like their fellows, for they, too, were out watching the road. Why should notthe unfortunate at least be free to stare at their luckier brethren, to envythem if they could manage no better than that, to wish them well in marriage iftheir generosity stretched so far? A shifting line of dark-gowned figures linedthe wattle fence, as animated if not as agile as their healthy fellow men. Someof them Cadfael knew, they had settled here for life, and madethe best of their cramped lives among familiar helpers. Some were new. Therewere always new ones, the wanderers who made their way the length of the landfrom lazarhouse to lazarhouse, or settled for a while in some hermitage on thecharity of a patron, before moving on to new solitudes. Some went on crutchesor leaned hard on staves, having feet maimed by the rot of disease or painfulwith ulcers. One or two pushed themselves along on little wheeled carts. Onehunched shapeless against the fence, bloated with sores and hiding a disfiguredface within his cowl. Several, though active, went with veiled faces, only theeyes uncovered.

Their numbers varied as the restless wandered on, shunning the town as theymust shun all towns, to some other hospice looking out over another landscape.By and large, the hospital here sheltered and cared for twenty to thirtyinmates at a time. The appointment of the superior rested with the abbey.Brothers and lay brothers served here at their own request. It was not unknownthat attendant should become attended, but there was never want of anothervolunteer to replace and nurse him.

Cadfael had done his year or more in this labor, and felt no recoil, andonly measured pity, respect being so much greater an encouragement and support.Moreover, he came and went here so regularly that his visits were a part of apatient and permanent routine like the services in the church. He had dressedmore and viler sores than he troubled to remember, and discovered live hearts