and vigorous minds within the mottled shells he tended. He had seen battles,too, in his time in the world, as far afield as Acre and Ascalon and Jerusalemin the first Crusade, and witnessed deaths crueller than disease, and heathen kinderthan Christians, and he knew of leprosies of the heart and ulcers of the soulworse than any of these he poulticed and lanced with his herbal medicines. Norhad he been greatly surprised when Brother Mark elected to follow in his steps.He was well aware that here was one step beyond, which Mark was predestined totake without his example. Brother Cadfael knew himself too wellever to aim at the priesthood, but he recognized a priest when he saw one.

Brother Mark had seen him approaching, and came trotting to meet him, hisplain face bright, his spiky, straw-colored hair erected round his tonsure. Hehad a scrofulous child by the hand, a skinny little boy with old, drying soresin his thin fair hair. Mark teased aside the hairs that clung to the one remainingraw spot, and beamed down fondly at his handiwork.

“I’m glad you’re come, Cadfael. I was running out of the lotion ofpellitory, and see how much good it’s done for him! The last sore almosthealed. And the swellings in his neck are better, too. There, Bran, good boy,show Brother Cadfael! He makes the medicines for us, he’s our physician. There,now, run to your mother and keep by her, or you’ll miss all the show. They’llbe coming soon.”

The child drew his hand free, and trotted away to join the sad little groupthat yet would not be sad. There was chattering there, a morsel of song, evensome laughter. Mark looked after his youngest charge, watched the ungainly,knock-kneed gait that stemmed from undernourishment, and visibly grieved. Hehad been here only a month, his skin was still tissue-thin.

“And yet he is not unhappy,” he said, marveling. “When no one is by, and hefollows me about, his tongue never stops wagging.”