The Devils Novice Read Free Page B

Maesbury to
take charge in Shrewsbury, for his superior, Gilbert Prestcote, had departed to
join King Stephen at Westminster for his half-yearly visit at Michaelmas, to
render account of his shire and its revenues. Between the two of them they had
held the county staunch and well-defended, reasonably free from the disorders
that racked most of the country, and the abbey had good cause to be grateful to
them, for many of its sister houses along the Welsh marches had been sacked,
pillaged, evacuated, turned into fortresses for war, some more than once, and
no remedy offered. Worse than the armies of King Stephen on the one hand and
his cousin the empress on the other—and in all conscience they were bad
enough—the land was crawling with private armies, predators large and small,
devouring everything, wherever they were safe from any force of law strong
enough to contain them. In Shropshire the law had been strong enough, thus far,
and loyal enough to care for its own.
    When
he had seen his wife and baby son installed comfortably in his town house near
St. Mary’s church, and satisfied himself of the good order kept in the castle
garrison, Hugh’s first visit was always to pay his respects to the abbot. By
the same token, he never left the enclave without seeking out Brother Cadfael
in his workshop in the garden. They were old friends, closer than father and
son, having not only that easy and tolerant relationship of two generations,
but shared experiences that made of them contemporaries. They sharpened minds,
one upon the other, for the better protection of values and institutions that
needed defence with every passing day in a land so shaken and disrupted.
    Cadfael
asked after Aline, and smiled with pleasure even in speaking her name. He had
seen her won by combat, along with high office for so young a man as his
friend, and he felt almost a grandsire’s fond pride in their firstborn son, to
whom he had stood godfather at his baptism in the first days of this same year.
    “Radiant,”
said Hugh with high content, “and asking after you. When times serves I’ll make
occasion to carry you off, and you shall see for yourself how she’s blossomed.”
    “The
bud was rare enough,” said Cadfael. “And the imp Giles? Dear life, nine months
old, he’ll be quartering your floors like a hound-pup! They’re on their feet
almost before they’re out of your arms.”
    “He’s
as fast on four legs,” said Hugh proudly, “as his slave Constance is on two.
And has a grip on him like a swordsman born. But God keep that time well away
from him many years yet, his childhood will be all too short for me. And God
willing, we shall be clear of this shattered time before ever he comes to
manhood. There was a time when England enjoyed a settled rule, there must be
another such to come.”
    He
was a balanced and resilient creature, but the times cast their shadow on him
when he thought on his office and his allegiance.
    “What’s
the word from the south?” asked Cadfael, observing the momentary cloud. “It
seems Bishop Henry’s conference came to precious little in the end.”
    Henry
of Blois, bishop of Winchester and papal legate, was the king’s younger
brother, and had been his staunch adherent until Stephen had affronted,
attacked and gravely offended the church in the persons of certain of its
bishops. Where Bishop Henry’s personal allegiance now rested was matter for
some speculation, since his cousin the Empress Maud had actually arrived in
England and ensconced herself securely with her faction in the 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