“Ah, yes,” said Brother Edmund, recollecting, “there was one more thing.Brother Rhys is groaning with creaks and pains in his shoulders and back. Hegets about very little now, and it does pain him, I’ve seen it make him jerkand start. You have an oil that gave him ease before.”

“I have. Wait, now, let me find a flask to fill for you.” Cadfael hoistedfrom its place on a low bench a large stone bottle, and rummaged along theshelves for a smaller one of cloudy glass. Carefully he unstoppered and poureda viscous dark oil that gave off a strong, sharp odour. He replaced the woodenstopper firmly, bedding it in with a wisp of linen, and with another torn shredscrupulously wiped the lips of both containers, and dropped the rag into thesmall brazier beside which he had a stoneware pot simmering gently. “This willanswer, all the more if you get someone with good strong fingers to work itwell into his joints. But keep it carefully, Edmund, never let it near yourlips. Wash your hands well after using it, and make sure any other who handlesit does the same. It’s good for a man’s outside, but bad indeed for his inside.And don’t use it where there’s any scratch or wound, any break in the skin,either. It’s powerful stuff.”

“So perilous? What is it made from?” asked Edmund curiously, turning thebottle in his hand to see the sluggish way the oils moved against the glass.

“The ground root of monk’s-hood, chiefly, in mustard oil and oil from flaxseeds. It’s powerfully poisonous if swallowed, a very small draught of thiscould kill, so keep it safe and remember to cleanse your hands well. But itworks wonders for creaking old joints. He’ll notice a tingling warmth when it’srubbed well in, and then the pain is dulled, and he’ll be quite easy. There, isthat all you need? I’ll come over myself presently, and do the anointing, ifyou wish? I know where to find the aches, and it needs to be worked in deep.”