And he bent his head over the instrument, and plunged like ahawk stooping, and began to play, flexed fingers dancing. The oldsoundboard seemed to swell and throb with the tension of notes, toofull to find adequate release through the fretted rose in thecentre.

Cadfael withdrew his stool a little from the bedside, to havethem both in plain view, for they made an interesting study. Theboy was undoubtedly hugely gifted. There was something almostalarming in the passion of the assault. It was as if a bird hadbeen muted for a long time, and suddenly found his muffled throatregain its eloquence.

In a little while his first hunger was slaked, and he couldsoften into moderation, and savor all the more gratefully thesweetness of this indulgence. The sparkling, whirling dancemeasure, light as thistledown for all its passion, eased into agentle air, better adapted to an instrument so soft. Even a littlemelancholy, some kind of virelai, rhythmic and rueful. Where had helearned that? Certainly not at Ramsey; Cadfael doubted if it wouldhave been welcome there.

And the Lady Donata, world-weary and closely acquainted with theironies of life and death, lay still in her pillows, never takingher eyes from the boy who had forgotten her existence. She was notthe audience to which he played, but she was the profoundintelligence that heard him. She drew him in with her great bruisedeyes, and his music she drank, and it was wine to her thirst.Crossing the half of Europe overland, long ago, Cadfael had seengentians in the grass of the mountain meadows, bluer than blue, ofthe same profound beyond-blue of her eyes. The set of her lips,wryly smiling, told a slightly different story. Tutilo was alreadycrystal to her, she knew more of him than he himself knew.

The affectionate, skeptical twist of her mouth vanished when hebegan to sing. The tune was at once simple and subtle, playing with