“Ah, yes,” said Cadfael, remembering the manor of Mallilie, gifted to theabbey in return for the means of life to the giver. “So they are safely in, arethey? God give them joy of it! And you are the manservant whowill carry their meals back and forth—yes, you’ll need to find your way aboutthe place. You’ve been to the abbot’s kitchen?”

“Yes, master.”

“No man’s master,” said Cadfael mildly, “every man’s brother, if you will.And what’s your name, friend? For we shall be seeing something of each other inthe days to come, we may as well be acquainted.”

“My name is Aelfric,” said the young man. He had come forward from thedoorway, and stood looking round him with open interest. His eyes lingered withawe on the large bottle that held the oil of monk’s-hood. “Is that truly sodeadly? Even a little of it can kill a man?”

“So can many things,” said Cadfael, “used wrongly, or used in excess. Evenwine, if you take enough of it. Even wholesome food, if you devour it beyondreason. And are your household content with their dwelling?”

“It’s early yet to say,” said the young man guardedly.

What age would he be? Twenty-five years or so? Hardly more. He bristled likean urchin at a touch, alert against all the world. Unfree, thought Cadfael,sympathetic; and of quick and vulnerable mind. Servant to someone less feelingthan himself? It might well be.

“How many are you in the house?”

“My master and mistress, and I. And a maid.” A maid! No more, and his long,mobile mouth shut fast even on that.

“Well, Aelfric, you’re welcome to make your way here when you will, and whatI can supply for your lady, that I will. What is it I can send her this time?”