Free Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood by Ellis Peters Page B

very much like, both taking after my man. And from the time they were first on their feet they've been as close as any brothers, and closer than most, and both as wild as fox-cubs. So that's my son Edwin and my grandson Edwy. Not yet turned fifteen, either of them. It's for Edwin I'm praying your help, Cadfael. For I swear to you he never did nor even could do such wicked harm, but the sheriff's man has it fixed fast in his head that it was Edwin who put poison in the dish. If you knew him, Cadfael, if only you knew him, you'd know it's madness."
    And so it sounded when her fond, maternal voice spoke of it, yet sons no older than fourteen had been known to remove their fathers to clear their own paths, as Cadfael knew well enough. And this was not Edwin's own father, and little love lost between them.
    "Tell me," he said, "about this second marriage, and the bargain you struck."
    "Why, Eward died when Edwin was nine years old, and Martin took over his shop, and runs it as Eward did before him, and as Eward taught him. We all lived together until Gervase came ordering some panelling for his house, and took a strong fancy to me. And he was a fine figure of a man, too, and in good health, and very attentive ... He promised if I would have him he'd make Edwin his heir, and leave Mallilie to him. And Martin and Sibil had three more children to provide for by then, so with all those mouths to feed he needed what the business can bring in, and I thought to see Edwin set up for life."
    "But it was not a success," said Cadfael, "understandably. A man who had never had children, and getting on in years, and a lusty lad busy growing up - they were bound to cross swords."
    "It was ten of one and half a score of the other," she owned, sighing. "Edwin had been indulged, I fear, he was used to his freedom and to having his own way, and he was for ever running off with Edwy, as he'd always been used to do. And Gervase held it against him that he ran with simple folk and craftsmen - he thought that low company, beneath a young man with a manor to inherit, and that was bound to anger Edwin, who loves his kin. Not to claim that he had not some less respectable friends, too! They rubbed each other the wrong way daily. When Gervase beat him, Edwin ran away to Martin's shop and stayed for days. And when Gervase locked him up, he'd either make his way out all the same, or else take his revenge in other ways. In the end Gervase said as the brat's tastes obviously ran to mere trade, and running loose with all the scallywags of the town, he might as well go and apprentice himself in good earnest, it was all he was fit for. And Edwin, though he knew better, pretended to take that, word for word, as well meant, and went and did that very thing, which made Gervase more furious than ever. That was when he vowed he'd hand over his manor by charter to the abbey, and live here retired. 'He cares nothing for the lands I meant to leave him,' he said, 'why should I go on nursing them for such an ingrate?' And he did it, there and then, while he was hot, he had this agreement drawn up, and made ready to move here before Christmas."
    "And what did the boy say to that? For I suppose he never realised what was intended?"
    "He did not! He came with a rush, penitent but indignant, too. He swore he does love Mallilie, he never meant to scorn it, and he would take good care of it if it came to him. But my husband would not give way, though we all pleaded with him. And Edwin was bitter, too, for he had been promised, and a promise should be kept. But it was done, and nobody could make my lord undo it. Not being his own son, Edwin's consent was never asked nor needed - it would never have been given! He went flying back to Martin and Sibil with his raging grievance, and I haven't seen him again until this day, and I wish he'd never come near us today. But he did, and now see how the sheriff's man is hunting him as a villain who would kill his own mother's husband! Such a