He came down to the abbey, two days later, to attend the MassAbbot Radulfus had decreed for the souls of all those dead at Lincoln, on bothparts, and for the healing of England’s raw and festering wounds. Inparticular there were prayers to be offered for the wretched citizens of thenorthern city, prey to vengeful armies and plundered of all they had, many evenof their lives, and many more fled into the wilds of the winter countryside.Shropshire stood nearer to the fighting now than it had been for three years,being neighbour to an earl of Chester elated by success and greedy for stillmore lands. Every one of Hugh’s depleted garrisons stood to arms, readyto defend its threatened security.

They were out from Mass, and Hugh had lingered in speech with the abbot inthe great court, when there was sudden bustle in the arch of the gatehouse, anda small procession entered from the Foregate. Four sturdy countrymen inhomespun came striding confidently, two with bows strung and slung ready foraction, one shouldering a billhook, and the fourth a long-handled pikel.Between them, with two of her escort on either side, rode a plump middle-agedwoman on a diminutive mule, and wearing the black habit of a Benedictine nun.The white bands of her wimple framed a rounded rosy face, well-fleshed andwell-boned, and lit by a pair of bright brown eyes. She was booted like a man,and her habit kilted for riding, but she swung it loose with one motion of abroad hand as she dismounted, and stood alert and discreet, looking calmlyabout her in search of someone in authority.

“We have a visiting sister,” said the abbot mildly, eyeing herwith interest, “but one that I do not know.”

Brother Cadfael, crossing the court without haste towards the garden and theherbarium, had also marked the sudden brisk bustle at the gate, and checked at