Read Online Brother Cadfael 12: The Raven in the Foregate by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ellis Peters
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spoke to me!" he said, elated. "Yes, she stopped and looked me up and down, the creature, as though she found herself in need of a page, and thought I might do, given a little polishing. Would I do for a lady's page, Cadfael?"
"What's certain," said Cadfael tolerantly, "is that you'll never do for a monk. But no, I wouldn't say a lady's service is your right place, either." He did not add: "Unless on level terms!" but that was what was in his mind. At this moment the boy had shed all pretence of being a poor widow's penniless kinsman, untutored and awkward. That was no great surprise. There had been little effort spent on the imposture here in the garden for a week past, though the boy could reassume it at a moment's notice with others, and was still the rustic simpleton in Prior Robert's patronising presence.
"Cadfael ..." Benet took him cajolingly by the shoulders and held him, tilting his curly head coaxingly, with a wilfully engaging intimacy. Given the occasion, he was well aware he could charm the birds from the trees. Nor did he have any difficulty in weighing up elder sympathisers who must once have shared much the same propensities. "Cadfael, I may never speak to her again, I may never see her again - but I can try! Who is she?"
"Her name," said Cadfael, capitulating rather from policy than from compulsion, "is Sanan Berni�s. Her father held a manor in the north-east of the shire, which was confiscated when he fought for his overlord FitzAlan and the Empress at the siege here, and died for it. Her mother married another vassal of FitzAlan, who had suffered his losses, too - the faction holds together, though they're all singing very small and lying very low here now. Giffard spends his winters mainly in his house in Shrewsbury, and since her mother died he brings his step-daughter to preside at his table-head. That's the lady you've seen pass by."
"And had better let pass by?" said Benet, ruefully smiling in acknowledgement of a plain warning. "Not for me?" He burst into the glowing grin to which Cadfael was becoming accustomed, and which sometimes gave him such qualms on behalf of his prot�, who was far too rash in the indulgence of his flashing moods. Benet laughed, and flung his arms about his mentor in a bear's hug. "What will you wager?"
Cadfael freed an arm, without much ado, and held off his boisterous aggressor by a fistful of his thick curls.
"Where you're concerned, you madcap, I would not risk a hair that's left me. But watch your gait, you move out of your part. There are others here have keen eyes."
"I do know," said Benet, brought up short and sharp, his smile sobered into gravity. "I do take care."
How had they come by this secret and barely expressed understanding? Cadfael wondered as he went to Vespers. A kind of tacit agreement had been achieved, with never a word said of doubt, suspicion or plain, reckless trust. But the changed relationship existed, and was a factor to be reckoned with.
Hugh was gone, riding south for Canterbury in uncustomary state, well escorted and in his finery. He laughed at himself, but would not abate one degree of the dignity that was his due. "If I come back deposed," he said, "at least I'll make a grand departure, and if I come back sheriff still, I'll do honour to the office."
After his going Christmas seemed already on the doorstep, and there were great preparations to be made for the long night vigil and the proper celebration of the Nativity, and it was past Vespers on Christmas Eve before Cadfael had time to make a brief visit to the town, to spend at least an hour with Aline, and take a gift to his two-year-old godson, a little wooden horse that Martin Bellecote the master-carpenter had made for him, with gaily coloured harness and trappings fit for a knight, made out of scraps of felt and cloth and leather by Cadfael himself.
A soft, sleety rain had fallen earlier, but by that hour in the evening it was growing very cold, and there was frost in the
"What's certain," said Cadfael tolerantly, "is that you'll never do for a monk. But no, I wouldn't say a lady's service is your right place, either." He did not add: "Unless on level terms!" but that was what was in his mind. At this moment the boy had shed all pretence of being a poor widow's penniless kinsman, untutored and awkward. That was no great surprise. There had been little effort spent on the imposture here in the garden for a week past, though the boy could reassume it at a moment's notice with others, and was still the rustic simpleton in Prior Robert's patronising presence.
"Cadfael ..." Benet took him cajolingly by the shoulders and held him, tilting his curly head coaxingly, with a wilfully engaging intimacy. Given the occasion, he was well aware he could charm the birds from the trees. Nor did he have any difficulty in weighing up elder sympathisers who must once have shared much the same propensities. "Cadfael, I may never speak to her again, I may never see her again - but I can try! Who is she?"
"Her name," said Cadfael, capitulating rather from policy than from compulsion, "is Sanan Berni�s. Her father held a manor in the north-east of the shire, which was confiscated when he fought for his overlord FitzAlan and the Empress at the siege here, and died for it. Her mother married another vassal of FitzAlan, who had suffered his losses, too - the faction holds together, though they're all singing very small and lying very low here now. Giffard spends his winters mainly in his house in Shrewsbury, and since her mother died he brings his step-daughter to preside at his table-head. That's the lady you've seen pass by."
"And had better let pass by?" said Benet, ruefully smiling in acknowledgement of a plain warning. "Not for me?" He burst into the glowing grin to which Cadfael was becoming accustomed, and which sometimes gave him such qualms on behalf of his prot�, who was far too rash in the indulgence of his flashing moods. Benet laughed, and flung his arms about his mentor in a bear's hug. "What will you wager?"
Cadfael freed an arm, without much ado, and held off his boisterous aggressor by a fistful of his thick curls.
"Where you're concerned, you madcap, I would not risk a hair that's left me. But watch your gait, you move out of your part. There are others here have keen eyes."
"I do know," said Benet, brought up short and sharp, his smile sobered into gravity. "I do take care."
How had they come by this secret and barely expressed understanding? Cadfael wondered as he went to Vespers. A kind of tacit agreement had been achieved, with never a word said of doubt, suspicion or plain, reckless trust. But the changed relationship existed, and was a factor to be reckoned with.
Hugh was gone, riding south for Canterbury in uncustomary state, well escorted and in his finery. He laughed at himself, but would not abate one degree of the dignity that was his due. "If I come back deposed," he said, "at least I'll make a grand departure, and if I come back sheriff still, I'll do honour to the office."
After his going Christmas seemed already on the doorstep, and there were great preparations to be made for the long night vigil and the proper celebration of the Nativity, and it was past Vespers on Christmas Eve before Cadfael had time to make a brief visit to the town, to spend at least an hour with Aline, and take a gift to his two-year-old godson, a little wooden horse that Martin Bellecote the master-carpenter had made for him, with gaily coloured harness and trappings fit for a knight, made out of scraps of felt and cloth and leather by Cadfael himself.
A soft, sleety rain had fallen earlier, but by that hour in the evening it was growing very cold, and there was frost in the
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