“God sort all!” said Cadfael.

“Doubtless he will!” The voice with its honeyedwarmth and abrasive echo rang under the archway of the gatehouse.Brother Porter came out, smiling welcome, and a groom came runningfor the horses, sighting fraternal visitors. The great court openedserene in sunshine, crossed and re-crossed by busy, preoccupiedpeople, brothers, lay brothers, stewards, all about their normal,mastered affairs. The child oblates and schoolboys, let loose fromtheir studies, were tossing a ball, their shrill voices gay andpiercing in the still half-hour before noon. Life here made itselfheard, felt and seen, as regular as the seasons.

They halted within the gate. Cadfael held the stirrup for thestranger, though there was no need, for he lighted down asnaturally as a bird settling and folding its wings; but slowly,with languid grace, and stood to unfold a long, graceful butenfeebled body, well above six feet tall, and lance-straight as itwas lance-lean. The young one had leaped from the saddle in aninstant, and stood baulked, circling uneasily, jealous ofCadfael’s ministering hand. And still made no sound, neitherof gratitude nor protest.

“I’ll be your herald to Abbot Radulfus,” saidCadfael, “if you’ll permit. What shall I say tohim?”

“Say that Brother Humilis and Brother Fidelis, of thesometime priory of Hyde Mead, which is laid waste, ask audience andprotection of his goodness, in all submission, and in the name ofthe Rule.”

This man had surely known little in the past of humility, andlittle of submission, though he had embraced both now with a wholeheart.

“I will say so,” said Cadfael, and turned for amoment to the young brother, expecting his amen. The cowled headinclined modestly, the oval face was hidden in shadow, but therewas no voice.

“Hold my young friend excused,” said BrotherHumilis, erect by his mule’s milky head, “if he cannotspeak his greeting. Brother Fidelis is dumb.”

Chapter Two