Brother Cadfael 21: A Rare Benedictine

naturally. He brooded, glaring, and wasting no time on question or explanation, said in a level whisper: "I will stay." And with aggressive composure stayed, settling himself on the bench beside his father's bed, his two long, muscular hands gripped tightly between his knees.
    The porter met Cadfael's eye, hoisted his shoulders, and went quietly away. Cadfael sat down on the other side of the bed, and contemplated the pair, father and son. Both faces looked equally aloof and critical, even hostile, yet there they were, close and quiet together.
    The young man asked but two questions, each after a long silence. The first, uttered almost grudgingly, was: "Will it be well with him?"
    Cadfael, watching the easing flow of breath and the faint flush of colour, said simply: "Yes. Only give him time."
    The second was: "He has not spoken yet?"
    "Not yet," said Cadfael.
    Now which of those, he wondered, was the more vital question? There was one man, somewhere, who must at this moment be very anxious indeed about what William Rede might have to say, when he did speak.
    The young man his name was Edward, Cadfael recalled, after the Confessor Eddi Rede sat all night long almost motionless, brooding over his father's bed. Most of that time, and certainly every time he had been aware of being watched in his turn, he had been scowling.
    Well before Prime the sergeant was back again to his watch, and Jacob was again hovering unhappily about the doorway, peering in anxiously whenever it was opened, but not quite venturing to come in until he was invited. The sergeant eyed Eddi very hard and steadily, but said no word to disturb the injured man's increasingly restful sleep. It was past seven when at last Master William stirred, opened vague eyes, made a few small sounds which were not yet words, and tried feebly to put up a hand to his painful head, startled by the sudden twinge when he moved. The sergeant stooped close, but Cadfael laid a restraining hand on his arm.
    "Give him time! A knock on the head like that will have addled his wits. We'll need to tell him things before he tells us any." And to the wondering patient he said tranquilly: "You know me, Cadfael, Edmund will be here to relieve me as soon as Prime is over. You're in his care, in the infirmary, and past the worst. Fret for nothing, lie still and let others do that. You've had a mighty dunt on the crown, and a dowsing in the river, but both are past, and thanks be, you're safe enough now."
    The wandering hand reached its goal this time. Master William groaned and stared indignant surprise, and his eyes cleared and sharpened, though his voice was weak as he complained, with quickening memory: "He came behind me someone out of an open yard door... That's the last I know..." Sudden realisation shook him; he gave a stricken howl, and tried to rise from his pillow, but gave up at the pang it cost him. The rents - the abbey rents!"
    "Your life's better worth than the abbey rents," said Cadfael heartily, "and even they may be regained."
    "The man who felled you," said the sergeant, leaning close, "cut your satchel loose with a knife, and made off with it. But if you can help us we'll lay him by the heels yet. Where was this that he struck you down?"
    "Not a hundred paces from my own house," lamented William bitterly. "I went there when I had finished, to check my rolls and make all fast, and..." He shut his mouth grimly on the overriding reason. Hazily he had been aware all this time of the silent and sullen young man sitting beside him, now he fixed his eyes on him until his vision cleared. The mutual glare was spirited, and came of long practice. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
    "Waiting to have better news of you to take to my mother," said Eddi shortly. He looked up defiantly into the sergeant's face. "He came home to read me all my sins over, and warn me that the fine that's due from me in two days more is my burden now, not his, and if I can't make shift for it on my own I may go to gaol, and pay in another coin. Or it may be," he added with grudging fairness, "that he came rather to flay me and then pay my dues, as he's done more than once. But I was in no mind to listen, and he was in no mind to be flouted, so I flung out and went down to the butts. And won the good half of what I owe, for what that's worth,"
    "So this was a bitter quarrel you had between you," said the sergeant, narrowing suspicious eyes. "And not long after it you, master, went out to bring