Remembering the particular gifts of Brother Oswin, Cadfael could think ofmany reasons why he should not leave his workshop for too long, but also of atleast one good reason for remaining. “I daresay another half-hour will do noharm,” he agreed. “Let us go and take our stand by this Lazarus of yours, whereI may observe him without offending.”

The old man did not stir as he heard them approaching, and they haltedsomewhat aside, not to disturb his remote contemplation. He had, thoughtCadfael, the self-sufficient tranquility of a desert hermit; as those earlyfathers had sought out their austere solitudes, so he created his about him,even among men. He towered over both of them by a head, and stood straight as alance, and almost as meager, but for the lean, wide shoulders under theshrouding cloak. Only when the sound of the approaching company blew suddenlycloser on a stirring wind, and he turned his head to look intently towards thesound, did Cadfael glimpse the face beneath the hood. The hood itself coveredthe brow, which by the form of the head should be lofty and broad, and the coarse blue cloth of the veil was drawn up to the cheekbones. Inthe slit between, only the eyes showed, but they were arresting enough, large,unblemished, of a clear, pale but brilliant blue-gray. Whatever deformities hehid, his eyes saw clearly and far, and were accustomed to looking on distances.He paid no heed to the two who stood near to him. His gaze swept beyond them,to where the approaching party showed as a shimmer of colors and a shifting oflight.

There was less ceremony here than with Huon de Domville’s retinue, and thenumbers were smaller. Nor was there a single dominant figure in the lead, but aflurry of mounted grooms as outriders, and within their circle, as thoughwithin an armed guard, three came riding abreast. On one side a dark, sinewy,