“Goscelin,” said Alard by way of explanation, followinghis friend’s glance. “Her right-hand man while Roger wasaway.”
Her left-hand man now, by the look of it, thought Cadfael. For herleft hand and Goscelin’s right were private under the table,while she spoke winningly into her husband’s ear; and if thosetwo hands were not paddling palms at this moment Cadfael was verymuch deceived. Above and below the drapings of the board were twodifferent worlds. “I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “whatshe’s breathing into Roger’s ear now.”
What the lady was breathing into her husband’s ear was, infact: “You fret over nothing, my lord. What does it matter howstrong his proofs, if he never reaches Woodstock in time to presentthem? You know the law: if one party fails to appear, judgement isgiven for the other. The assize judges may allow more than onedefault if they please, but do you think King Henry will? Whoeverfails of keeping tryst with him will be felled on the spot. And youknow the road by which Prior Heribert must come.” Her voice wasa silken purr in his ear. “And have you not a hunting-lodge inthe forest north of Woodstock, through which that road passes?”
Roger’s hand had stiffened round the stem of his wine cup. Hewas not so drunk but he was listening intently.
“Shrewsbury to Woodstock will be a two- or three-day journey tosuch a rider. All you need do is have a watcher on the road north ofyou, to give warning. The woods are thick enough, masterless men havebeen known to haunt there. Even if he comes by daylight, your partneed never be known. Hide him but a few days, it will be long enough.Then turn him loose by night, and who’s ever to know whatfootpads held and robbed him? You need not even touch hisparchments—robbers would count them worthless. Take what commonthieves would take, and theirs will be the blame.”