It is a blessed thing, on the whole, to live in slightly dulltimes, especially after disorder, siege and bitter contention. Butthere was still a morsel somewhere in Cadfael that itched if thehush continued too long. A little excitement, after all, need notbe mischief, and does sound a pleasant counterpoint to the constantorder, however much that may be loved and however faithfullyserved.

They were at the end of routine business, and Cadfael’sattention had wandered away from the details of thecellarer’s accounts, since he himself had no function as anobedientiary, and was content to leave such matters to those whohad. Abbot Radulfus was about to close the chapter, with a sweepingglance around him to make sure that no one else was brooding oversome demur or reservation, when the lay porter who served at thegatehouse during service or chapter put his head in at the door, ina manner which suggested he had been waiting for this very moment,just out of sight.

“Father Abbot, there is a guest here from Lichfield.Bishop de Clinton has sent him on an errand into Wales, and he askslodging here for a night or two.”

Anyone of less importance, thought Cadfael, and he would havelet it wait until we all emerged, but if the bishop is involved itmay well be serious business, and require official considerationbefore we disperse. He had good memories of Roger de Clinton, a manof decision and solid good sense, with an eye for the genuine andthe bogus in other men, and a short way with problems of doctrine.By the spark in the abbot’s eye, though his face remainedimpassive, Radulfus also recalled the bishop’s last visitwith appreciation.

“The bishop’s envoy is very welcome,” he said,“and may lodge here for as long as he wishes. Has he someimmediate request of us, before I close this chapter?”