Somewhere not far behind them
Rhun leaned on his crutches, his fair face frowning in anxious dismay, Aunt
Alice attendant at his shoulder, bright with curiosity. Here are we all,
thought Cadfael, and not one of us knows what is in any other mind, or who has
done what has been done, or what will come of it for any of those who look on
and marvel.
“You
cannot tell,” suggested Prior Robert, agitated and grieved, “who stood close to
you during the service? If indeed some ill-conditioned person has so misused
the holy office as to commit theft in the very sacredness of the Mass…”
“Father,
I was intent only upon the altar.” Ciaran shook with fervour, holding the
ravished scrip open before him with his sparse possessions bared to be seen.
“We were close pressed, so many people… as is only seemly, in such a shrine…
Matthew was close at my back, but so he ever is. Who else there may have been
by me, how can I say? There was no man nor woman among us who was not hemmed in
every way.”
“It
is truth,” said Prior Robert, who had been much gratified at the large
attendance. “Father, the gate is now closed, we are all here who were present
at Mass. And surely we all have a desire to see this wrong righted.”
“All,
as I suppose,” said Radulfus drily, “but one. One, who brought in here a knife or
dagger sharp enough to slice through these tough cords cleanly. What other
intents he brought in with him, I bid him consider and tremble for his soul.
Robert, this ring must be found. All men of goodwill here will offer their aid,
and show freely what they have. So will every guest who has not theft and
sacrilege to hide. And see to it also that enquiry be made, whether other
articles of value have not been missed. For one theft means one thief, here
within.”
“It
shall be seen to, Father,” said Robert fervently. “No honest, devout pilgrim
will grudge to offer his aid. How could he wish to share his lodging here with
a thief?”
There
was a stir of agreement and support, perhaps slightly delayed, as every man and
woman eyed a neighbour, and then in haste elected to speak first. They came
from every direction, hitherto unknown to one another, mingling and forming
friendships now with the abandon of holiday. But how did they know who was
immaculate and who was suspect, now the world had probed a merciless finger
within the fold?
“Father,”
pleaded Ciaran, still sweating and shaking with distress, “here I offer in this
scrip all that I brought into this enclave. Examine it, show that I have indeed
been robbed. Here I came without even shoes to my feet, my all is here in your
hands. And my fellow Matthew will open to you his own scrip as freely, an
example to all these others that they may deliver themselves pure of blame.
What we offer, they will not refuse.”
Matthew
had withdrawn his hand from Melangell’s sharply at this word. He shifted the
unbleached cloth scrip, very like Ciaran’s, round upon his hip. Ciaran’s meagre
travelling equipment lay open in the prior’s hands. Robert slid them back into
the pouch from which they had come, and looked where Ciaran’s distressed gaze
guided him.
“Into
your hands, Father, and willingly,” said Matthew, and stripped the bag from its
buckles and held it forth.
Robert
acknowledged the offering with a grave bow, and opened and probed it with
delicate consideration. Most of what was there within he did not display,
though he handled it. A spare shirt and linen drawers, crumpled from being
carried so, and laundered on the way, probably more than once. The means of a
gentleman’s sparse toilet, razor, morsel of lye soap, a leather-bound breviary,
a lean purse, a folded trophy of embroidered ribbon. Robert drew forth the only
item he felt he must show, a sheathed dagger, such as any gentleman might carry
at his right hip, barely longer than a man’s hand.
“Yes,
that is mine,” said Matthew,
Rhun leaned on his crutches, his fair face frowning in anxious dismay, Aunt
Alice attendant at his shoulder, bright with curiosity. Here are we all,
thought Cadfael, and not one of us knows what is in any other mind, or who has
done what has been done, or what will come of it for any of those who look on
and marvel.
“You
cannot tell,” suggested Prior Robert, agitated and grieved, “who stood close to
you during the service? If indeed some ill-conditioned person has so misused
the holy office as to commit theft in the very sacredness of the Mass…”
“Father,
I was intent only upon the altar.” Ciaran shook with fervour, holding the
ravished scrip open before him with his sparse possessions bared to be seen.
“We were close pressed, so many people… as is only seemly, in such a shrine…
Matthew was close at my back, but so he ever is. Who else there may have been
by me, how can I say? There was no man nor woman among us who was not hemmed in
every way.”
“It
is truth,” said Prior Robert, who had been much gratified at the large
attendance. “Father, the gate is now closed, we are all here who were present
at Mass. And surely we all have a desire to see this wrong righted.”
“All,
as I suppose,” said Radulfus drily, “but one. One, who brought in here a knife or
dagger sharp enough to slice through these tough cords cleanly. What other
intents he brought in with him, I bid him consider and tremble for his soul.
Robert, this ring must be found. All men of goodwill here will offer their aid,
and show freely what they have. So will every guest who has not theft and
sacrilege to hide. And see to it also that enquiry be made, whether other
articles of value have not been missed. For one theft means one thief, here
within.”
“It
shall be seen to, Father,” said Robert fervently. “No honest, devout pilgrim
will grudge to offer his aid. How could he wish to share his lodging here with
a thief?”
There
was a stir of agreement and support, perhaps slightly delayed, as every man and
woman eyed a neighbour, and then in haste elected to speak first. They came
from every direction, hitherto unknown to one another, mingling and forming
friendships now with the abandon of holiday. But how did they know who was
immaculate and who was suspect, now the world had probed a merciless finger
within the fold?
“Father,”
pleaded Ciaran, still sweating and shaking with distress, “here I offer in this
scrip all that I brought into this enclave. Examine it, show that I have indeed
been robbed. Here I came without even shoes to my feet, my all is here in your
hands. And my fellow Matthew will open to you his own scrip as freely, an
example to all these others that they may deliver themselves pure of blame.
What we offer, they will not refuse.”
Matthew
had withdrawn his hand from Melangell’s sharply at this word. He shifted the
unbleached cloth scrip, very like Ciaran’s, round upon his hip. Ciaran’s meagre
travelling equipment lay open in the prior’s hands. Robert slid them back into
the pouch from which they had come, and looked where Ciaran’s distressed gaze
guided him.
“Into
your hands, Father, and willingly,” said Matthew, and stripped the bag from its
buckles and held it forth.
Robert
acknowledged the offering with a grave bow, and opened and probed it with
delicate consideration. Most of what was there within he did not display,
though he handled it. A spare shirt and linen drawers, crumpled from being
carried so, and laundered on the way, probably more than once. The means of a
gentleman’s sparse toilet, razor, morsel of lye soap, a leather-bound breviary,
a lean purse, a folded trophy of embroidered ribbon. Robert drew forth the only
item he felt he must show, a sheathed dagger, such as any gentleman might carry
at his right hip, barely longer than a man’s hand.
“Yes,
that is mine,” said Matthew,
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