“It may well be,” Cadfael said, “that he couldno longer bear to stay, and look on daily at a distress he couldneither prevent nor help.”

His voice was very low, and Aline, re-entering the hall at thatmoment, did not hear the words. The very sight of her, radiantlycontent in her fulfilment, happy wife and mother, banished all suchthoughts, and caused them both to shake off in haste all trace of asolemnity that might have cast a shadow on her serenity. She cameto sit with them, her hands for once empty, for the light was toofar gone for sewing or even spinning, and the warm, soft eveningtoo beautiful to be banished by lighting candles.

“He’s fast asleep. He was nodding over his prayers.But still he could rouse enough to demand his story from Constance.He’ll have heard no more than the first words, but custom iscustom. And I want my story, too,” she said, smiling atCadfael, “before I let you leave us. What is the news withyou, there at the abbey? Since the fair I’ve got no furtherafield than Saint Mary’s for Mass. Do you find the fair asuccess this year? There were fewer Remings there, I thought, butsome excellent cloths, just the same. I bought well, some heavyWelsh woollen for winter gowns. The sheriff,” she said, andmade an impish face at Hugh, “cares nothing what he puts on,but I won’t have my husband go threadbare and cold. Will youbelieve, his best indoor gown is ten years old, and twice relined,and still he won’t part with it?”

“Old servants are the best,” said Hugh absently.“Truth to tell, it’s only habit sends me looking forit, you may clothe me new, my heart, whenever you wish. And forwhat else is new, Cadfael tells me there’s an exchange oflands agreed between Shrewsbury and Haughmond. The field they callthe Potter’s Field, by Longner, will come to the abbey. Ingood time for the ploughing, if that’s what you decide,Cadfael.”

“It may well be,” Cadfael conceded. “At leaston the upper part, well clear of the river. The lower part is goodgrazing.”