The Devils Novice by Ellis Peters Page A

haste.
    “From
Shrewsbury, brother? Pardon if I dare question, but you have been to my
father’s house? There’s news? My brother—he has not…” He checked himself there
to make belated reverence, and account for himself. “Forgive such a rough
greeting, when you do not even know me, but I am Nigel Aspley, Meriet’s
brother. Has something happened to him? He has not done—any foolishness?”
    What
should be said to that? Cadfael was by no means sure whether he considered
Meriet’s conscious actions to be foolish or not. But at least there seemed to
be one person who cared what became of him, and by the anxiety and concern in
his face suffered fears for him which were not yet justified.
    “There’s
no call for alarm on his account,” said Cadfael soothingly. “He’s well enough
and has come to no harm, you need not fear.”
    “And
he is still set—He has not changed his mind?”
    “He
has not. He is as intent as ever on taking vows.”
    “But
you’ve been with my father! What could there be to discuss with him? You are
sure that Meriet…” He fell silent, doubtfully studying Cadfael’s face. The girl
had drawn near at her leisure, and stood a little apart, watching them both
with serene composure, and in a posture of such natural grace that Cadfael’s
eyes could not forbear straying to enjoy her.
    “I
left your brother in stout heart,” he said, carefully truthful, “and of the same
mind as when he came to us. I was sent by my abbot only to speak with your
father about certain doubts which have arisen rather in the lord abbot’s mind
than in Brother Meriet’s. He is still very young to take such a step in haste,
and his zeal seems to older minds excessive. You are nearer to him in years
than either your sire or our officers,” said Cadfael persuasively. “Can you not
tell me why he may have taken this step? For what reason, sound and sufficient
to him, should he choose to leave the world so early?”
    “I
don’t know,” said Nigel lamely, and shook his head over his failure. “Why do
they do so? I never understood.” As why should he, with all the reasons he had
for remaining in and of this world? “He said he wanted it,” said Nigel.
    “He
says so still. At every turn he insists on it.”
    “You’ll
stand by him? You’ll help him to have his will? If that is truly what he
wishes?”
    “We’re
all resolved,” said Cadfael sententiously, “on helping him to his desire. Not
all young men pursue the same destiny, as you must know.” His eyes were on the
girl; she was aware of it, and he was aware of her awareness. Another coil of
red-gold hair had escaped from the band that held it; it lay against her smooth
cheek, casting a deep gold shadow.
    “Will
you carry him my dear remembrances, brother? Say he has my prayers, and my love
always.” Nigel withdrew his hand from the bridle, and stood back to let the
rider proceed.
    “And
assure him of my love, also,” said the girl in a voice of honey, heavy and
sweet. Her blue eyes lifted to Cadfael’s face. “We have been playfellows many
years, all of us here,” she said, certainly with truth. “I may speak in terms
of love, for I shall soon be his sister.”
    “Roswitha
and I are to be married at the abbey in December,” said Nigel, and again took
her by the hand.
    “I’ll
bear your messages gladly,” said Cadfael, “and wish you both all possible
blessing against the day.”
    The
mule moved resignedly, answering the slight shake of the bridle. Cadfael passed
them with his eyes still fixed on the girl Roswitha, whose infinite blue gaze
opened on him like a summer sky. The slightest of smiles touched her lips as he
passed, and a small, contented brightness flashed in her eyes. She knew that he
could not but admire her, and even the admiration of an elderly monk was
satisfaction to her. Surely the very motions she had made in his presence, so
slight and so conscious, had been