The Heretic's Apprentice by Ellis Peters Page A

at last night’s gathering, whatever she was expected to confirm against the speaker, it was perfectly clear to Cadfael that the girl had no reservations about her companion, indeed the very fact that they came in together, and had obviously been found together when the summons was delivered, spoke for itself. The expectancy in their faces was wondering but unthreatened, and Aldwin’s accusation, when it was uttered, would come as a shattering blow not to the young man only, but to the girl as well. Gerbert would certainly have one reluctant witness, if not a hostile one, Cadfael reflected, conscious of his own heart’s alerted and partisan sympathy. Conscious, too, that Abbot Radulfus had noted, as he had, the significance of their trusting entrance, and the wondering look they exchanged, smiling, before they made their reverence to the array of prelates and monastics before them, and waited to be enlightened.
    â€˜You sent for us, Father Abbot,’ said Elave, since no one else broke the silence. ‘We are here.’
    The ‘we’ says it all, thought Cadfael. If she had any doubts of him last night, she has forgotten them this morning, or thought them over and rejected them. And that is valid evidence, too, whatever she may be forced to say later.
    â€˜I sent for you, Elave,’ said the abbot with deliberation, ‘to help us in a certain matter which has arisen here this morning. Wait but a moment, there is one more has been summoned to attend.’
    He came in at that moment, circumspectly and in some awe of the tribunal before him, but not, Cadfael thought, ignorant of its purpose. There was no open-eyed but unintimidated wonder in Conan’s weathered, wary, rosily comely face, and noticeably he kept his eyes respectfully upon the abbot, and never cast a glance aside at Elave. He knew what was in the wind, he came prepared for it. And this one, if he discreetly showed no eagerness displayed no reluctance, either.
    â€˜My lord, they told me Conan is wanted here. That’s my name.’
    â€˜Are we now ready to proceed?’ demanded Canon Gerbert impatiently, stirring irritably in his stall.
    â€˜We are,’ said Radulfus. ‘Well, Jerome, bring in the man Aldwin. And Elave, stand forward in the centre. This man has somewhat to say of you that should be said only in your presence.’
    The name alone had jolted both Fortunata and Elave, even before Aldwin showed his face in the doorway, and came in with a resolution and belligerence that were not native to him, and probably cost him an effort to maintain. His long face was set in lines of arduous determination, a man naturally resigned and timorous bent on going through with an enterprise that called for courage. He took his stand almost within arm’s length of Elave, and jutted an aggressive jaw at the young man’s shocked stare, but there were drops of sweat on his own balding forehead. He spread his feet to take firm grip on the stones of the floor, and stared back at Elave without blinking. Elave had already begun to understand. By her bewildered face Fortunata had not. She drew back a pace or two, looking searchingly from one man’s face to the other, her lips parted on quickened breath.
    â€˜This man,’ said the abbot evenly, ‘has made certain charges against you, Elave. He says that last night, in his master’s house, you gave voice to views on matters of religion that run counter to the teachings of the Church, and bring you into grave danger of heresy. He cites these witnesses present in support of what he urges against you. How do you say, was there indeed such talk between you? You were there to speak, and they to hear?’
    â€˜Father,’ said Elave, grown very pale and quiet, ‘I was there in the house. I did have speech with them. The talk did turn on matters of faith. We had only yesterday buried a good master, it was natural we should give thought to his soul and