Brother Cadfael 20: Brother Cadfael's Penance

here can help me. Your master does not recognize it as belonging to any man he knows."
    "No," said the lame man simply. "But I do."
    Chapter Seven
    Cadfael had opened his mouth to question eagerly, seizing upon this unforeseen chance, but he recalled that the man was at work, and already dependent on his master's goodwill, and lucky to have found such a patron. "You'll be missed," he said quickly. "I can't bring you into reproof. When are you free?"
    "At sext we rest and eat our bit of dinner. Long enough," said the lame man, and briefly smiled. "I feared you might be for leaving before I could tell you what I know."
    "I would not stir," said Cadfael fervently. "Where? Here? You name the place, I'll be waiting."
    "The last carrel of the walk, next to where we're building." With the stacked ashlar and all the timber at their backs, Cadfael reflected, and a clear view of anyone who should appear in the cloister. This one, whatever the reason, natural suspicion or well-grounded caution, kept a close watch on his back, and a lock on his tongue.
    "No word to any other?" said Cadfael, holding the level grey eyes that met him fairly.
    "In these parts too much has happened to make a man loose-mouthed. A word in the wrong ear may be a knife in the wrong back. No offence to your habit, brother. Praise God, there are still good men." And he turned, and went limping back to the outer world and his labours on God's work.
    In the comparative warmth of noon they sat together in the end carrel of the north walk of the cloister, where they could see down the full length of the walk across the garth. The grass was dry and bleached after an almost rainless autumn, but the sky was overcast and heavy with the foreshowing of change.
    "My name," said the lame man, "is Forthred. I come from Todenham, which is an outlier of this manor of Deerhurst. I took service for the empress under Brien de Soulis, and I was in Faringdon with his force, the few weeks the castle stood for the cause. It's there I've seen the seal you have there in the drawings. Twice I've seen it set to documents he witnessed. No mistaking it. The third time I saw it was on the agreement they drew up and sealed when they handed over Faringdon to the king."
    "It was done so solemnly?" said Cadfael, surprised. "I thought they simply let in the besiegers by night."
    "So they did, but they had their agreement ready to show to us, the men of the garrison, proving that all six captains with followings among us had accepted the change, and committed us with them. I doubt they would have carried the day but for that. A nay word from one or two of the best, and their men would have fought, and King Stephen would have paid a stiff price for Faringdon. No, it was planned and connived at beforehand."
    "Six captains with their own companies," said Cadfael, brooding, "and all under de Soulis's command?"
    "So it was. And some thirty or so new knights or squires without personal following, only their own arms."
    "Of those we know. Most refused to turn their coats, and are prisoners now among the king's men. But all these six who had companies of their own men were agreed, and set their seals to the surrender?"
    "Every one. It would not have been done so easily else. Fealty among the common soldiery is to their own leaders. They go where their captains go. One seal missing from that vellum, and there would have been trouble. One in particular, and there would have been a battle. One who carried the most weight with us, and was the best liked and trusted."
    There was something in his voice as he spoke of this man, elect and valued, that conveyed much more than had been said. Cadfael touched the rolled leaf of vellum.
    "This one?"
    "The same," said Forthred, and for a moment volunteered nothing more, but sat mute, gazing along the grass of the garth with eyes that looked inward rather than outward.
    "And he, like the rest, set his seal to the surrender?"
    "His seal, this seal, was certainly there to be seen. With my own eyes I saw it. I would not have believed it else."
    "And his name?"
    "His name is Geoffrey FitzClare, and the Clare whose son he is is Richard de Clare, who was earl of Hertford, and the present earl, Gilbert, is his half-brother. A by-blow of the house of Clare. Sometimes these sons come by astray are better than the true coin. Though Gilbert, for all I know, is a good man, too. At least he and his half-brother have always respected and liked each other, seemingly, although