Brother Cadfael 14: The Hermit of Eyton Forest by Ellis Peters Page B
Authors: Ellis Peters
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forest. The gross affront and grosser wrong he accepted in sombre silence, and the right and duty of retribution, as incumbent now upon the church as on the secular authority, he took up with a deep assenting nod of his head, and a grim tightening of his long, firm lips. In the hush while he thought, they heard the soft, sandalled steps of the brothers descending the night stairs.
'And you have left word for Hugh Beringar?' asked the abbot.
'At his house and at the castle.'
'No man can do more, then, until first light. He must be brought here, for here his son will come. But you-you will be needed, you can lead straight to where he lies. Go now, I excuse you from the office, go and take some rest, and at dawn ride to join the sheriff. Say to him that I will send a party after, to bring the body home.'
In the first hesitant light of a chill morning they stood over Drogo Bosiet's body, Hugh Beringar and Cadfael, a sergeant of Hugh's garrison and two men-at-arms, all silent, all with eyes fixed on the great patch of encrusted blood that soaked the back of the rich riding coat. The grass hung as heavy and flattened with dew as if after rain, and the moisture had gathered in great pearls in the woollen pile of the dead man's clothing, and starred the bushes in a treasury of cobwebs.
'Since he plucked out the dagger from the wound,' said Hugh, 'most likely he took it away with him. But we'll look about for it, in case he discarded it. And you say the straps of the saddle-roll were sliced through? After the slaying - he needed the knife for that. Quicker and easier in the dark to cut it loose than unbuckle it, and whoever he was, he wouldn't want to linger. Strange, though, that a mounted man should fall victim to such an attack. At the least sound he had only to spur and draw clear, surely.'
'But I think,' said Cadfael, studying how the body lay, 'that he was on foot here, and leading the horse. He was a stranger, and the path here is very narrow and the trees crowd close, and it was dark or getting dark. See the leaves that have clung to his boot soles. He never had time to turn, the one stroke was enough. Where he had been I don't know, but he was on his way back to his lodging in our guest hall when he was struck down. With no struggle and little noise. The horse had taken no great alarm, he strayed only a few yards.'
'Which argues an expert footpad and thief,' said Hugh. 'But do you believe in that? In my writ and so close to the town?'
'No. But some secret rogue, perhaps even a sneak thief out of the town, might risk one exploit, knowing Eilmund is laid up at home. But this is guessing,' said Cadfael, shaking his head. 'Now and then even a poacher might be tempted to try murder, if he came on a man of substance, alone and at night. But guessing is small use.'
The party sent by Abbot Radulfus to carry Drogo back to the abbey were already winding their way along the path with their litter. Cadfael knelt in the grass, soaking his habit at the knees in the plenteous dew, and carefully turned the stiffening body face upward. The heavy muscling of the cheeks had fallen slack, the eyes, so disproportionately small for the massive countenance, were half open. He looked older and less arrogantly brutal in death, a mortal man like other men, almost piteous. The hand that had lain hidden under his body wore a heavy silver ring.
'Something the thief missed,' said Hugh, looking down with something of startled regret in his face for so much power now powerless.
'Another sign of haste. Or he would have ransacked every garment. And proof enough that the body was not moved. He lies as he fell, facing towards Shrewsbury. It's as I said, he was on his way home.'
'There's a son expected, you said? Come,' said Hugh, 'we can leave him to your men now, and my fellows will comb the woods all round in case there's sign or trace to be found, though I doubt it. You and I will be off back to the abbey, and see what the abbot has brought to
'And you have left word for Hugh Beringar?' asked the abbot.
'At his house and at the castle.'
'No man can do more, then, until first light. He must be brought here, for here his son will come. But you-you will be needed, you can lead straight to where he lies. Go now, I excuse you from the office, go and take some rest, and at dawn ride to join the sheriff. Say to him that I will send a party after, to bring the body home.'
In the first hesitant light of a chill morning they stood over Drogo Bosiet's body, Hugh Beringar and Cadfael, a sergeant of Hugh's garrison and two men-at-arms, all silent, all with eyes fixed on the great patch of encrusted blood that soaked the back of the rich riding coat. The grass hung as heavy and flattened with dew as if after rain, and the moisture had gathered in great pearls in the woollen pile of the dead man's clothing, and starred the bushes in a treasury of cobwebs.
'Since he plucked out the dagger from the wound,' said Hugh, 'most likely he took it away with him. But we'll look about for it, in case he discarded it. And you say the straps of the saddle-roll were sliced through? After the slaying - he needed the knife for that. Quicker and easier in the dark to cut it loose than unbuckle it, and whoever he was, he wouldn't want to linger. Strange, though, that a mounted man should fall victim to such an attack. At the least sound he had only to spur and draw clear, surely.'
'But I think,' said Cadfael, studying how the body lay, 'that he was on foot here, and leading the horse. He was a stranger, and the path here is very narrow and the trees crowd close, and it was dark or getting dark. See the leaves that have clung to his boot soles. He never had time to turn, the one stroke was enough. Where he had been I don't know, but he was on his way back to his lodging in our guest hall when he was struck down. With no struggle and little noise. The horse had taken no great alarm, he strayed only a few yards.'
'Which argues an expert footpad and thief,' said Hugh. 'But do you believe in that? In my writ and so close to the town?'
'No. But some secret rogue, perhaps even a sneak thief out of the town, might risk one exploit, knowing Eilmund is laid up at home. But this is guessing,' said Cadfael, shaking his head. 'Now and then even a poacher might be tempted to try murder, if he came on a man of substance, alone and at night. But guessing is small use.'
The party sent by Abbot Radulfus to carry Drogo back to the abbey were already winding their way along the path with their litter. Cadfael knelt in the grass, soaking his habit at the knees in the plenteous dew, and carefully turned the stiffening body face upward. The heavy muscling of the cheeks had fallen slack, the eyes, so disproportionately small for the massive countenance, were half open. He looked older and less arrogantly brutal in death, a mortal man like other men, almost piteous. The hand that had lain hidden under his body wore a heavy silver ring.
'Something the thief missed,' said Hugh, looking down with something of startled regret in his face for so much power now powerless.
'Another sign of haste. Or he would have ransacked every garment. And proof enough that the body was not moved. He lies as he fell, facing towards Shrewsbury. It's as I said, he was on his way home.'
'There's a son expected, you said? Come,' said Hugh, 'we can leave him to your men now, and my fellows will comb the woods all round in case there's sign or trace to be found, though I doubt it. You and I will be off back to the abbey, and see what the abbot has brought to
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