the enclave. And in some few days, if the roads stayed passable andthe lame horse mended, they would depart just as enigmatically,like so many who took refuge under that hospitable roof a day, aweek, and then passed, leaving nothing of themselves behind.Cadfael shook himself free of vain wondering about souls thatpassed by as strangers, and sighed, and went back into the churchto say a brief word into Saint Winifred’s ear before going tohis work in the garden.

Someone was before him in needing Saint Winifred’sattention, it seemed. Tutilo had something to ask of the saint, forhe was kneeling on the lowest step of her altar, sharply outlinedagainst the candle-light. He was so intent upon his prayer that hedid not hear Cadfael’s steps on the tiles. His face waslifted to the light, eager and vehement, and his lips were movingrapidly and silently in voluble appeal, and by his wide-open eyesand flushed cheeks with every confidence of being heard and havinghis plea granted. What Tutilo did, he did with his might. For him asimple request to heaven, through the intercession of a kindlydisposed saint, was equal to wrestling with angels, and out-arguingdoctors of divinity. And when he rose from his knees it was with anexultant spring in his step and tilt to his chin, as though he knewhe had carried his point.

When he did sense another presence, and turn to face thenewcomer, it was with the most demure and modest front, abating hisbrightness and exuberance as smoothly as he had diverted his lovesong into liturgical piety for Herluin’s benefit inDonata’s bedchamber. True, when he recognized Cadfael hisdevout gravity mellowed a little, and a subdued gleam came backcautiously into his amber eyes.

“I was praying her aid for our mission,” he said.“Today Father Herluin preaches at the High Cross in the town.If Saint Winifred lends us aid we cannot fail.”

His eyes turned again to the reliquary on the altar, andlingered lovingly, wide with wonder.