Brother Cadfael 08: The Devil's Novice

west, based upon the city of Gloucester. An exceedingly able, ambitious and practical cleric might well feel some sympathy upon both sides, and a great deal more exasperation with both sides; and it was consistent with his situation, torn between kin, that he should have spent all the spring and summer months of this year trying his best to get them to come together sensibly, and make some arrangement for the future that should appease, if not satisfy, both claims, and give England a credible government and some prospect of the restoration of law. He had done his best, and even managed to bring representatives of both parties to meet near Bath only a month or so ago. But nothing had come of it.
    'Though it stopped the fighting,' said Hugh wryly, 'at least for a while. But no, there's no fruit to gather.'
    'As we heard it,' said Cadfael, 'the empress was willing to have her claim laid before the church as judge, and Stephen was not.'
    'No marvel!' said Hugh, and grinned briefly at the thought. 'He is in possession, she is not. In any submission to trial, he has all to lose, she has nothing at stake, and something to gain. Even a hung judgement would reflect she is no fool. And my king, God give him better sense, has affronted the church, which is not slow to avenge itself. No, there was nothing to be hoped for there. Bishop Henry is bound away into France at this moment, he hasn't given up hope, he's after the backing of the French King and Count Theobald of Normandy. He'll be busy these next weeks, working out some propositions for peace with them, and come back armed to accost both these enemies again. To tell truth, he hoped for more backing here than ever he got, from the north above all. But they held their tongues and stayed at home.'
    'Chester?' hazarded Cadfael.
    Earl Ranulf of Chester was an independent-minded demi-king in a strong northern palatine, and married to a daughter of the earl of Gloucester, the empress's half-brother and chief champion in this fight, but he had grudges against both factions, and had kept a cautious peace in his own realm so far, without committing himself to arms for either party.
    'He and his half-brother, William of Roumare. Roumare has large holdings in Lincolnshire, and the two between them are a force to be reckoned with. They've held the balance up there, granted, but they could have done more. Well, we can be grateful even for a passing truce. And we can hope.'
    Hope was in no very generous supply in England during these hard years, Cadfael reflected ruefully. But do him justice, Henry of Blois was trying his best to bring order out of chaos. Henry was proof positive that there is a grand career to be made in the world by early assumption of the cowl. Monk of Cluny, abbot of Glastonbury, bishop of Winchester, papal legate - a rise as abrupt and spectacular as a rainbow. True, he was a king's nephew to start with, and owed his rapid advancement to the old king Henry. Able younger sons from lesser families choosing the cloister and the habit could not all expect the mitre, within or without their abbeys. That brittle youngster with the passionate mouth and the green-flecked eyes, for instance - how far was he likely to get on the road to power?
    'Hugh,' said Cadfael, damping down his brazier with a turf to keep it live but sleepy, in case he should want it later, 'what do you know of the Aspleys of Aspley? Down the fringe of the Long Forest, I fancy, no great way from the town, but solitary.'
    'Not so solitary,' said Hugh, mildly surprised by the query. 'There are three neighbour manors there, all grown from what began as one assart. They all held from the great earl, they all hold from the crown now. He's taken the name Aspley. His grandsire was Saxon to the finger-ends, but a solid man, and Earl Roger took him into favour and left him his land. They're Saxon still, but they'd taken his salt, and were loyal to it and went with the earldom when it came to the crown. This lord took a Norman wife and she brought him a manor somewhere to the north, beyond Nottingham, but Aspley is still the head of his honour. Why, what's Aspley to you?'
    'A shape on a horse in the rain,' said Cadfael simply. 'He's brought us his younger son, heaven-bent or hell-bent on the cloistered life. I wondered why, that's the truth of it.'
    'Why?' Hugh shrugged and smiled. 'A small honour, and an elder brother. There'll be no land for him, unless he has the martial bent and sets out to carve some for