Shrewsbury had furnished King Stephen with a creditable force to join hismuster for the north, where the earls of Chester and Lincoln, ambitioushalf-brothers, had flouted the king’s grace and moved to set up their ownpalatine, and with much in their favour, too. The parish part of the greatchurch was fuller than usual even at the monastic offices, with anxious wives,mothers and grandsires fervent in praying for their menfolk. Not every man whohad marched with Sheriff Gilbert Prestcote and his deputy, Hugh Beringar, wouldcome home again unscathed to Shrewsbury. Rumours flew, but news was in verypoor supply. Yet word had filtered through that Chester and Lincoln, longlurking in neutrality between rival claimants for the crown, having ambitiousplans of their own in defiance of both, had made up their minds in short order whenmenaced by King Stephen’s approach, and sent hotfoot for help from thechampions of his antagonist, the Empress Maud. Thus committing themselves forthe future, perhaps so deep that they might yet live to regret it.

Cadfael came out from Vespers gloomily doubting the force, and even thehonesty, of his own prayers, however he had laboured to give them heart. Mendrunk with ambition and power do not ground their weapons, nor stop torecognise the fellow-humanity of those they are about to slay. Not here—notyet. Stephen had gone rampaging north with his muster, a huge, gallant, simple,swayable soul roused to rage by Chester’s ungrateful treachery, and drawnafter him many, and many a wiser and better balanced man who could have donehis reasoning for him, had he taken a little more time for thought. The issuehung in the balance and the good men of Shropshire were committed with theirlord. So was Cadfael’s close friend, Hugh Beringar of Maesbury, deputysheriff of the shire, and his wife must be anxiously waiting there in the townfor news. Hugh’s son, a year old now, was Cadfael’s godson, and he