Read Online Brother Cadfael 05: Leper of Saint Giles by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ellis Peters
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Domville started forward suddenly with a crow of triumph. "Ah, but what's here? There's something yet in the linen roll - I caught a glint ..." He plucked at the dangling end of the cloth, almost wrenching it from the prior's hand. The silver medallion fell to the ground, some inches more of its wrapping unrolled, and something flashed and fell after, uncoiling like a little golden snake, to lie in a pool of fine yellow links and creamy pearls between the cobbles at Joscelin's feet.
He was so dumbfounded that he could not find a word to say, but stood staring at the small, precious thing that damned him. When at last he raised his eyes, and caught the intent gaze of all those other eyes, Domville gleefully content, the sheriff grimly satisfied, the abbot aloof and sad, and everywhere mute accusation, he shook violently, stirring out of his shocked stillness. He cried out passionately that he had not taken it, that it was not he who had put it there. But he uttered his denial only once, recognizing at once its inevitability and its uselessness. He had some mad thought of putting up a fight for it, but met the abbot's stern, disillusioned eye, and deliberately put away the thought. Not here! He had pledged himself to forswear offence against this place. So here there was nothing he could do but submit. Once outside the gates it would be another matter, and the surer they were of his submission, the fewer crippling precautions they were likely to take. He stood mute and unresisting as the sergeant and his men closed in upon him.
They stripped him of sword and dagger, and kept close hold of him by both arms, but because they were many and he was but one, and seemed utterly subdued, they did not trouble to bind him. Domville stood by, vengefully grinning, and did not deign to stoop to pick up his property, leaving it for Simon to hurry forward, abandoning the grey horse's bridle, to retrieve the collar and hand it to him. He cast a very doubtful and anxious look at Joscelin as he did so, but said never a word. The Picards looked on with evident and malicious satisfaction. A nuisance out of their way, and if Domville pleased, out of everyone's way, for ever. Such a theft, with the additional odour of petty treason about it, even if he had already been dismissed his lord's service, could cost a man his neck.
"I will have the full penalty of law on him," said Domville, and fixed a commanding stare upon the sheriff.
"That will be matter for the court," said Prestcote shortly, and turned to his sergeant. "Have him away to the castle. I must have some talk with Sir Godfrid Picard and the lord abbot, I'll follow you."
The prisoner went with lamb-like meekness, his fair head drooping, his arms lax and submissive in the grip of two brawny men-at-arms. Brothers and guests and servants fell away to leave him passage, and a horrified silence closed after his passing.
Brother Cadfael was left gazing as numbly as the rest. It was hard indeed to recognize the belligerent youngster who had galloped into the great court so short a time before, or the audacious lover who had penetrated into the enemy's territory to plot something desperate with a girl too frightened to reach for what her heart desired. Cadfael could not believe in such sudden translations. On impulse he made off towards the gate in haste, to keep the sorry little procession in sight. Behind him as he went he heard Simon Aguilon's voice asking: "Shall I take his grey back to our stable, sir? We cannot abandon the poor beast, he's done no wrong." It was not quite clear from the tone whether he believed the poor beast's master had done any, but Cadfael doubted it. He could not be the only one who had reservations about that theft.
Joscelin and his guards were reaching the approaches of the bridge when Cadfael emerged into the Foregate and hastened after them. The hill of Shrewsbury, with its towers and houses cresting the long line of the wall, gleamed fitfully in a
Domville started forward suddenly with a crow of triumph. "Ah, but what's here? There's something yet in the linen roll - I caught a glint ..." He plucked at the dangling end of the cloth, almost wrenching it from the prior's hand. The silver medallion fell to the ground, some inches more of its wrapping unrolled, and something flashed and fell after, uncoiling like a little golden snake, to lie in a pool of fine yellow links and creamy pearls between the cobbles at Joscelin's feet.
He was so dumbfounded that he could not find a word to say, but stood staring at the small, precious thing that damned him. When at last he raised his eyes, and caught the intent gaze of all those other eyes, Domville gleefully content, the sheriff grimly satisfied, the abbot aloof and sad, and everywhere mute accusation, he shook violently, stirring out of his shocked stillness. He cried out passionately that he had not taken it, that it was not he who had put it there. But he uttered his denial only once, recognizing at once its inevitability and its uselessness. He had some mad thought of putting up a fight for it, but met the abbot's stern, disillusioned eye, and deliberately put away the thought. Not here! He had pledged himself to forswear offence against this place. So here there was nothing he could do but submit. Once outside the gates it would be another matter, and the surer they were of his submission, the fewer crippling precautions they were likely to take. He stood mute and unresisting as the sergeant and his men closed in upon him.
They stripped him of sword and dagger, and kept close hold of him by both arms, but because they were many and he was but one, and seemed utterly subdued, they did not trouble to bind him. Domville stood by, vengefully grinning, and did not deign to stoop to pick up his property, leaving it for Simon to hurry forward, abandoning the grey horse's bridle, to retrieve the collar and hand it to him. He cast a very doubtful and anxious look at Joscelin as he did so, but said never a word. The Picards looked on with evident and malicious satisfaction. A nuisance out of their way, and if Domville pleased, out of everyone's way, for ever. Such a theft, with the additional odour of petty treason about it, even if he had already been dismissed his lord's service, could cost a man his neck.
"I will have the full penalty of law on him," said Domville, and fixed a commanding stare upon the sheriff.
"That will be matter for the court," said Prestcote shortly, and turned to his sergeant. "Have him away to the castle. I must have some talk with Sir Godfrid Picard and the lord abbot, I'll follow you."
The prisoner went with lamb-like meekness, his fair head drooping, his arms lax and submissive in the grip of two brawny men-at-arms. Brothers and guests and servants fell away to leave him passage, and a horrified silence closed after his passing.
Brother Cadfael was left gazing as numbly as the rest. It was hard indeed to recognize the belligerent youngster who had galloped into the great court so short a time before, or the audacious lover who had penetrated into the enemy's territory to plot something desperate with a girl too frightened to reach for what her heart desired. Cadfael could not believe in such sudden translations. On impulse he made off towards the gate in haste, to keep the sorry little procession in sight. Behind him as he went he heard Simon Aguilon's voice asking: "Shall I take his grey back to our stable, sir? We cannot abandon the poor beast, he's done no wrong." It was not quite clear from the tone whether he believed the poor beast's master had done any, but Cadfael doubted it. He could not be the only one who had reservations about that theft.
Joscelin and his guards were reaching the approaches of the bridge when Cadfael emerged into the Foregate and hastened after them. The hill of Shrewsbury, with its towers and houses cresting the long line of the wall, gleamed fitfully in a
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