“Have you been up there?” asked Hugh curiously.

“I did my stint yesterday, before the light began to fail.Short days are no help, but another week should see itfinished.”

Hugh narrowed his eyes against a sudden brief lance of sunlightthat reflected back dazzlingly from the crystalline whiteness.“Who are those two up there now? Is that Brother Urien? Thedark fellow? Who’s the other one?”

“Brother Haluin.” The thin, alert figure was all butobscured by the jut of the scaffolding, but Cadfael had seen thepair climb the ladders barely an hour earlier.

“What, Anselm’s best illuminator? How comes it youallow such abuse of an artist? He’ll ruin his hands in thisbitter cold. Small chance of him handling a fine brush for the nextweek or two, after grappling with slates.”

“Anselm would have begged him off,” Cadfaeladmitted, “but Haluin would have none of it. No one wouldhave grudged him the mercy, seeing how valuable his work is, but ifthere’s a hair shirt anywhere within reach Haluin will claimit and wear it. A lifelong penitent, that lad, God knows for whatimagined sins, for I never knew him so much as break a rule, sincehe entered as a novice, and seeing he was no more than eighteenwhen he took his first vows, I doubt if he’d had time to dothe world much harm up to then. But there are some born to dopenance by nature. Maybe they, lift the load for some of us whotake it quite comfortably that we’re humankind, and notangels. If the overflow from Haluin’s penitence and pietywashes off a few of my shortcomings, may it redound to him forcredit in the accounting. And I shan’t complain.”