The Confession of Brother Haluin by Ellis Peters Read Free Book Online

left boot to the ground, to help hold him steady and secure on his crutches,
though never again would that foot be able to support his weight, light though
he was.
    In
one thing he was fortunate, that the winter, once that first early snowfall had
thawed and vanished, was not a hard one. There were occasional spells of frost,
but none that lasted long, and after January such snow showers as there were,
were fitful and slight, and did not lie long. When he had his balance and was
used to his new gait he could exercise his skills outdoors as well as in, and
grew expert, fearful only of the cobbles of the court when they were glazed
with frost.
    At
the beginning of March, with the days lengthening, and the first cautious and
reluctant signs of spring in the air, Brother Haluin rose in chapter, when all
the urgent business of the day was over, and meekly but resolutely made a plea
which only Abbot Radulfus and Brother Cadfael could fully understand.
    “Father,”
he said, his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on the abbot’s face, “you know that
in my trouble I conceived a desire to make a certain pilgrimage, if I should by
God’s grace be restored. Great mercy has been shown to me, and if you will give
me leave, I wish now to register my vow in heaven. I beg your sanction and the
prayers of my brothers that I may fulfill what I promise, and return in peace.”
    Radulfus
regarded the petitioner in silence for a disturbingly long time, his face
revealing neither approval nor disapproval, though the fixity of his gaze
brought a surge of blood into Haluin’s hollow cheeks.
    “Come
to me after chapter,” said the abbot then, “and I will hear what you intend,
and judge whether you are yet fit to undertake it.”
    In
the abbot’s parlor Haluin repeated his request in open terms, as to men before
whom his spirit was naked and known. Cadfael knew why he himself had been
summoned to attend. Two reasons, indeed, stood clear: he was the only other
witness of Haluin’s confession, and might therefore be admitted into his
counsels; and he could speak as to Haluin’s fitness to set out on such a
journey. He had not yet guessed at a third reason, but he was not quite easy in
his mind as he listened.
    “I
must not and will not hold you back,” said the abbot, “from what is needful for
your soul’s health. But I think you ask too soon. You cannot yet have regained
your strength. And it is not yet spring, however well we happen to have fared
these last weeks. There may still be bitter weather to come. Think how recently
you have been close to death, and spare putting yourself in such hardship until
you are fitter to bear it.”
    “Father,”
said Haluin ardently, “it is because I have been close to death that I must not
delay. How if death should reach for me again before I can expiate my sin? I
have seen how it can lay its hand on a man in a moment, in the twinkling of an
eye. I have had my warning. I must heed it. If I die in paying the penance due
from me, that I will embrace as fitting. But to die and not have made any
amend, that would be endless reproach to me. Father,” he said, burning up like
a stirred fire, “I truly loved her, I loved her according to the way of
marriage, I would have loved her lifelong. And I destroyed her. I have hidden
my sins too long. Now that I have confessed them I long to complete the
atonement.”
    “And
have you thought of the miles you must go and return? Are you in any case to
ride?”
    Haluin
shook his head vigorously at that. “Father, I have vowed already in my heart
and will repeat the vow on the altar, to go on foot to the place where she is
buried, and on foot return—on these feet that brought me to the earth and made
me to face the truth of my unshriven offenses. I can go, I have learned how the
innocent lame must go. Why should not I, who am guilty of so much, suffer the
same labors? I can endure it. Brother Cadfael