Sulien had shut his lips and clenched his teeth, as though he would never speak another word. It was too late to deploy any more lies.
*l think,' said Hugh, 'that when you heard what the abbey plough had turned up out of the soil, you were never in a moment's doubt as to her name. I think you knew very well that she was there. And you were quite certain that Ruald was not her murderer. Oh, that I believe! A certainty, Sulien, to which only God can be entitled, who knows all things with certainty. Only God, and you, who knew all too well who the murderer was.'
'Child,' said Radulfus into the prolonged silence, 'if you have an answer to this, speak out now. If there is guilt on your soul, do not continue obdurate, but confess it. If not, then tell us what your answer is, for you have brought this suspicion upon yourself. To your credit, it seems that you would not have another man, be he friend or stranger, bear the burden of a crime not his to answer. That I should expect of you. But the lies are not worthy, not even in such a cause. Better by far to deliver all others, and say outright: I am the man, look no further.'
Silence fell again, and this time lasted even longer, so that Cadfael felt the extreme stillness in the room as a weight upon his flesh and a constriction upon his breath. Outside the window dusk had gathered in thin, low, featureless cloud, a leaden grey sucking out all colour from the world. Sulien sat motionless, shoulders braced back to feel the solid wall supporting him, eyelids half lowered over the dimmed blue of his eyes. After a long tune he stirred, and raised both hands to press and flex with stiff fingers at his cheeks, as though the desperation in which he found himself had cramped even his flesh, and he must work the paralysing chill out of it before he could speak. But when he did speak, it was in a voice low, reasonable and persuasive, and he lifted his head and confronted Hugh with the composure of one who has reached a decision and a stance from which he will not easily be shifted.
'Very well! I have lied, and lied again, and I love lies no more than you do, my lord. But if I make a bargain with you, I swear to you I shall keep it faithfully. I have not confessed to anything, yet. But I will give you my confession to murder, upon conditions!'
'Conditions?' said Hugh, with black brows obliquely raised in wry amusement.
'They need not limit in any degree what can be done to me,' said Sulien, as gently as if he argued a sensible case to which all sane men must consent once they heard it. 'All I want is that my mother and my family shall suffer no dishonour and no disgrace by me. Why should not a bargain be struck even over matters of life and death, if it can spare all those who are not to blame, and destroy only the guilty?'
'You are offering me a confession,' said Hugh, 'in exchange for blanketing this whole matter in silence?'
The abbot had risen to his feet, a hand raised in indignant protest. 'There can be no bargaining over murder. You must withdraw, my son, you are adding insult to your offence.'
'No,' said Hugh, 'let him speak. Every man deserves a hearing. Go on, Sulien, what is it you are offering and asking?'
'Something which could very simply be done. I have been summoned here, where I chose to abandon my calling,' Sulien began in the same measured and persuasive voice. 'Would it be so strange if I should change yet again, and return to my vocation here as a penitent? Father Abbot here, I'm sure, could win me if he tried.' Radulfus was frowning at this moment in controlled disapproval, not of the misuse being made of his influence and office, but of the note of despairing levity which had crept into the young man's voice. 'My mother is in her death illness,' said Sulien,