Hermit of Eyton Forest by Ellis Peters Read Free Book Online Page A

searchingly than ever. “I have heard with much distress,” said the proxy
hermit gravely, “both from the steward of Eaton and the forester of Eyton, of
the misfortunes suddenly troubling the woodland. I have prayed and meditated,
and greatly dread that these are but the warnings of worse to come, unless some
false balance or jarring discord between right and wrong can be amended. I know
of no such offence hanging over us, unless it be the denial of right to Dame
Dionisia Ludel, in witholding her grandchild from her. The father’s wish must
indeed be regarded, but the grief of the widow for her young cannot be put away
out of mind, and she bereaved and alone. I pray you, my lord abbot, for the
love of God, consider whether what you do is well done, for I feel the shadow
of evil heavy over us all.”
    All
this the surprising young man delivered in the sombre and weighty voice which
was not his own, and undeniably the trick was impressive, and caused some of
the more superstitious young brothers to shift and gape and mutter in awed
concern. And having ended his recital, the messenger again raised his amber
eyes and smiled, as if the purport of his embassage concerned him not at all.
Abbot Radulfus sat in silence for a long moment, closely eyeing the young man,
who gazed back at him unwinking and serene, satisfied at having completed his
errand.
    “Your
master’s own words?”
    “Every
one, my lord, just as he taught them to me.”
    “And
he did not commission you to argue further in the matter on his behalf? You do
not want to add anything?”
    The
eyes opened still wider in astonishment. “I, my lord? How could I? I only run
his errands.”
    Prior
Robert said superciliously into the abbot’s ear: “It is not unknown for an
anchorite to give shelter and employment to a simpleton. It is an act of
charity. This is clearly one such.” His voice was low, but not low enough to
escape ears as sharp, and almost as pointed, as those of a fox, for the boy
Hyacinth gleamed, and flashed a crooked smile. Cadfael, who had also caught the
drift of this comment, doubted very much whether the abbot would agree with it.
There seemed to him to be a very sharp intelligence behind the brown faun’s
face, even if it suited him to play the fool with it. “Well,” said Radulfus,
“you may go back to your master, Hyacinth, and carry him my thanks for his
concern and care, and for his prayers, which I hope he will continue on behalf
of us all. Say that I have considered and do consider every side of Dame
Dionisia’s complaint against me, and have done and will continue to do what I
see to be right. And for the natural misfortunes that give him so much anxiety,
mere men cannot control or command them, though faith may overcome them. What
we cannot change we must abide. That is all.” Without another word the boy made
him a deep and graceful obeisance, turned, and walked without haste from the
chapterhouse, lean and light-footed, and moving with a cat’s almost insolent
elegance.
    In
the great court, almost empty at this hour when all the brothers were at
chapter, the visitor was in no hurry to set out back to his master, but
lingered to look about him curiously, from the abbot’s lodging in its small
rose garden to the guest halls and the infirmary, and so round the circle of
buildings to the gatehouse and the long expanse of the south range of the
cloister. Richard, who had been lying in wait for him for some minutes, emerged
confidently from the arched southern doorway, and advanced into the stranger’s
path. Since the intent was clearly to halt him, Hyacinth obligingly halted,
looking down with interest at the solemn, freckled face that studied him just
as ardently. “Good morrow, young sir!” he said civilly. “And what might you
want with me?”
    “I
know who you are,” said Richard. “You are the serving-man the hermit brought
with him. I heard you say you came with