Brother Cadfael 03: Monk's Hood by Ellis Peters Read Free Book Online Page B

help for this," he said sympathetically. "We may do nothing now without authority, there's a death to account for. But no need to stand here and add to the distress. Come away and sit down quietly. If there's wine or ale in that pitcher, child, get your mistress a drink, and do as much for yourself, and sit down and take what comfort you can. The abbey has taken you in, and will stand by you now, to the best it may."
    In dazed silence they did as he bade. Only Aelfric looked helplessly round at the debris of broken dishes and the littered table, and mindful of his usual menial role, perhaps, asked quaveringly: "Should I not clear this disorder away?"
    "No, touch nothing yet. Sit down and be as easy as you can, lad. The sheriff's officer must see what's to be seen, before we remedy any part of it."
    He left them for a moment, and went back into the bed-chamber, closing the door between. The curious, aromatic smell was almost imperceptible now, overborne by the enclosed stench of vomit, but he leaned down to the dead man's drawn-back lips, and caught the hint of it again, and more strongly. Cadfael's nose might be blunt, battered and brown to view, but it was sharp and accurate in performance as a hart's.
    There was nothing more in this death-chamber to tell him anything. He went back to his forlorn company in the next room. The widow was sitting with hands wrung tightly together in her lap, shaking her head still in disbelief, and murmuring to herself over and over. "But how could it happen? How could it happen?" The girl, tearless throughout, and now jealously protective, sat with an arm about her mistress's shoulders; clearly there was more than a servant's affection there. The two young men shifted glumly and uneasily from place to place, unable to keep still. Cadfael stood back from them in the shadows, and ran a shrewd eye over the laden table. Three places laid, three beakers, one of them, in the master's place where a chair replaced the backless benches, overturned in a pool of ale, probably when Bonel suffered the first throes and blundered up from his seat. The large dish that had held the main meal was there in the centre, the congealing remains still in it. The food on one trencher was hardly touched, on the others it had been finished decently. Five people - no, apparently six - had eaten of that dish, and all but one were whole and unharmed. There was also the small bowl which he recognised as one of Abbot Heribert's, the same he had seen on Aelfric's tray as he passed through the court. Only the smallest traces of sauce remained in it; Prior Robert's gift to the invalid had clearly been much appreciated.
    "None of you but Master Bonel took any of this dish?" asked Cadfael, bending to sniff at the rim carefully and long.
    "No," said the widow tremulously. "It was sent as a special favour to my husband - a kind attention."
    And he had eaten it all. With dire results.
    "And you three - Meurig, Aelfric - and you, child, I don't yet know your name ..."
    "It's Aldith," said the girl.
    "Aldith! And you three ate in the kitchen?"
    "Yes. I had to keep the extra dish hot there until the other was eaten, and to see to the serving. And Aelfric always eats there. And Meurig, when he visits ..." She paused for only a second, a faint flush mantling in her cheeks: " ... he keeps me company."
    So that was the way the wind blew. Well, no wonder, she was indeed a very pretty creature.
    Cadfael went into the kitchen. She had her pots and pans in neat order and well polished, she was handy and able as well as pretty. The brazier had an iron frame built high on two sides, to support an iron hob above the heat, and there, no doubt, the little bowl had rested until Bonel was ready for it. Two benches were ranged against the wall, out of the way, but close to the warmth. Three wooden platters, all used, lay on the shelf under the open window.
    In the room at his back the silence was oppressive and fearful, heavy with foreboding. Cadfael