Brother Cadfael 05: Leper of Saint Giles

well be thinking of your own case, lad, you've as much to lose as I have. You may be his sister's son, and his heir now, but how if -" He set his teeth; it was hard to utter it, but he was perversely determined to drive the knife deep into his own flesh, and twist it to double the pain. "How if things change? A young wife ... How if he gets a son of this marriage? Your nose will be out of joint."
    Simon leaned his curly brown head back against the stones of the wall, and laughed aloud. "What, after thirty years of marriage to my Aunt Isabel, and God knows how many passages with how many ladies outside the pale, and never a brat to show for it all? Lad, if he has a seed in him, for all his appetites, I'll eat the fruit myself! My inheritance is safe enough, I'm in no danger. I'm twenty-five, and he's nearing sixty. I can wait!" He straightened alertly. "Look, they're coming!"
    But Joscelin had already caught the first glimmer of colour and movement along the road, and stiffened to gaze. They came on briskly, Godfrid Picard and his party, in haste to gain the hospitable shelter of the abbey. Simon loosed his clasp, feeling Joscelin draw away.
    "For God's sake, boy, what's the use? She's not for you!" But he said it in a despairing sigh, and Joscelin did not even hear it.
    They came, and they passed. The ogres on either side of her loomed lean and subtle and greedy, heads arrogantly high, but brows knotted and faces pinched, as though there had already been some happening that had displeased them. And there between them was she, a pale desperation in a golden shell of display, her small face all eyes, but blind eyes, gazing at nothing, seeing nothing. Until she drew close, and something - he wanted to believe his nearness and need - disquieted her, caused her to shiver, and turn her great eyes where she hardly dared turn her whole head, towards the place where he stood. He was not certain that she saw him, but he was certain that she knew he was there, that she had felt, scented, breathed him as she passed between her guards. She did not make the mistake of looking round, or in any way changing the fixed, submissive stillness of her face; but as she passed she lifted her right hand to her cheek, held it so a moment, and again let it fall.
    "I do believe," sighed Simon Aguilon, bringing his friend back in his arm to the courtyard, "that you haven't given up, even now. For God's sake, what have you to hope for? Two days more, and she's my lady Domville."
    Joscelin held his peace, and thought of the uplifted hand, and knew in his heart that her fingers had touched her lips; and that was more than had been agreed.
    The entire guest-hall of the abbey, apart from the common quarters, had been given over to Sir Godfrid Picard and his wedding party. In the privacy of their own chamber, within, Agnes Picard turned to her husband with an anxious face. "I still do not like this quietness of hers. I do not trust her."
    He shrugged it off disdainfully. "Ah, you fret too much. She has given over the battle. She is altogether submissive. What can she do? Daniel has his orders not to let her out of the gate, and Walter keeps watch on the parish door of the church. There's no other way out, unless she finds a means to fly over the wall, of leap the Meole brook. No harm in keeping a close eye on her, even within, but not so close as to draw too much attention. But I'm sure you mistake her. That timid mouse has not the courage to stand up at the altar and declare herself unwilling."
    "As well!" said the lady grimly. "I hear this Abbot Radulfus has a fine conceit of his own rights and powers, and is no respecter of barons if he feels his writ infringed. But I wish I could be as sure of her lameness as you."
    "You fret too much, I tell you, woman. Once bring her to the altar, and she'll speak her words as taught, and no bones about it."
    Agnes gnawed a lip, and still was not quite convinced. "Well, it may be so ... But for all that, I wish it was done. I shall breathe the easier when these next two days are over."
    In Brother Cadfael's workshop in the herbarium, Brother Oswin shuffled his feet, folded his large, willing but disastrous hands, and looked sheepish. Cadfael looked apprehensively round the hut, aware of ill news to come, though it was an advance if the lad even realized it when he had done something mad, without having it pointed out to him. Most things appeared to be still in their places. The brazier burned low, there were no