storm-water down from Wales. To the left, where the highroad openedbefore him, the clustering bushes and trees rising from theriverside just touched the dusty rim of the road, before the smallhouses and yards and gardens of the Foregate began. To the rightthe mill-pool stretched away between its grassy banks, a faintbloom of lingering mist blurring its silver surface, and beyond,the wall of the abbey enclave arose, and the arch of thegatehouse.

Hugh dismounted as the porter came out to take his bridle. Hewas as well known here as any who wore the Benedictine habit andbelonged within the walls.

“If you’re wanting Brother Cadfael, my lord,”offered the porter helpfully, “he’s away to Saint Gilesto replenish their medicine cupboard. But he’s been gone anhour or so now, he left after chapter. He’ll be back soon,surely, if you’re minded to wait for him.”

“My business is with the lord abbot first,” saidHugh, acknowledging without protest the assumption that his everyvisit here must inevitably be in search of one close crony.“Though no doubt Cadfael will hear the same word afterwards,if he hasn’t heard it in advance! The winds always seem toblow news his way before they trouble about the rest ofus.”

“His duties take him forth, more than most of us ever getthe chance,” said the porter good-humouredly. “Come tothat, how do the poor afflicted souls at Saint Giles ever come tohear so much of what goes on in the wide world? For he seldom comesback without some piece of gossip that’s amazement toeverybody this end of the Foregate. Father Abbot’s down inhis own garden. He’s been closeted over accounts with thesacristan for an hour or more, but I saw Brother Benedict leave hima little while ago.” He reached a veined brown hand to caressthe horse’s neck, very respectfully, for Hugh’s big,raw-boned grey, as cross-grained as he was strong, had little butcontempt for all things human except his master, and even he wasregarded rather as an equal, to be respected but kept in his place.“There’s no news from Oxford yet?”