on a sum willed jointly for that purpose and to provide lights for the altar ofthe Lady Chapel, which was Brother Maurice’s province. The precentoracknowledged the gift of a new setting for the “Sanctus,” donated by thecomposer’s patron, but by the dubious enthusiasm with which he welcomed sogenerous a gift, he did not think highly of its merits, and it wasunlikely to be heard often. Brother Paul, master of the novices, had acomplaint against one of his pupils, suspected of levity beyond what waspermitted to youth and inexperience, in that the youngster had been heardsinging in the cloisters, while he was employed in copying a prayer of St.Augustine, a secular song of scandalous import, purporting to be the lament ofa Christian pilgrim imprisoned by the Saracens, and comforting himself byhugging to his breast the chemise given him at parting by his lover.

Brother Cadfael’s mind jerked him back from incipient slumber to recogniseand remember the song, beautiful and poignant. He had been in that Crusade, heknew the land, the Saracens, the haunting light and darkness of such a prisonand such a pain. He saw Brother Jerome devoutly close his eyes and sufferconvulsions of distress at the mention of a woman’s most intimate garment.Perhaps because he had never been near enough to it to touch, thought Cadfael,still disposed to be charitable. Consternation quivered through several of theold, innocent, lifelong brothers, to whom half the creation was a closed andforbidden book. Cadfael made an effort, unaccustomed at chapter, and askedmildly what defence the youth had made.

“He said,” Brother Paul replied fairly, “that he learned the song from hisgrandfather, who fought for the Cross at the taking of Jerusalem, and he foundthe tune so beautiful that it seemed to him holy. For the pilgrim who sang wasnot a monastic or a soldier, but a humble person who made the long journey outof love.”

“A proper and sanctified love,” pointed out Brother Cadfael, using words not