The Devil's Novice bc-8
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‘And as to my sin against you, father, and against this house, that also I confess and repent, for so to dispose of a suspect murderer and so to enforce a young man without a true vocation, was vile towards him and towards this house. Take that also into account, for I would be free of all my debts.
‘And as to my sin against Peter Clemence, my guest and my kinsman, in denying him Christian burial to protect the good name of my own house, I am glad now that the hand of God made use of my own abused son to uncover and undo the evil I have done. Whatever penance you decree for me in that matter, I shall add to it an endowment to provide Masses for his soul as long as my own life continues…’ As proud and rigid in confessing faults as in correcting them in his son, he unwound the tale to the end, and to the end Radulfus listened patiently and gravely, decreed measured terms by way of amends, and gave absolution.
Leoric arose stiffly from his knees, and went out in unaccustomed humility and dread, to look for the one son he had left.
The rapping at the closed and barred door of Cadfael’s workshop came when the wine, one of Cadfael’s three-year-old brews, had begun to warm Meriet into a hesitant reconciliation with life, blurring the sharp memories of betrayal. Cadfael opened the door, and into the mellow ring of light from the brazier stepped Isouda in her grown-up wedding finery, crimson and rose and ivory, a silver fillet round her hair, her face solemn and important. There was a taller shape behind her in the doorway, shadowy against the winter dusk.
‘I thought we might find you here,’ she said, and the light gilded her faint, secure smile. ‘I am a herald. You have been sought everywhere. Your father begs you to admit him to speech with you.’ Meriet had stiffened where he sat, knowing who stood behind her. ‘That is not the way I was ever summoned to my father’s presence,’ he said, with a fading spurt of malice and pain. ‘In his house things were not conducted so.’ ‘Very well then,’ said Isouda, undisturbed. ‘Your father orders you to admit him here, or I do in his behalf, and you had better be sharp and respectful about it.’ And she stood aside, eyes imperiously beckoning Brother Cadfael and Brother Mark, as Leoric came into the hut, his tall head brushing the dangling bunches of dried herbs swinging from the beams.
Meriet rose from the bench and made a slow, hostile but punctilious reverence, his back stiff as pride itself, his eyes burning. But his voice was quiet and secure as he said: ‘Be pleased to come in. Will you sit, sir?’ Cadfael and Mark drew away one on either side, and followed Isouda into the chill of the dusk. Behind them they heard Leoric say, very quietly and humbly: ‘You will not now refuse me the kiss?’ There was a brief and perilous silence; then Meriet said hoarsely: ‘Father…’ and Cadfael closed the door.
In the high and broken heathland to the south-west of the town of Stafford, about this same hour, Nigel Aspley rode headlong into a deep copse, over thick, tussocky turf, and all but rode over his friend, neighbour and fellow-conspirator, Janyn Linde, cursing and sweating over a horse that went deadly lame upon a hind foot after treading askew and falling in the rough ground. Nigel cried recognition with relief, for he had small appetite for venturesome enterprises alone, and lighted down to look what the damage might be. But Isouda’s horse limped to the point of foundering, and manifestly could go no further.
‘You?’ cried Janyn. ‘You broke through, then? God curse this damned brute, he’s thrown me and crippled himself.’ He clutched at his friend’s arm. ‘What have you done with my sister? Left her to answer for all? She’ll run mad!’ ‘She’s well enough and safe enough, we’ll send for her as soon as we may… You to cry out on me!’ flared Nigel, turning on him hotly. ‘You made your escape in good time, and left the pair of us in mire to the brows. Who sank us in this bog in the first place? Did II bid you kill the man? All I asked was that you send a rider ahead to give warning, have them put everything out of sight quickly before he came. They could have done it! How could I send? The man was lodged there in our house, I had no one to send who would not be missed… But you-you had to shoot him down…’ ‘I had the hardihood to make all certain, where you would have flinched,’ spat Janyn, curling a contemptuous lip. ‘A rider would have got there too late. I made sure the bishop’s lackey should never get there.’ ‘And left him lying! Lying in the open ride!’ ‘For you to be fool enough to run there as soon as I told you!’ Janyn hissed derisive scorn at such weakness of will and nerve. ‘If you’d let him lie, who was ever to know who struck him down? But you must take fright, and rush to try and hide him, who was far better not hidden. And fetch your poor idiot brother down on you, and your father after him! That ever I broached such high business to such a broken reed!’ ‘Or I ever listened to such a plausible tempter!’ fretted Nigel wretchedly. ‘Now here we are helpless. This creature cannot go-you see it! And the town above a mile distant, and night coming…’ ‘And I had a head start,’ raged Janyn, stamping the thick, blanched grass, ‘and fortune ahead of me, and the beast had to founder! And you’ll be off to pick up the prizes due to both of us-you who crumple at the first threat! God’s curse on the day!’ ‘Hush your noise!’ Nigel turned his back despairingly, stroking the lame horse’s sweating flank. ‘I wish to God I’d never in life set eyes on you, to come to this pass, but I’ll not leave you. If you must be dragged back-you think they’ll be far behind us now?-we’ll go back together. But let’s at least try to reach Stafford. Let’s leave this one tethered to be found, and ride and run by turns with the other…’ His back was still turned when the dagger slid in between his ribs from behind, and he sagged and folded, marvelling, not yet feeling any pain, but only the withdrawal of his life and force, that laid him almost softly in the grass. Blood streamed out from his wound and warmed his side, flowing round to fire the ground beneath him. He tried to raise himself, and could not stir a hand.
Janyn stood a moment looking down at him dispassionately. He doubted if the wound itself was fatal, but judged it would take less than half an hour for his sometime friend to bleed to death, which would do as well. He spurned the motionless body with a careless foot, wiped his dagger on the grass, and turned to mount the horse Nigel had ridden. Without another glance behind he dug in his heels and set off at a rapid canter towards Stafford, between the darkening trees.
Hugh’s officers, coming at speed some ten minutes later, found half-dead man and lamed horse and divided their forces, two men riding on to try to overtake Janyn, while the remaining pair salvaged both man and beast, bestowed Isouda’s horse at the nearest holding, and carried Nigel back to Shrewsbury, pallid, swathed and senseless, but alive.
‘…he promised us advancement, castles and commands-William of Roumare. It was when Janyn went north with me at midsummer to view my manor-it was Janyn persuaded me.’ Nigel brought out the sorry, broken fragments of his confession late in the dusk of the following day, in his wits again and half-wishing he were not. So many eyes round his bed, his father erect and ravaged of face at the foot, staring upon his heir with grieved eyes, Roswitha kneeling at his right side, tearless now, but bloated with past weeping, Brother Cadfael and Brother Edmund the infirmarer watchful from the shadows in case their patient tried his strength too far too soon. And on his left Meriet, back in cotte and hose, stripped of the black habit which had never fitted or suited him, and looking strangely taller, leaner and older than when he had first put it on. His eyes, aloof and stern as his father’s, were the first Nigel’s waking, wandering stare had encountered. There was no knowing what went on in the mind behind them.
‘We have been his men from that time on… We knew the time set for the strike at Lincoln. We meant to ride north after our marriage, Janyn with us-but Roswitha did not know! And now we have lost. Word came through too soon…’ ‘Come to the death-day,’ said Hugh, standing at Leone’s shoulder.
‘Yes-Clemence. At supper he let out what his business was. And they were there in Chester, all their constables and castellans… in the act! When I took Roswitha home I told Janyn, and begged him to send a rider ahead at on
ce, through the night, to warn them. He swore he would… I went there next morning early, but he was not there, he never came until past noon, and when I asked if all was well, he said very well! For Peter Clemence was dead in the forest, and the gathering in Chester safe enough. He laughed at me for being in dread. Let him lie, he said, who’ll be the wiser, there are footpads everywhere… But I was afraid! I went to find him, to hide him away until night …”
‘And Meriet happened upon you in the act,’ said Hugh, quietly prompting.
‘I had cut away the shaft, the better to move him. There was blood on my hands-what else could he think? I swore it was not my work, but he did not believe me. He told me, go quickly, wash off the blood, go back to Roswitha, stay the day out, I will do what must be done. For our father’s sake, he said… he sets such store on you, he said, it would break his heart… And I did as he said! A jealous killing, he must have-thought… he never knew what I had-what we had-to cover up. I went from him and left him to be taken in guilt that was none of his…’ Tears sprang in Nigel’s eyes. He groped out blindly for any hand that would comfort him with a touch, and it was Meriet who suddenly dropped to his knees and took it. His face remained obstinately stern and ever more resembling his father’s, but still he accepted the fumbling hand and held it firmly.
‘Only late at night, when I went home, then I heard… How could I speak? It would have betrayed all… all… When Meriet was loosed out to us again, when he had given his pledge to take the cowl, then I did go to him,’ pleaded Nigel feebly. ‘I did offer… He would not let me meddle. He said he was resolved and willing, and I must let things be…’ ‘It is true,’ said Meriet. ‘I did so persuade him. Why make bad worse?’ ‘But he did not know of treason… I repent me,’ said Nigel, wringing at the hand he held in his, and subsiding into his welcome weakness, refuge from present harassment. ‘I do repent of what I have done to my father’s house…and most of all to Meriet… If I live, I will make amends…’ ‘He’ll live,’ said Cadfael, glad to escape from that dolorous bedside into the frosty air of the great court, and draw deep breaths to breathe forth again in silver mist. ‘Yes, and make good his present losses by mustering for King Stephen, if he can bear arms by the time his Grace moves north. It cannot be till after the feast, there’s an army to raise. And though I’m sure young Janyn meant murder, for it seems to come easily to him as smiling, his dagger went somewhat astray, and has done no mortal harm. Once we’ve fed and rested him, and made good the blood he’s lost, Nigel will be his own man again, and do his devoir for whoever can best vantage him. Unless you see fit to commit him for this treason?’ ‘In this mad age,’ said Hugh ruefully, ‘what is treason? With two monarchs in the field, and a dozen petty kings like Chester riding the tide, and even such as Bishop Henry hovering between two or three loyalties? No, let him lie, he’s small chaff, only a half-hearted traitor, and no murderer at all-that I believe, he would not have the stomach.’ Behind them Roswitha emerged from the infirmary, huddling her cloak about her against the cold, and crossed with a hasty step towards the guesthall. Even after abasement, abandonment and grief she had the resilience to look beautiful, though these two men, at least, she could now pass by hurriedly and with averted eyes.
‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ said Brother Cadfael somewhat morosely, looking after her. ‘Ah, well, they deserve each other. Let them end or mend together.’ Leoric Aspley requested audience of the abbot after Vespers of that day.
‘Father, there are yet two matters I would raise with you. There is this young brother of your fraternity at Saint Giles, who has been brother indeed to my son Meriet, beyond his brother in blood. My son tells me it is the heart’s wish of Brother Mark to be a priest. Surely he is worthy. Father, I offer whatever moneys may be needed to provide him the years of study that will bring him to his goal. If you will guide, I will pay all, and be his debtor still.’ ‘I have myself noted Brother Mark’s inclination,’ said the abbot, ‘and approved it. He has the heart of the matter in him. I will see him advanced, and take your offer willingly.’ ‘And the second thing,’ said Leoric, ‘concerns my sons, for I have learned by good and by ill that I have two, as a certain brother of this house has twice found occasion to remind me, and with good reason. My son Nigel is wed to a daughter of a manor now lacking another heir, and will therefore inherit through his wife, if he makes good his reparation for faults confessed. Therefore I intend to settle my manor of Aspley to my younger son Meriet. I mean to make my intent known in a charter, and beg you to be one of my witnesses.’ ‘With my goodwill,’ said Radulfus, gravely smiling, ‘and part with him gladly, to meet him in another fashion, outside this pale which never was meant to contain him.’ Brother Cadfael betook himself to his workshop that night before Compline, to make his usual nightly check that all was in order there, the brazier fire either out or so low that it presented no threat, all the vessels not in use tidied away, his current wines contentedly bubbling, the lids on all his jars and the stoppers in all his flasks and bottles. He was tired but tranquil, the world about him hardly more chaotic than it had been two days ago, and in the meantime the innocent delivered, not without great cost. For the boy had worshipped the easy, warm, kind brother so much more pleasing to the eye and so much more gifted in graces and physical accomplishments than ever he could be, so much more loved, so much more vulnerable and frail, if only the soul showed through. Worship was over now, but compassion and loyalty, even pity, can be just as enchaining. Meriet had been the last to leave Nigel’s sick-room. Strange to think that it must have cost Leoric a great pang of jealousy to leave him there so long, fettered to his brother and letting his father go. They had still some fearful lunges of adjustment to make between those three before all would be resolved. Cadfael sat down with a sigh in his dark hut, only a glowing spark in the brazier to keep him company. A quarter of an hour yet before Compline. Hugh was away home at last, shutting out for tonight the task of levying men for the king’s service. Christmas would come and go, and Stephen would move almost on its heels-that mild, admirable, lethargic soul of generous inclinations, stung into violent action by a blatantly treasonous act. He could move fast when he chose, his trouble was that his animosities died young. He could not really hate. And somewhere in the north, far towards his goal now, rode Janyn Linde, no doubt still smiling, whistling, light of heart, with his two unavoidable dead men behind him, and his sister, who had been nearer to him than any other human creature, nonetheless shrugged off like a split glove. Hugh would have Janyn Linde in his levelled eye, when he came with Stephen to Lincoln. A light young man with heavy enormities to answer for, and all to be paid, here or hereafter. Better here.
As for the villein Harald, there was a farrier on the town side of the western bridge willing to take him on, and as soon as the flighty public mind had forgotten him he would be quietly let out to take up honest work there. A year and a day in a charter borough, and he would be a free man.
Unwittingly Cadfael had closed his eyes for a few drowsing moments, leaning well back against his timber wall, with legs stretched out before him and ankles comfortably crossed. Only the momentary chill draught penetrated his half-sleep, and caused him to open his eyes. And they were there before him, standing hand in hand, very gravely smiling, twin images of indulgence to his age and cares, the boy become a man and the girl become what she had always been in the bud, a formidable woman. There was only the glow-worm spark of the dying brazier to light them, but they shone most satisfactorily.
Isouda loosed her playfellow’s hand and came forward to stoop and kiss Cadfael’s furrowed russet cheek.
‘Tomorrow early we are going home. There may be no chance then to say farewell properly. But we shall not be far away. Roswitha is staying with Nigel, and will take him home with her when he is well.’ The secret light played on the planes of her face, rounded and soft and strong, and found frets of scarlet in her mane of hair. Roswitha had never been as beautiful as this, the burning heart was wanting.
He had been out in the frost with her, and the cold had stung high colour into his cheeks. In the warmer air within the hut his dark, thick thatch of hair, still blessedly untonsured, dangled thawing over his brow, and he looked somewhat as Cadfael had first seen him, lighting down in the rain to hold his father’s stirrup, stubborn and dutiful, when those two, so perilously alike, had been at odds over a mortal issue. But the face beneath the damp locks was mature and calm now, even resigned, acknowledging the burden of a weaker brother in need of loyalty. Not for his disastrous acts, but for his poor, faulty flesh and spirit.
‘So we’ve lost you,’ said Cadfael. ‘If ever you’d come by choice I should have been glad of you, we can do with a man of action to leaven us. Brother Jerome needs a hand round his over-voluble throat now and again.’ Meriet had the grace to blush and the serenity to smile. ‘I’ve made my peace with Brother Jerome, very civilly and humbly, you would have approved. I hope you would! He wished me well, and said he would continue to pray for me.’ ‘Did he, indeed!’ In one who might grudgingly forgive an injury to his person, but seldom one to his dignity, that was handsome, and should be reckoned as credit to Jerome. Or was it simply that he was heartily glad to see the back of the devil’s novice, and giving devout thanks after his own fashion?