Brother Cadfael 15: The Confession of Brother Haluin

flooding. After such a heavy fall a rapid thaw would have seen a great mass of water coming down the river and draining from every drift, and the Severn would have backed up the Meole Brook and flooded the lower part of the fields, even if the enclave itself escaped inundation. This year they were spared that trouble, and Hugh, kicking off his boots and shrugging off his cloak in his own house by Saint Mary's Church, with his wife bringing him his furred shoes and his son clinging to his sword belt and clamouring to have his new, painted wooden knight duly admired, was able to report an easy journey for the time of year, and a satisfactory reception at court for his stewardship.
    "Though I doubt if this Christmas truce will last long," he said to Cadfael later, after acquainting the abbot with all the news from Winchester. "He's swallowed the failure at Oxford gallantly enough, but for all that, he's on his mettle for vengeance, he'll not sit still for long, winter or no. He wants Wareham back, but it's well stocked, and manned to the battlements, and Stephen never did have the patience for a siege. He'd like a fortress more to the west, to carry the war to Robert's country. There's no guessing what he'll try first. But he wants none of me or my men there in the south, he's far too wary of the earl of Chester to keep me long out of my shire. Thank God, for I'm of the same mind myself," said Hugh blithely. "And how have you been faring? Sorry I am to hear your best illuminator had a fall that all but ended him. Father Abbot told me of it. I can hardly have left you an hour, that day, when it happened. Is it true he's mending well?"
    "Better than any of us ever expected," said Cadfael, "least of all the man himself, for he was certainly bent on clearing his soul for death. But he's out of the shadow, and in a day or two we'll have him out of his bed. But his feet are crippled for life, the slates chopped them piecemeal. Brother Luke is cutting some crutches to his measure. Hugh," said Cadfael directly, "what do you know of the de Clarys who hold the manor of Hales? There was one of them was a Crusader nearly twenty years back. I never knew him, he was after my time in the east. Is he still living?"
    "Bertrand de Clary," said Hugh promptly, and looked up at his friend with quickening interest. "What of him? He died years back, ten or more it must be. His son holds the honour now. I've had no dealings with them, Hales is the only manor they hold in this shire, the caput and most of their lands are in Staffordshire. Why, what's put de Clary in your mind?"
    "Why, Haluin has. He was in their service before he took the cowl. It seems he feels he has left unpaid some debt he still owes in that direction. It came to mind when he made what he took to be his deathbed confession. In something he feels he offended, and has it on his conscience still."
    That was all that could be told, even to Hugh, the confessional being sacred, and if nothing more was offered, Hugh would ask for nothing more, however he might speculate on what had not been said.
    "He's set on making the journey to set the account straight, when he's fit to undertake it. I was wondering... If this Bertrand's widow is no longer in the land of the living, either, as well Haluin should know it at once, and put it out of his mind."
    Hugh was eyeing his friend with steady interest and a tolerant smile. "And you want him to have nothing to trouble about, body or mind, but getting back into the way of living as soon as may be. I'm no help, Cadfael. The widow's living still. She's there at Hales, she paid her dues last Michaelmas. Her son's married to a Staffordshire wife, and has a young son to succeed him, and from all accounts his mother is not of a nature to share another woman's household without meddling. Hales is her favourite home, she keeps there from choice and leaves her son to rule his own roost, while she makes sure of ruling hers. No doubt it suits them both very well. I should not be even so well informed," he said by way of explanation, "if we had not ridden some miles of the way from Winchester with a company of de Clary's men, dispersing from the siege of Oxford. The man himself I never saw, he was still delayed at court when we left. He'll be on his way home by now, unless Stephen keeps him for whatever move he has next in mind."
    Cadfael received this news philosophically but without pleasure. So she was still living, this woman who had sought to help