Brother Cadfael 19: The Holy Thief

entertain it because I see no other."
    "And you will pursue it?" said the abbot.
    "I will go again, and find this young man Aldhelm, if you approve."
    "We must," said Radulfus. "One of the brothers, you say, called back the young man, and came out afterwards with him. Could they name him?"
    "No, nor would they be able to know him again. It was dark, he was cowled against the rain. And most likely, wholly innocent. But I'll go the last step of the way, and ask the last man."
    "We must do what can be done," said Radulfus heavily, "to recover what has been lost. If we fail, we fail. But try we must." And to the two returned travellers: "Precisely where did this ambush take place?"
    "Close by a village called Ullesthorpe, a few miles from Leicester," said Master James of Betton.
    The two of them were drooping by then, in reaction from their long and laborious walk home, and sleepy from the wine mulled for them with their supper. Radulfus knew when to close the conference.
    "Go to your well-earned rest now, and leave all to God and the saints, who have not turned away their faces from us."
    If Hugh and Prior Robert had not been well mounted, and the elderly but resolute former steward of Ramsey forced to go afoot, they could not have arrived at the cathedral priory of Worcester within a day of each other. Nicol, since the disastrous encounter near Ullesthorpe, had had five days to make his way lamely across country to reach Sub-Prior Herluin and make his report. He was a stouthearted, even an obstinate man, not to be deterred by a few bruises, and not to surrender his charge without a struggle. If pursuit was possible, Nicol intended to demand it of whatever authority held the writ in these parts.
    Hugh and Prior Robert had arrived at the priory late in the evening, paid their respects to the prior, attended Vespers to do reverence to the saints of the foundation, Saints Oswald and Wulstan, and taken Herluin and his attendants into their confidence about the loss, or at the very least the misplacement, of Saint Winifred's reliquary; with a sharp eye, at least on Hugh's part, for the way the news was received. But he could find no fault with Herluin's reaction, which displayed natural dismay and concern, but not to excess. Too much exclaiming and protesting would have aroused a degree of doubt as to his sincerity, but Herluin clearly felt that here was nothing worse than some confused stupidity among too many helpers in too much panic and haste, and what was lost would be found as soon as everyone calmed down and halted the hunt for a while to take thought. It was impressive, too, that he instantly stated his intention of returning at once to Shrewsbury, to help to clarify the confusion, though he seemed to be relying on his natural authority and leadership to produce order out of chaos, rather than having anything practical in mind. He himself had nothing to contribute. He had taken no part in the hurried labours within the church, but had held himself aloof with dignity in the abbot's lodging, which was still high and dry. No, he knew nothing of who had salvaged Saint Winifred. His last sight of her reliquary had been at morning Mass.
    Tutilo, awed and mute, shook his head, still in its aureole of unshorn curls, and opened his amber eyes wide at hearing the disturbing news. Given leave to speak, he said he had gone into the church to help, and had simply obeyed such orders as were given to him, and he knew nothing of where the saint's coffin might be at this moment.
    "This must not go by default," pronounced Herluin at his most majestic. "Tomorrow we will ride back with you to Shrewsbury. She cannot be far. She must be found."
    "After Mass tomorrow," said Prior Robert, firmly reasserting his own leadership as representing Shrewsbury, "we will set out."
    And so they would have done, but for the coming of Nicol.
    Their horses were saddled and waiting, their farewells to the prior and brothers already made, and Hugh just reaching for his bridle, when Nicol came trudging sturdily in at the gatehouse, soiled and bruised and hoisting himself along on a staff he had cut for himself in the forest. Herluin saw him, and uttered a wordless cry, rather of vexation than surprise or alarm, for by this time the steward should have been home in Ramsey, all his booty safely delivered. His unexpected appearance here, whatever its cause, boded no good.
    "Nicol!" pronounced Herluin, suppressing his first exasperation, at this or any