Brother Cadfael 17: The Potter's Field

a doubt of it, but so changed it took him a while to trust his own eyes. And there was more than he ever told us to that early morning flight of his. No wonder he crept off and left her sleeping. He took every penny of her earnings with him as well as his own. I said he had something on his conscience, and something to do with the woman. So he had, he robbed her of everything she had of value, and a hard time she must have had of it through the autumn and into the winter, last year.'

    

'It sounds,' said Cadfael, attentive but unsurprised, 'as if their meeting today might well be another stormy one.'

    

'Well, he was so glad of her coming, he was all thanks and promises of redress, and fawning flattery. And she refuses to press the theft against him. I do believe he had thoughts of trying to woo her back to the wandering life, but she's having none of that. Not she! She calls up her groom, and he hoists her to the pillion, and away they go -'

    

'And Britric?' Cadfael reached to give a thoughtful stir to the pot he had gently simmering on the grid that covered one side of his brazier. The sharp, warm, steamy smell of horehound stung their nostrils. There were already a few coughs and colds among the old, frail brothers in Edmund's infirmary.

    

'He's loosed and away, very subdued, though how long that will last there's no knowing. No reason to hold him longer. We'll keep a weather eye on his dealings, but if he's beginning to prosper honestly - well, almost honestly! - he may have got enough wisdom this time to stay within the law. Even the abbey may get its tolls if he comes to next year's fair. But here are we, Cadfael, left with a history repeating itself very neatly and plausibly, to let loose not one possible murderer, but the second one also. Is that believable?'

    

'Such things have been known,' said Cadfael cautiously, 'but not often.'

    

'Do you believe it?'

    

'I believe it has happened. But that it has happened by chance, that has me in two minds. No,' Cadfael amended emphatically, 'more than two minds.'

    

'That one supposedly dead woman should come back to life, well and good. But the second also? And are we now to expect a third, if we can find a third to die or rise again? And yet we still have this one poor, offended soul waiting for justice, if not by another's death, at least by the grace and remembrance of a name. She is dead, and requires an accounting.'

    

Cadfael had listened with respect and affection to a speech which might as well have come from Abbot Radulfus, but delivered with a youthful and secular passion. Hugh did not often commit himself to indignation, at least not aloud.

    

'Hugh, did she tell you how and where she heard of Britric's being in your prison?'

    

'No more than vaguely. Rumoured about in the market, she said. I never thought,' said Hugh, vexed, 'to question more nearly.'

    

'And it's barely three days since you let it be known what he was suspected of, and put out her name. News travels fast, but how far it should have reached in the time may be much to the point. I take it Gunnild has accounted for herself? For the change in fortunes? You have not told me, yet, where she lives and serves now.'

    

'Why, it seems that after a fashion Britric did her a favour when he left her penniless, there in Ruald's croft. It was August then, the end of the fair, no very easy way to pick up a profit, and she barely managed to keep herself through the autumn months, fed but with nothing saved, and you'll remember - God knows you should! - that the winter came early and hard. She did what the wandering players do, started early looking for a manor where there might be a place for a good minstrel through the worst of the winter. Common practice, but you gamble, and may win or do poorly!'

    

'Yes,' agreed Cadfael, rather to himself than to his friend, 'so I told him.'

    

'She did well for herself. She happened into the manor of Withington in the December snows. Giles Otmere holds it, a crown tenant these days, since FitzAlan's lands were seized, and he has a young family who welcome a minstrel over the Christmas feast, so they took her in. But better still, the young daughter is eighteen just turned, and took a liking to her, and according to Gunnild she has a neat hand with dressing hair, and is good with her needle, and the girl has taken her on as tirewoman. You should see the delicate pace of her now, and the