the momentous events soon to be visited upon the abbey of SaintPeter and Saint Paul of Shrewsbury, no reference to marrying and giving inmarriage, no omens of sudden and violent death. He was expecting, rather, thatin his absence some vessel full of precious liquid would be broken, some syrupleft to boil over, some pan to burn dry, in his workshop in the herb-gardens,or else that his brazier would be fed too generously, and set light to theparcels of dried herbs rustling overhead and, in the worst case, to the wholeworkshop.

Mark had been gentle, dutiful and neat-handed. In his place Cadfael had beengiven, for his sins, the most cheerful, guileless, heedless and handless ofcherubs, eternally hopeful, never chastened, a raw novice of nineteen fixed forever at the age of a happy child of twelve. His fingers were all thumbs, buthis zest and confidence were absolute. He knew he could do all, his will beingso beneficent, and fumbled at the first balk, for ever astonished and aghast atthe results he produced. To complete the problem he presented, he was the mostgood-humored and affectionate soul in the world. Also, less fortunately, themost impervious, since hope was eternal for him. Under reproof, having broken,wrecked, mismanaged and burned, he rode the tide serenely, penitent, assured ofgrace, confident of avoiding all repetition of failure. Cadfael liked him, ashe was infuriated by him, out of all measure, and gloomily made large allowancefor the damage the lad was almost certain to do whenever left to followinstructions unsupervised. Still, he had virtues, besides his sweetness ofnature. For rough digging, the chief challenge of autumn, he had no peer; heplunged into it with the vigor others devoted to prayer, and turned the loamwith a love and fellow-feeling Cadfael could not but welcome. Only keep himfrom planting what he dug! Brother Oswin had black fingers!

So Brother Cadfael had no thought to spare for the grand wedding which was