Read Brother Cadfael 21: A Rare Benedictine for Free Online

terms to the obligatory return of the manor and village after his death, and pledging his son's loyal observance of the obligation.
    It might have been want of proofs that caused Roger to make so poor a job of refuting the evidence, or it might have been craven conscience. Whatever the cause, judgement was given for the abbey.
    Cadfael presented himself before the lord he was leaving barely an hour after the verdict was given.
    "My lord, your suit is concluded, and my service with it. I have done what I pledged, here I part from you."
    Roger sat sunk in gloom and rage, and lifted upon him a glare that should have felled him, but failed of its impact.
    "I misdoubt me," said Roger, smouldering, "how you have observed your loyalty to me. Who else could know..." He bit his tongue in time, for as long as it remained unsaid no accusation had been made, and no rebuttal was needed. He would have liked to ask: How did you know? But he thought better of it. "Go, then, if you have nothing more to say."
    "As to that," said Cadfael meaningly, "nothing more need be said. It's over." And that was recognisable as a promise, but with uneasy implications, for plainly on some other matter he still had a thing to say.
    "My lord, give some thought to this, for I was until now in your service, and wish you no harm. Of those four who attended Prior Heribert on his way here, not one carried arms. There was neither sword nor dagger nor knife of any kind among the five of them."
    He saw the significance of that go home, slowly but with bitter force. The masterless men had been nothing but a children's tale, but until now Roger had thought, as he had been meant to think, that that dagger-stroke in the forest had been a bold attempt by an abbey servant to defend his prior. He blinked and swallowed and stared, and began to sweat, beholding a perilous gulf into which he had all but stumbled.
    "There were none there who bore arms," said Cadfael, "but your own."
    A double-edged ambush that had been, to have him out in the forest by night, all unsuspecting. And there were as many miles between Woodstock and Sutton Mauduit returning as coming, and there would be other nights as dark on the way.
    "Who?" asked Roger in a grating whisper. "Which of them? Give him a name!"
    "No," said Cadfael simply. "Do your own divining. I am no longer in your service, I have said all I mean to say."
    Roger's face had turned grey. He was hearing again the plan unfolded so seductively in his ear. "You cannot leave me so! If you know so much, for God's sake return with me, see me safely home, at least. You I could trust!"
    "No," said Cadfael again. "You are warned, now guard yourself."
    It was fair, he considered; it was enough. He turned and went away without another word. He went, just as he was, to Vespers in the parish church, for no better reason or so he thought then than that the dimness within the open doorway beckoned him as he turned his back on a duty completed, inviting him to quietness and thought, and the bell was just sounding. The little prior was there, ardent in thanksgiving, one more creature who had fumbled his way to the completion of a task, and the turning of a leaf in the book of his life.
    Cadfael watched out the office, and stood mute and still for some time after priest and worshippers had departed. The silence after their going was deeper than the ocean and more secure than the earth. Cadfael breathed and consumed it like new bread. It was the light touch of a small hand on the hilt of his sword that startled him out of that profound isolation. He looked down to see a little acolyte, no higher than his elbow, regarding him gravely from great round eyes of blinding blue, intent and challenging, as solemn as ever was angelic messenger.
    "Sir," said the child in stern treble reproof, tapping the hilt with an infant finger, "should not all weapons of war be laid aside here?"
    "Sir," said Cadfael hardly less gravely, though he was smiling, "you may very well