“When I want to hear my echo,” said Brother Cadfael, “Iwill speak first. Come on, now, and get the bottom strip of ground dug, thereare kale plants waiting to go in.”

The delegation to Holywell was gone five days, and came home towards eveningin a fine shower of rain and a grand glow of grace, chanting prayers as thethree entered the courtyard. In the midst rode Brother Columbanus, erect andgraceful and jubilant, if that word could be used for one so humble in hisgladness. His face was bright and clear, his eyes full of wonder andintelligence. No man ever looked less mad, or less likely to be subject to thefalling sickness. He went straight to the church and gave thanks and praise toGod and Saint Winifred on his knees, and from the altar all three wentdutifully to report to the abbot, prior and sub-prior, in the abbot’slodging.

“Father,” said Brother Columbanus, eager and joyous, “Ihave no skill to tell what has befallen me, for I know less than these who havecared for me in my delirium. All I know is that I was taken on this journeylike a man in an ill dream, and went where I was taken, not knowing how to fendfor myself, or what I ought to do. And suddenly I was like a man awakened out ofthat nightmare to a bright morning and a world of spring, and I was standingnaked in the grass beside a well, and these good brothers were pouring waterover me that healed as it touched. I knew myself and them, and only marvelledwhere I might be, and how I came there. Which they willingly told me. And thenwe went, all, and many people of that place with us, to sing Mass in a littlechurch that stands close by the well. Now I know that I owe my recovery to theintervention of Saint Winifred, and I praise and worship her from my heart, asI do God who caused her to take pity on me. The rest these brothers willtell.”