Leper of Saint Giles by Ellis Peters

Author:Ellis Peters [Peters, Ellis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Herbalists, Monks, Mystery & Detective, Traditional British, Great Britain, Historical, Cadfael; Brother (Fictitious Character), Shrewsbury (England), General, Large Type Books, Fiction
ISBN: 9780786213757
Google: 1g4OAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1441751203
Goodreads: 1163521
Publisher: Chivers P.
Published: 1981-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

WHEN CADFAEL EMERGED FROM PRIME, the following morning, Prestcote was already abroad marshalling his renewed hunt on the northern side of the Foregate. This time they would make a great, slow sweep for some three miles out, so exhaustive that barely a weasel or a hare would elude their net. The sheriff was determined to fetter his quarry this time, and reasonably sure that he had not already slipped through the cordon, which had been strengthened overnight. Picard was out with all the men of his household marshalled at his back, and Canon Eudo was probably exhorting Domville’s people at the bishop’s house to the same forced service. And though some, no doubt, turned out reluctantly, nevertheless there is something infectious about the zeal of a hunt, that would have most of these beaters in full cry if ever they scented their quarry.

Not for the first time, Brother Cadfael wished heartily that he had Hugh Beringar here, to temper the chill of Prestcote’s proceedings. The deputy sheriff had room in his head and conscience for healthy doubts of his own omniscience, and was always perversely suspicious of what seemed a foregone conclusion to others. But Hugh Beringar was in the north of the shire, at his own manor of Maesbury, and certainly would not consent to move from there these coming few weeks, for his wife was near her time with their first child, and that is a peak of experience in any young man’s life. No help for it, this matter would have to be settled under Gilbert Prestcote’s direction. And at that, thought Cadfael fairly, we’re luckier than many a shire. He’s an honest, fair-minded man, if he is too urgent for quick resolutions and summary justice, and not inclined to look too far beyond the obvious. Nevertheless, show him a provable truth, and he’ll accept it. Provable truths are what we need.

Meantime, he took some care over giving Brother Oswin his tasks for the day. Only a week ago, he would have found him enough rough digging and outdoor work to keep him occupied, and prayed heartily that the great maladroit need not even set foot in the workshop. Today he handed over to him some early winter pruning, but also the tending of a batch of wine just beginning to work, and the making of an ointment for the infirmary. They had made the same ointment together once, the process fully explained as they went. Cadfael nobly refrained from repeating and underlining every stage, and left Oswin with only the most modest and trusting recapitulation.

“I leave the workshop in your hands,” he said firmly. “I place full confidence in you.”

“And God forgive me the lie,” he muttered to himself when he was out of earshot, “and turn it to truth. Or at least count it as merit to me rather than sin. If I’ve been setting your teeth on edge, Oswin, my lad, now’s your chance to spread your wings on your own. Make the

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