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his right was a stream crossed by a footbridge, which led out to an open space where he could see gardens, orchards, fishponds and a mill. To his left the whole area was bordered by a tall limestone cliff. Apart from the cliff, it wasn’t so different to home.
    Except that it was. Edwin stood for a moment before he worked out what it was, and then he realised it was the sound. Or rather, the lack of it: back at Conisbrough both the village and the castle wards were full of bustling, jostling, shouting noise, but here there was an eerie quiet. White-robed monks and some other men in brown were walking around and carrying out business, but they were doing it in utter silence.
    A bearded man in a brown tunic came to take their mounts, and Edwin handed him the reins. ‘A lay brother,’ whispered a voice in his ear. Edwin had no idea what that was, but he was glad he’d have Brother William by his side for a few hours at least. As they walked through the precinct the monk kept up a low-voiced commentary in his ear about what he could see, and Edwin picked up a rough idea of what was going on. It really was a bit like the castle, with the area they were passing through being like the more open and public outer ward, an area for work, while the abbey building itself, completely walled but for a few entrances, presented a closed face to the world like the inner ward, a place where only the privileged were granted admittance. The silence was already becoming oppressive, even for Edwin; he cast a glance at Martin and guessed that he would soon be itching to escape from it.
    Brother Godfrey did not lead them into the abbey but instead around the outside of it, over another footbridge and towards a separate two-storey building standing in its own small garden. Edwin gathered from Brother William that this was the abbot’s house; they entered and ascended the stairs before knocking on the door of the upper room.
    Inside were two monks in white robes: a stocky one with very wiry dark hair sticking out in all directions from around his tonsure, and another who was tall and gaunt and wearing a simple pectoral cross. The room was plain: whitewashed walls, a wooden cross, a table and chair and a few stools, a bench over to one side and an open kist in the corner which held rolled-up parchments.
    Brother Godfrey and, after a slight pause, Brother William, knelt before the tall monk and kissed the ring on the spindly fingers he held out. He didn’t smile but somehow managed to look pleased with them nonetheless.
    His voice was sonorous. ‘Brother Godfrey. Your return is welcome. How did you fare out on your own?’
    To Edwin’s surprise, Brother Godfrey began to weep, tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘I tried, Father, but it was so difficult! And I didn’t know I was to be away overnight, for which I ask your forgiveness – the lord earl said …’
    The abbot held up one hand. ‘Peace, Brother. You’re back safe now, and perhaps it’s God’s will that you shouldn’t be apart. Go now, and know that I’m pleased that you tried. Any fault lies with me.’ He watched without any expression that Edwin could discern as Brother Godfrey fled, then turned to Brother William, still kneeling. ‘And so the wanderer returns. How do you find your life with the lord earl, Brother?’
    ‘I like it well, Father.’
    ‘And you have as yet no desire to come back to us? I am in need of a travelling companion for my journey to Citeaux, for Brother Alexander was to have come with me.’ He sighed and crossed himself.
    Alexander, thought Edwin, that must the name of the murdered monk. I wonder why he was going to be the one to travel? He glanced at Brother William, who had an expression of agonised indecision on his face. As well he might – Edwin could imagine him travelling across the sea to protect the abbot and visiting marvellous places on the way. How tempted he must be.
    His voice sounded a little strangled. ‘Father … I thank you, but