Free Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair by Ellis Peters Page B
Authors: Ellis Peters
patience and thought, and they were to blame, but that does not absolve me. If the man's death has arisen out of my act, even though I could not act otherwise, I must know it, for I have to answer for it, as surely as the man who struck him down."
"I shall bring you all that I myself see and hear, Father Abbot," said Cadfael.
"I require also all that you think, brother. You saw part of what happened yesterday between the dead man and the living youth. Is it possible that it could have brought about such a death as this? Stabbed in the back? It is not commonly the method of anger."
"Not commonly." Cadfael had seen many deaths in the open anger of battle, but he knew also of rages that had bred and festered into killings by stealth, with the anger as hot as ever, but turned sour by brooding. "Yet it is possible. But there are other possibilities. It may indeed be what it first seems, a mere crude slaughter for the clothes on the body and the rings on the fingers, opportune plunder in the night, when no one chanced to be by. Such things happen, where men are gathered together and there is money changing hands."
"It is true," said Radulfus, coldly and sadly. "The ancient evil is always with us."
"Also, the man is of great importance in his trade and his region, and he may have enemies. Hate, envy, rivalry, are as powerful motives even as gain. And at a great fair such as ours, enemies may be brought together, far from the towns where their quarrels are known, and their acts might be guessed at too accurately. Murder is easier and more tempting, away from home."
"Again, true," said the abbot. "Is there more?"
"There is. There is the matter of the girl, niece and heiress to the dead man. She is of great beauty," said Cadfael plainly, asserting his right to recognise and celebrate even the beauty of women, though their enjoyment he had now voluntarily forsworn, "and there are three men in her uncle's service, shut on board a river barge with her. Only one of them old enough, it may be, to value his peace more. One, I think, God's simpleton, but not therefore blind, or delivered from the flesh. And one whole, able, every way a man, and enslaved to her. And this one it was who followed his master from the booth on the fairground, some say a quarter of an hour after him, some say a little more. God forbid I should therefore point a finger at an honest man. But we speak of possibilities. And will speak of them no more until, or unless, they become more than possibilities."
"That is my mind, also," said Abbot Radulfus, stirring and almost smiling. He looked at Cadfael steadily and long. "Go and bear witness, brother, as you are charged, and bring me word again. In your report I shall set my trust."
Emma had on, perforce, the same gown and bliaut she had worn the evening before, the gown dark blue like her eyes, but the tunic embroidered in many colours upon bleached linen. The only concession she could make to mourning was to bind up her great wealth of hair, and cover it from sight within a borrowed wimple. Nevertheless, she made a noble mourning figure. In the severe white frame her rounded, youthful face gained in concentrated force and meaning what it lost in pure grace. She had a look of single-minded gravity, like a lance in rest. Brother Cadfael could not yet see clearly where the lance was aimed.
When she caught sight of him approaching, she looked at him with pleased recognition, as the man behind the lance might have looked round at the fixed, partisan faces of his friends before the bout, but never shifted the focus of her soul's intent, which reached out where he could not follow.
"Brother Cadfael - have I your name right? It's Welsh, is it not? You were kind, yesterday. Lady Beringar says you will show me where to find the master-carpenter. I have to order my uncle's coffin, to take him back to Bristol." She was quite composed, yet still as simple and direct as a child. "Have we time, before we must go to the
"I shall bring you all that I myself see and hear, Father Abbot," said Cadfael.
"I require also all that you think, brother. You saw part of what happened yesterday between the dead man and the living youth. Is it possible that it could have brought about such a death as this? Stabbed in the back? It is not commonly the method of anger."
"Not commonly." Cadfael had seen many deaths in the open anger of battle, but he knew also of rages that had bred and festered into killings by stealth, with the anger as hot as ever, but turned sour by brooding. "Yet it is possible. But there are other possibilities. It may indeed be what it first seems, a mere crude slaughter for the clothes on the body and the rings on the fingers, opportune plunder in the night, when no one chanced to be by. Such things happen, where men are gathered together and there is money changing hands."
"It is true," said Radulfus, coldly and sadly. "The ancient evil is always with us."
"Also, the man is of great importance in his trade and his region, and he may have enemies. Hate, envy, rivalry, are as powerful motives even as gain. And at a great fair such as ours, enemies may be brought together, far from the towns where their quarrels are known, and their acts might be guessed at too accurately. Murder is easier and more tempting, away from home."
"Again, true," said the abbot. "Is there more?"
"There is. There is the matter of the girl, niece and heiress to the dead man. She is of great beauty," said Cadfael plainly, asserting his right to recognise and celebrate even the beauty of women, though their enjoyment he had now voluntarily forsworn, "and there are three men in her uncle's service, shut on board a river barge with her. Only one of them old enough, it may be, to value his peace more. One, I think, God's simpleton, but not therefore blind, or delivered from the flesh. And one whole, able, every way a man, and enslaved to her. And this one it was who followed his master from the booth on the fairground, some say a quarter of an hour after him, some say a little more. God forbid I should therefore point a finger at an honest man. But we speak of possibilities. And will speak of them no more until, or unless, they become more than possibilities."
"That is my mind, also," said Abbot Radulfus, stirring and almost smiling. He looked at Cadfael steadily and long. "Go and bear witness, brother, as you are charged, and bring me word again. In your report I shall set my trust."
Emma had on, perforce, the same gown and bliaut she had worn the evening before, the gown dark blue like her eyes, but the tunic embroidered in many colours upon bleached linen. The only concession she could make to mourning was to bind up her great wealth of hair, and cover it from sight within a borrowed wimple. Nevertheless, she made a noble mourning figure. In the severe white frame her rounded, youthful face gained in concentrated force and meaning what it lost in pure grace. She had a look of single-minded gravity, like a lance in rest. Brother Cadfael could not yet see clearly where the lance was aimed.
When she caught sight of him approaching, she looked at him with pleased recognition, as the man behind the lance might have looked round at the fixed, partisan faces of his friends before the bout, but never shifted the focus of her soul's intent, which reached out where he could not follow.
"Brother Cadfael - have I your name right? It's Welsh, is it not? You were kind, yesterday. Lady Beringar says you will show me where to find the master-carpenter. I have to order my uncle's coffin, to take him back to Bristol." She was quite composed, yet still as simple and direct as a child. "Have we time, before we must go to the