“They’ve hunted you into the ground,” Cadfael allowed, settling him intoshelter, “but at least into the right earth. Abbot Radulfus won’t give you up,never think it. You can draw breath, you have a home here for some days tocome. Take heart! Nor are that pack out there so bad as you suppose, once thedrink’s out of them they’ll cool. I know them.”

“They meant to kill me,” said the youth, trembling.

No denying that. So they would have done, had they got their hands on himout of this enclave. And there was a note of simple bewilderment in the highvoice, of terror utterly at a loss, that caught Cadfael’s leaning ear. The ladwas far gone in weakness, and relief from fear, and truly it sounded as if hedid not know why he had ever been threatened. So the fox must feel, actinginnocently after his kind, and hearing the hounds give tongue.

Brother Oswin came, burdened with a scrip full of wine-flask andunguent-jar, a roll of clean linen under one arm, and a bowl of water in bothhands. His lighted candle he must have stuck to the bench in the porch, where atiny, flickering light played. He arrived abrupt, urgent and glowing, thelight-brown curls round his tonsure erected like a thorn-hedge. He laid downhis bowl, laid out his linen, and leaned eagerly to support the patient asCadfael drew him to the light.

“Be thankful for small mercies, I see no sign of broken bones in you. You’vebeen trampled and hacked, and I make no doubt you’re a lump of bruises, butthat we can deal with. Lean here your head—so! That’s a nasty welt across yourtemple and cheek. A cudgel did that. Hold still, now!”