The Confession of Brother Haluin Read Free

Geoffrey could
spare no more than a meager handful of knights to his wife’s aid, but he’s sent
her something it seems he can part with more willingly. Either that or, as may
very well be true, he’s taken Stephen’s measure shrewdly enough to know past
doubt what he dare wager in safety. He’s sent over their son in Robert’s care,
to see if the English will rally to him rather than to his mother. Henry
Plantagenet, nine years old— or did they say ten? No more than that! Robert
brought him to her at Wallingford. By this time I fancy the boy’s been whisked
away to Bristol or Gloucester, out of harm’s way. But if Stephen laid hold of
him, what could he do with him? As like as not, put him on board ship at his
own expense, and send him well guarded back to France.”
    “Do
you tell me so?” Cadfael’s eyes opened wide in astonishment and curiosity. “So
there’s a new star on the horizon, is there? And starting young! It seems one
soul at least has a blessed Christmas assured, with her liberty won, and her
son in her arms again. His coming will give her heart, no question. But I doubt
if he’ll do much more for her cause.”
    “Not
yet!” said Hugh, with prophetic caution. “We’ll wait and see what his mettle
is. With his mother’s stomach and Geoffrey’s wit he may give the king trouble
enough in a few years’ time. We’d best make better use of what time we have,
and see to it the boy goes back to Anjou and stays there, and best of all,
takes his mother with him. I wish,” said Hugh fervently, rising with a sigh,
“Stephen’s own son promised better, we’d have no need to fear what the
empress’s sprig may have to show.” He shook off present doubts with an
impatient twitch of his lean shoulders. “Well, I’ll be off and make ready for
the road. We’ll be away at first light.”
    Cadfael
lifted his cooling pot aside to the earth floor, and went out with his friend
through the walled stillness of the herb garden, where all his small, neat beds
slept warmly through the frosts under deep snow. As soon as they let themselves
out onto the path that skirted the frozen pools, they could see distantly,
beyond the glassy surface and the broad gardens on the northern side, the long
slope of the guest hall roof overhanging the drainage channel, the dark timber
cage of scaffolding and ladders, and the two muffled figures working on the
uncovered slates.
    “I
see you have your troubles, too,” said Hugh.
    “Who
escapes them, in winter? It’s the weight of the snow that’s shifted the slates,
broken some of them, and found a way through to douse the bishop’s chaplain in
his bed. If we left it till the thaw we’d have a flood, and far worse damage to
repair.”
    “And
your master builder reckons he can make it good, frost or no frost.” Hugh had
recognized the brawny figure halfway up the long ladder, hefting a hodful of
slates surely few of his younger laborers could have lifted. “Bitter work up
there, though,” said Hugh, eyeing the highest platform of the scaffolding,
stacked with a great pile of slates, and the two diminutive figures moving with
painful caution on the exposed roof.
    “We
take it in short spells, and there’s a fire in the warming room when we come
down. We elders are excused the service, but most of us take a turn, barring
the sick and infirm. It’s fair, but I doubt if it pleases Conradin. It irks him
having foolhardy youngsters up there, and he’d just as soon work only the ones
he’s sure of, though I will say he keeps a close watch on them. If he sees any
blanch at being up so high, he soon has them on solid earth again. We can’t all
have the head for it.”
    “Have
you been up there?” asked Hugh curiously.
    “I
did my stint yesterday, before the light began to fail. Short days are no help,
but another week should see it finished.”
    Hugh
narrowed his eyes against a sudden brief lance of sunlight that