Ellis Peters - The Raven in the Foregate

The Raven in the Foregate

Ellis Peters

The Twelfth Chronicle of Brother Cadfael

EBook Design Group [EDG] digital edition

v2 HTML January 18, 2003

FAWCETT CREST NEW YORK

A Fawcett Crest Book Published by Ballantine Books Copyright 1986 by Ellis Peters

CONTENTS

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Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

^

Abbot Radulfus came to chapter, on this first day ofDecember, with a preoccupied and frowning face, and madeshort work of the various trivialities brought up by hisobedientiaries. Though a man of few words himself, he was disposed,as a rule, to allow plenty of scope to those who were rambling andloquacious about their requests and suggestions, but on this day,plainly, he had more urgent matters on his mind.

I must tell you, he said, when he had swept thelast trifle satisfactorily into its place, that I shall beleaving you for some days to the care of Father Prior, to whom, Iexpect and require, you shall be as obedient and helpful as you areto me. I am summoned to a council to be held at Westminster on theseventh day of this month, by the Holy Fathers legate, Henryof Blois, bishop of Winchester. I shall return as soon as I can,but in my absence I desire you will make your prayers for a spiritof wisdom and reconciliation in this meeting of prelates, for thesake of the peace of this land.

His voice was dry and calm to the point of resignation. For thepast four years there had been precious little inclination toreconciliation in England between the warring rivals for the crown,and no very considerable wisdom shown on either side. But it wasthe business of the Church to continue to strive, and if possibleto hope, even when the affairs of the land seemed to have revertedto the very same point where the civil war had begun, to repeat thewhole unprofitable cycle all over again.

I am well aware there are matters outstandinghere, said the abbot, which equally require ourattention, but they must wait for my return. In particular there isthe question of a successor to Father Adam, lately vicar of thisparish of Holy Cross, whose loss we are still lamenting. Theadvowson rests with this house. Father Adam has been for many yearsa much valued associate with us here in the worship of God and thecure of souls, and his replacement is a matter for both thought andprayer. Until my return, Father Prior will direct the parishservices as he thinks fit, and all of you will be at hisbidding.

He swept one long, dark glance round the chapter house, acceptedthe general silence as understanding and consent, and rose.

This chapter is concluded.

Well, at least if he leaves tomorrow he hasgood weather for the ride, said Hugh Beringar, looking outfrom the open door of Brother Cadfaels workshop in the herbgarden over grass still green, and a few surviving roses, growntall and spindly by now but still budding bravely. December of thisyear of Our Lord 1141 had come in with soft-stepping care, gentlewinds and lightly veiled skies, treading on tiptoe. Like allthose shifting souls who turned to the Empress when she was in herglory, said Hugh, grinning, and are now put to it tokeep well out of sight while they turn again. There must be a goodmany holding their breath and making themselves small justnow.

Bad luck for his reverence the papal legate, saidCadfael, who cannot make himself small or go unregarded,whatever he does. His turning has to be done in broad daylight,with every eye on him. And twice in one year is too much to ask ofany man.

Ah, but in the name of the Church, Cadfael, in the nameof the Church! Its not the man who turns, its therepresentative of Pope and Church, who must preserve theinfallibility of both at all costs.

Twice in one year, indeed, had Henry of Blois summoned hisbishops and abbots to a legatine council, once in Winchester on theseventh of April to justify his endorsement of the Empress Maud asruler, when she was in the ascendant and had her rival King Stephensecurely in prison in Bristol, and now at Westminster on theseventh of December to justify his swing back to Stephen, now thatthe King was free again, and the city of London had put a decisiveend to Mauds bid to establish herself in the capital, andget her hands at last on the crown.

If his head is not going round by now, it shouldbe, said Cadfael, shaking his own grizzled brown tonsure inmingled admiration and deprecation. How many spins does thismake? First he swore allegiance to the lady, when her father diedwithout a male heir, then he accepted his brother Stephensseizure of power in her absence, thirdly, when Stephens staris darkened he makes his peacea peace of sorts, at anyrate!with the lady, and justifies it by saying that Stephenhas flouted and aggrieved Holy Church Now must he turn thesame argument about, and accuse the Empress, or has he somethingnew in his scrip?

What is there new to be said? asked Hugh,shrugging. No, hell wring the last drop from hisstewardship of Holy Church, and make the best of it that every soulthere will have heard it all before, no longer ago than last April.And it will convince Stephen no more than it did Maud, buthell let it pass with only a mild snarl or two, since he canno more afford to reject the backing of Henry of Blois than couldMaud in her day. And the bishop will grit his teeth and stare hisclerics in the eyes, and swallow his gall with a brazenface.

It may well be the last time he has to turnabout-face, said Cadfael, feeding his brazier with a fewjudiciously placed turves, to keep it burning with a slow andtempered heat. She has thrown away whats likely to beher only chance.

A strange woman she had proved, King Henrys royaldaughter. Married in childhood to the Holy Roman Emperor Henry V,she had so firmly ingratiated herself with her husbandspeople in Germany that when she was recalled to England, after hisdeath, the populace had risen in consternation and grief to pleadwith her to stay. Yet here at home, when fate threw her enemy intoher hands and held the crown suspended over her head, she hadbehaved with such vengeful arrogance, and exacted such penaltiesfor past affronts, that the men of her capital city had risen justas indignantly, not to appeal to her to remain, but to drive herout and put a violent end to her hopes of ever becoming theirruler. And it was common knowledge that though she could turn evenupon her own best allies with venom, yet she could also retain thelove and loyalty of the best of the baronage. There was not a manof the first rank on Stephens side to match the quality ofher half-brother, Earl Robert of Gloucester, or her champion andreputed lover, Brian FitzCount, her easternmost paladin in hisfortress at Wallingford. But it would take more than a couple ofheroes to redeem her cause now. She had been forced to surrenderher royal prisoner in exchange for her half-brother, without whomshe could not hope to achieve anything. And here was England backto the beginning, with all to do again. For if she could not win,neither could she give up.

From here where I stand now, said Cadfael,pondering, these things seem strangely distant and unreal.If I had not been forty years in the world and among the armiesmyself, I doubt if I could believe in the times we live in but as adisturbed dream.