“And Ranulf is to be placated until his fellow-earl hasbeen dealt with.” Cadfael rubbed dubiously at his blunt brownnose, and thought that over for a moment in silence. “Thatseems to me more like the bishop of Winchester’s way ofthinking than King Stephen’s,” he said warily.

“So it may be. And perhaps that’s why the king isusing one of Canterbury’s household for this errand, and notWinchester’s. Who’s to suspect that any motion ofHenry’s mind could be lurking behind ArchbishopTheobald’s hand? There isn’t a man in the policies ofking or empress who doesn’t know how little love’s lostbetween the two.”

Cadfael could not well deny the truth of that. The enmity datedback five years, to the time when the archbishopric of Canterburyhad been vacant, after William of Corbeil’s death, and KingStephen’s younger brother, Henry, had cherished confidentpretensions to the office, which he certainly regarded as no morethan his due. His disappointment was acute when Pope Innocent gavethe appointment instead to Theobald of Bec, and Henry made hisdispleasure so clear and the influence he could bring to bear soobvious that Innocent, either in a genuine wish to recognize hisundoubted ability or in pure exasperation and malice, had givenhim, by way of consolation, the papal legateship in England, thusmaking him in fact superior to the archbishop, a measure hardlycalculated to endear either of them to the other. Five years ofdignified but fierce contention had banked the fires. No, nosuspect earl approached by an intimate of Theobald’s waslikely to look behind the proposition for any trace of Henry ofWinchester’s devious manipulations.

“Well,” allowed Cadfael cautiously, “it maysuit Ranulf to be civil, seeing his hands are full with the Welshof Gwynedd. Though what Stephen can offer him by way of help ishard to see.”