It was more than an hour before Hugh came. By then Constance had whiskedaway the remains of Cadfael’s supper, and carried off a droopingprinceling, who could not keep his eyes open any longer for all hiscontrivances, but slept in sprawled abandon in her arms as she lifted him. Forall Cadfael’s sharp hearing, it was Aline who first pricked up her headand rose, catching the light footsteps in the doorway. Her radiant smilefaltered suddenly, for the feet trod haltingly.

“He’s hurt!”

“Stiff from a long ride,” said Cadfael quickly. “His legsserve him. Go, run, whatever’s amiss will mend.”

She ran, and Hugh entered into her arms. As soon as she had viewed him fromhead to foot, weary and weather-stained as he was, and found him whole,whatever lesser injuries he might be carrying, she became demure, brisk andcalm, and would make no extravagant show of anxiety, though she watched himevery moment from behind the fair shield of her wifely face. A small man,lightly built, not much taller than his wife, black-haired, black-browed. Hismovements lacked their usual supple ease, and no wonder after so long in thesaddle, and his grin was brief and wry as he kissed his wife, drove a fistwarmly into Cadfael’s shoulder, and dropped with a great, hoarse sigh onto the cushioned bench beside the fire, stretching out his booted feetgingerly, the right decidedly with some pain. Cadfael kneeled, and eased offthe stiff, ice-rimmed boots that dripped melting rivulets into the rushes.

“Good Christian soul!” said Hugh, leaning to clap a hand on hisfriend’s tonsure. “I could never have reached them myself. God, butI’m weary! No matter, that’s the first need met—they’rehome and so am I.”

Constance came sailing in with food and a hot posset of wine, Aline with his