Read Online Brother Cadfael 14: The Hermit of Eyton Forest by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellis Peters
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the west country, and no way out towards London. She may well have sent out to him at the last moment, in so desperate a situation as she's in now. And rumour down there says, it seems, that Bouchier was carrying treasure to him, less in coin than in jewels. It may well be so, for he needs to pay his men. Loyal for love though they may be, they still have to live and eat, and he's beggared himself already in her service.'
'There's been talk, this autumn,' said Cadfael, thoughtfully frowning, 'that Bishop Henry of Winchester has been busy trying to lure away Brian to the king's side. Bishop Henry has money enough to buy whoever's for sale, but I doubt if even he could bid high enough to move FitzCount. All this time the man has shown as incorruptible. She had no need to try and outbid her enemies for Brian.'
'None. But she may well have thought, when the king's host closed round her, to send him an earnest of the value she sets on him, while the way was still open, or might at least be attempted by a single brave man. At such a pass, it may even have seemed to her the last chance for such a word ever to pass between them.'
Cadfael thought on that, and acknowledged its truth. King Stephen would never be a threat to his cousin's life, however bitter their rivalry had been, but if once she was made captive he would be forced to hold her in close ward for his crown's sake. Nor was she likely ever to relinquish her claim, even in prison, and agree to terms that would lightly release her. Friends and allies thus parted might, in very truth, never see each other again.
'And a single brave man did attempt it,' reflected Cadfael soberly. 'And his horse found straying, his harness awry, his saddlebags emptied, and blood on saddle and saddlecloth. So where is Renaud Bourchier? Murdered for what he carried, and buried somewhere in the woods or slung into the river?'
'What else can a man think? They have not found his body yet. Round Oxford men have other things to do this autumn besides scour the woods for a dead man. There are dead men enough to bury after the looting and burning of Oxford town,' said Hugh with dry bitterness, almost resigned to the random slaughters of this capricious civil war.
'I wonder how many within the castle knew of his errand? She would hardly blazon abroad her intent, but someone surely got wind of it.'
'So it seems, and made very ill use of what he knew.' Hugh shook himself, heaving off from his shoulders the distant evils that were out of his writ. 'Thanks be to God, I am not sheriff of Oxfordshire! Our troubles here are mild enough, a little family bickering that leads to blows now and then, a bit of thieving, the customary poaching in season. Oh, and of course the bewitchment that seems to have fallen on your woodland of Eyton.' Cadfael had told him what the abbot, perhaps, had not thought important enough to tell, that Dionisia had somehow coaxed her hermit into her quarrel, and that good man had surely taken very seriously her impersonation of a grieving grandam cruelly deprived of the society of her only grandchild. 'And he fears worse to come, does he? I wonder what the next news from Eyton will be?'
As it so happened the next news from Eyton was just hurrying towards them round the corner of the tall box hedge, borne by a novice despatched in haste by Prior Robert from the gatehouse. He came at a run, the skirts of his habit billowing, and pulled up with just enough breath to get out his message without waiting to be asked.
'Brother Cadfael, you're wanted urgently. The hermit's boy's come back to say you're needed at Eilmund's assart, and Father Abbot says take a horse and go quickly, and bring him back word how the forester does. There's been another landslip, and a tree came down on him. His leg's broken.'
They offered Hyacinth rest and a good meal for his trouble, but he would not stay. As long as he could hold the pace he clung by Cadfael's stirrup leather and ran with him, and even when
'There's been talk, this autumn,' said Cadfael, thoughtfully frowning, 'that Bishop Henry of Winchester has been busy trying to lure away Brian to the king's side. Bishop Henry has money enough to buy whoever's for sale, but I doubt if even he could bid high enough to move FitzCount. All this time the man has shown as incorruptible. She had no need to try and outbid her enemies for Brian.'
'None. But she may well have thought, when the king's host closed round her, to send him an earnest of the value she sets on him, while the way was still open, or might at least be attempted by a single brave man. At such a pass, it may even have seemed to her the last chance for such a word ever to pass between them.'
Cadfael thought on that, and acknowledged its truth. King Stephen would never be a threat to his cousin's life, however bitter their rivalry had been, but if once she was made captive he would be forced to hold her in close ward for his crown's sake. Nor was she likely ever to relinquish her claim, even in prison, and agree to terms that would lightly release her. Friends and allies thus parted might, in very truth, never see each other again.
'And a single brave man did attempt it,' reflected Cadfael soberly. 'And his horse found straying, his harness awry, his saddlebags emptied, and blood on saddle and saddlecloth. So where is Renaud Bourchier? Murdered for what he carried, and buried somewhere in the woods or slung into the river?'
'What else can a man think? They have not found his body yet. Round Oxford men have other things to do this autumn besides scour the woods for a dead man. There are dead men enough to bury after the looting and burning of Oxford town,' said Hugh with dry bitterness, almost resigned to the random slaughters of this capricious civil war.
'I wonder how many within the castle knew of his errand? She would hardly blazon abroad her intent, but someone surely got wind of it.'
'So it seems, and made very ill use of what he knew.' Hugh shook himself, heaving off from his shoulders the distant evils that were out of his writ. 'Thanks be to God, I am not sheriff of Oxfordshire! Our troubles here are mild enough, a little family bickering that leads to blows now and then, a bit of thieving, the customary poaching in season. Oh, and of course the bewitchment that seems to have fallen on your woodland of Eyton.' Cadfael had told him what the abbot, perhaps, had not thought important enough to tell, that Dionisia had somehow coaxed her hermit into her quarrel, and that good man had surely taken very seriously her impersonation of a grieving grandam cruelly deprived of the society of her only grandchild. 'And he fears worse to come, does he? I wonder what the next news from Eyton will be?'
As it so happened the next news from Eyton was just hurrying towards them round the corner of the tall box hedge, borne by a novice despatched in haste by Prior Robert from the gatehouse. He came at a run, the skirts of his habit billowing, and pulled up with just enough breath to get out his message without waiting to be asked.
'Brother Cadfael, you're wanted urgently. The hermit's boy's come back to say you're needed at Eilmund's assart, and Father Abbot says take a horse and go quickly, and bring him back word how the forester does. There's been another landslip, and a tree came down on him. His leg's broken.'
They offered Hyacinth rest and a good meal for his trouble, but he would not stay. As long as he could hold the pace he clung by Cadfael's stirrup leather and ran with him, and even when
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