The Leper of Saint Giles by Ellis Peters Page A

wide eyes even wider, purple as irises, and parted innocently wondering lips, and said simply: “Yes, of course, Father. Certainly of my own will. I am doing what I know it is right and good that I should do, and I do it with all my heart.”

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    SIMON AGUILON TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THE HOUR while his lord was sleeping off his dinner and his rage together, and slipped away alone and in haste through the bishop’s rear garden, down past the barns and orchards, and let himself out through the wicket in the wall, into the belt of scattered woodland that ran parallel with the Foregate. Somewhere well downstream, so the witnesses had said, Joscelin had vanished from view, and somewhere quite close to the spot where he was last seen he must have come ashore. Surely on the right bank, away from the castle. Why heave oneself ashore in the very nest of the enemy, even if there was cover to be had? There was better on the abbey shore, well below the Gate.
    They were hunting him, of course, but methodically, without haste. The first step had been to plant guards on all the roads that radiated from the town, and space roaming patrols between, to make a ring through which he could scarcely hope to break. Once that was done, they could afford to be slow and thorough in sifting all the cover within the ring. He had neither horse nor weapon, nor any means of getting either. Domville, once apprised of his flight, had had the gray horse removed from the common stable where Simon had taken him, and locked away privately, for fear his owner should venture in during the night to get possession of him and make a bid for escape. It was only a matter of time before he was re-taken.
    Simon made his way deep into the woods downstream, until he considered he must have penetrated somewhere near the place where Joscelin had come ashore. Here, well inland, the growth was thick, with plenteous underbrush, and he found two separate small streams making their way towards the river. Wet as he would already be, Joscelin could well afford to use the bed of one of these as his path, in case they brought out dogs to hunt him. Simon followed the second stream inland into deep woodland. When he halted to listen, there was no sound anywhere about him but the occasional note of a bird. He stood with pricked ears, and began to whistle a dance tune they had picked up together from Domville’s chaplain, who had a gift for music, and relished secular songs as well as the liturgy.
    Simon had made his way gradually a further quarter of a mile away from the river, still whistling his estampie at intervals, before he got a response. The thick bushes on his right rustled, a hand was put out to part them, and he caught the gleam of a wary eye peering out.
    “Joss?” he said in a whisper. Even if the hunt had not yet come this way, an inquisitive peasant gathering wood could give the alarm and spoil all. But the woodland silence hung undisturbed.
    “Simon?” He was slow to trust. “Are they making you their decoy? I never touched his damned gold.”
    “I never thought you did. Hush, keep in cover!” Simon drew nearer, to hear and be heard in whispers. “I’m here alone, I came to look for you. You can’t lie out tonight, soaked from the river. I can’t get your horse out to you yet, he’s locked away. And all the roads are barred. You’ll have to sit it out in hiding a day or so, until they lose interest and grow slack. He’ll give over wanting your blood, once tomorrow’s over.”
    The bushes shook with Joscelin’s tremor of protest and detestation, for after tomorrow all would be lost, and all won. “God witness,” he said through his teeth, “I’ll not give over thirsting for his. If they do marry her, I can still widow her.”
    “Hush, you fool, never say such things! Supposing others heard you! You’re safe enough with me, I’ll help you as best I can, but… Be still and let me think!”
    “I can shift for myself,” said