“Music medicines me to peace,” she said, and waitedpatiently for his submission. And the boy in the corner stood muteand passive, but beneath the long, lowered lashes the amber-goldeyes glowed, pleased, serious and wary.
“If you send for him in extreme need,” said Herluinat last, choosing his words with care, “how can our Orderreject such a prayer? If you call, Brother Tutilo shallcome.”
Chapter Two
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No question now how he got his name,” saidCadfael, lingering in Brother Anselm’s workshop in thecloister after High Mass next morning. “Sweet as alark.” They had just heard the lark in full song, and hadpaused in the precentor’s corner carrel to watch theworshippers disperse, the lay visitors from the guesthall amongthem. For those who sought lodging here it was politic andgraceful, if not obligatory, to attend at least the main Mass ofthe day. February was not a busy month for Brother Denis thehospitaller, but there were always a few travellers in need ofshelter.
“The lad’s immensely talented,” agreed Anselm.“A true ear and an instinct for harmony.” And he added,after a moment’s consideration: “Not a voice for choralwork, however. Too outstanding. There’s no hiding that grainamong a bushel.”
No need to stress the point, the justice of that verdict wasalready proved. Listening to that pure, piercingly sweet thread,delivered so softly, falling on the ear with such astonishment, noone could doubt it. There was no way of subduing that voice intoanonymity among the balanced polyphony of a choir. Cadfael wonderedif it might not be equally shortsighted to try and groom its ownerinto a conforming soul in a disciplined brotherhood.
“Brother Denis’s Provencal guest pricked up hisears,” remarked Anselm, “when he heard the lad. Lastnight he asked Herluin to let the boy join him at practice in thehall. There they go now. I have his rebec in for restringing. Iwill say for him, he cares for his instruments.”