Brother Cadfael 17: The Potter's Field

she's reconciled. No wonder if she took up her roots - they were shallow enough here, once Ruald was gone - and went away home to Wales without a word to a soul. With another man, or alone, what does it matter?'

    

'Love,' declared Hugh, at once touched and amused, 'you never cease to be a wonder to me. How did you ever come to know so much about the case? And feel so hotly about it?'

    

'I've seen them together, that was enough. From across a fairground stall it was plain to be seen how fond, and wild she was. And you men,' said Aline, with resigned tolerance, 'naturally see the man's rights first, when he sets his heart on doing what he wants, whether it's entering the cloister or going off to war, but I'm a woman, and I see how deeply wronged the wife was. Had she no rights in the matter? And did you ever stop to think - he could have his freedom to go and become a monk, but his going didn't confer freedom on her. She could not take another husband; the one she had, monk or no, was still alive. Was that fair? Almost,' avowed Aline roundly, 'I hope she did go with a lover, rather than have to live and endure alone.'

    

Hugh reached a long arm to draw his wife to him, with something between a laugh and a sigh. 'Lady, there is much in what you say, and this world is full of injustice.'

    

'Still I suppose it was not Ruald's fault,' said Aline, relenting. 'I daresay he would have released her if he could. It's done, and I hope, wherever she is, she has some comfort in her life. And I suppose if a man really is overtaken by an act of God there's nothing he can do but obey. It may even have cost him almost as much. What kind of brother has he made, Cadfael? Was it really something that could not be denied?'

    

Truly,' said Cadfael, 'it seems that it was. The man is wholly devoted. I verily believe he had no choice.' He paused reflectively, finding it hard to discover the appropriate words for a degree of self-surrender which was impossible to him. 'He has now that entire security that cannot be moved by well or ill, since to his present state everything is well. If martyrdom was demanded of him now, he would accept it with the same serenity as bliss. Indeed it would be bliss, he knows nothing less. I doubt if he gives a thought to any part of that life he led for forty years, or the wife he knew and abandoned. No, Ruald had no choice.'

    

Aline was regarding him steadily with her wide iris eyes, that were so shrewd in their innocence. 'Was it like that for you,' she asked, 'when your time came?''

    

'No, I had a choice. I made a choice. It was even a hard choice, but I made it, and I hold to it. I am no such elect saint as Ruald.'

    

'Is that a saint?' and Aline. 'It seems to me all too easy.'

    

The charter of the exchange of lands between Haughmond and Shrewsbury was drawn up, sealed and witnessed in the first week of September. Some days later Brother Cadfael and Brother Richard the sub-prior went to view the new acquisition, and consider its future use to the best advantage of the abbey. The morning was misty when they set out, but by the time they had reached the ferry just upstream from the field the sun was already coming through the haze, and their sandalled feet left dark tracks through the dewy grass above the shore.

    

Across the river the further bank rose, sandy and steep, undercut here and there by the currents, and levelling off into a narrow plain of grass, with a rising ridge of bushes and trees beyond. When they stepped from the boat they had some minutes of walking along this belt of pasture, and then they stood at the corner of the Potter's Field, and had the whole expanse obliquely before them.

    

It was a very fair place. From the sandy escarpment of the river bank the slope of grass rose gradually towards a natural headland of bush and thorn and a filigree screen of birch trees against the sky. Backed into this crest in the far corner the shell of the empty cottage squatted, its garden unfenced and running wild into the embracing wildness of the unreaped grass. The crop Haughmond had not found worth his while to garner was bleaching into early autumn pallor, having ripened and seeded weeks earlier, and among the whitened standing stems all manner of meadow flowers still showed, harebell and archangel, poppy and daisy and centaury, with the fresh green shoots of new grass just breaking through the roots of the fading yield. Under the headland