His voice was dry and calm to the point of resignation. For thepast four years there had been precious little inclination toreconciliation in England between the warring rivals for the crown,and no very considerable wisdom shown on either side. But it wasthe business of the Church to continue to strive, and if possibleto hope, even when the affairs of the land seemed to have revertedto the very same point where the civil war had begun, to repeat thewhole unprofitable cycle all over again.

“I am well aware there are matters outstandinghere,” said the abbot, “which equally require ourattention, but they must wait for my return. In particular there isthe question of a successor to Father Adam, lately vicar of thisparish of Holy Cross, whose loss we are still lamenting. Theadvowson rests with this house. Father Adam has been for many yearsa much valued associate with us here in the worship of God and thecure of souls, and his replacement is a matter for both thought andprayer. Until my return, Father Prior will direct the parishservices as he thinks fit, and all of you will be at hisbidding.”

He swept one long, dark glance round the chapter house, acceptedthe general silence as understanding and consent, and rose.

“This chapter is concluded.”

“Well, at least if he leaves tomorrow he hasgood weather for the ride,” said Hugh Beringar, looking outfrom the open door of Brother Cadfael’s workshop in the herbgarden over grass still green, and a few surviving roses, growntall and spindly by now but still budding bravely. December of thisyear of Our Lord 1141 had come in with soft-stepping care, gentlewinds and lightly veiled skies, treading on tiptoe. “Like allthose shifting souls who turned to the Empress when she was in herglory,” said Hugh, grinning, “and are now put to it tokeep well out of sight while they turn again. There must be a goodmany holding their breath and making themselves small justnow.”