Cadfael gave him no time to marvel. “I want water, clean linen, the ointmentof centaury and cleavers, and a good measure of wine. Hop to it, sharp! Betterlight the lamp in the workshop, we may need more things yet.”
Brother Oswin plucked out a candle from its socket, and departed in such agust of dutiful enthusiasm that it was a marvel his light was not blown out inthe doorway. But the night was still, and the flame recovered, streamingsmokily across the great court towards the gardens.
“Light the brazier!” called Cadfael after him, hearing his wretched charge’steeth begin to chatter. A close brush with death is apt to leave a mancollapsing like a pricked bladder, and this one had little flesh or strengthabout him to withstand the shock. Cadfael got an arm about him before he foldedlike an empty coat, and slid to the stones.
“Here, come… Let’s get you into a stall.” The weight was slight as achild’s, he hoisted it bodily, and made to withdraw round the parish altar tothe somewhat less draughty confines of the choir, but the skinny fist that hadall this time held fast to the altar-cloth would not let go. The thin bodyjerked in his arms.
“If I loose, they’ll kill me…”
“Not while I have hands or voice,” said Cadfael. “Our abbot has held hishand over you, they’ll make no further move tonight. Leave go of the cloth andcome within. There are relics enough there, trust me, holier even than this.”
The grubby fingers, with black and bitten nails, released the cloth reluctantly,the flaxen head drooped resignedly on Cadfael’s shoulder. Cadfael bore himround into the choir and laid him in the nearest and most commodious stall,which was that of Prior Robert. The usurpation was not unpleasing. The youngman was shivering violently from head to toe, but relaxed into the stall with ahuge sigh, and was still.