“Or God’s?” said the abbot coldly. “Go hence in peace, before his boltstrike you.”

They went, shadows edging backwards into shadow, through the open west doorand out into the night, but always with their faces turned towards themiserable bundle prostrate clutching the altar-cloth. Mob madness is not soeasily subdued, and even if their grievance proved less than justified, it wasreal enough to them. Murder and robbery were mortal crimes. No, they would notall go away. They would set a watch on the parish door and the gatehouse, witha rope ready.

“Brother Prior,” said Radulfus, running an eye over his shaken flock, “andBrother Precentor, will you again begin Lauds? Let the office proceed, and thebrothers return to their beds according to the order. The affairs of menrequire our attention, but the affairs of God may not be subordinated.” Helooked down at the motionless fugitive, too tensely still not to be aware ofeverything that passed above him, and again looked up to catch BrotherCadfael’s concerned and thoughtful eye. “We two, I think, are enough to takewhat confession this guest of ours wills to make, and tend his needs. They aregone,” said the abbot dispassionately to the prone figure at his feet. “You mayget up.”

The thin body stirred uneasily, keeping one hand firmly on the fringe of thealtar-cloth. He moved as if every flinching movement hurt, as well it might,but it seemed that he had at least escaped broken bones, for he used his freearm to help him up to his knees on the steps, and raised to the light a gaunt,bruised face smeared with blood and sweat and the slime of a running nose.Before their eyes he seemed to dwindle both in years and size. They might havebeen gazing at some unlucky urchin of the Foregate who had been set upon by adozen or more of his capricious fellows for some trivial offence, and lefthowling in a ditch, but for the desperation of fear that emanated from him, andthe memory of the pack that had been beaten off from his heels just in time.