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done to restore our dwelling, and we have need of every hand that can be
brought to our aid. I had hoped to take your son back with me, but it seems I
may no longer call him brother. Nevertheless, be sure both he and you will be
in my prayers.”
    “I
will remember Ramsey,” said Donata, “in mine. But if the house of Blount has
denied you a brother, we may still be of help in other ways.”
    “We
are seeking the charity of all good men,” agreed Herluin fervently, “in
whatever form. Our house is destitute, they left us nothing but the fabric of
the walls, and that defaced, and stripped of all that could be carted away.”
    “I
have promised,” said Sulien, “to return to Ramsey and work there with my hands
for one month, when the time is right.” He had never rid himself completely of
a feeling of guilt for abandoning a vocation he had been foolish and mistaken
ever to undertake. He would be glad to pay his ransom with hard labour, and
free his conscience before he took a bride. And Pernel Otmere would approve
him, and give him leave to go.
    Herluin
thanked him for the offer, but with no very great enthusiasm, perhaps doubtful
how much work Ramsey was likely to get out of this recusant youth.
    “I
will also speak to my brother,” Sulien pursued earnestly, “and see what more we
may be able to do. They are cutting coppice-wood, there will be older stands
well seasoned. And they are taking out some wellgrown trees from the woodland.
I will ask him for a load of timber for your rebuilding, and I think he will
let me have it. I am asking no other portion before I go into the king’s
service at Shrewsbury. If the abbey can supply a cart to transport it, or one
can be hired? Eudo’s carts cannot be spared for so long.”
    This
practical offer Herluin received with more warmth. He was still resentful,
Cadfael thought, of his failure to overwhelm all argument and take the
backslider home with him, not for the promised month, but for life. Not that
Sulien himself was of such great value, but Herluin was not accustomed to being
so stoutly resisted. All barricades should have fallen like the walls of
Jericho at the blast of his trumpet.
    Still,
he had extracted all he could, and prepared to take his leave. Tutilo, all
attentive ears and modestly lowered eyes in his corner, opened the chest
quietly, and laid away the psaltery he had been clasping to his heart. The very
gentleness with which he laid it within and slowly closed the lid over it
brought a small, thoughtful twist to Donata’s ashen mouth.
    “I
have a favour to ask,” she said, “if you will hear it. Your songbird here has
given me delight and ease. If I am sometimes sleepless and in pain, will you
lend me that consolation for an hour, while you remain in Shrewsbury? I will
not send unless I need him. Will you let him come?”
    If
Herluin was taken aback at such a request, he was nevertheless shrewdly aware
that she had him at a disadvantage, though in all probability, thought Cadfael,
interested, he was hoping that she was less aware of it. In which hope he was
certainly deluded. She knew very well he could hardly refuse her. To send a
susceptible novice to provide music for a woman, and a woman in her bed, at
that, was unthinkable, even scandalous. Except that this woman was now so
closely acquainted with death that the subtle creaking of the opening door was
present in her voice, and the transparent pallor of the bodyless soul in her
face. She was no longer responsive to the proprieties of this world, nor afraid
of the dread uncertainties of the next.
    “Music
medicines me to peace,” she said, and waited patiently for his submission. And
the boy in the corner stood mute and passive, but beneath the long, lowered
lashes the amber-gold eyes glowed, pleased, serious and wary.
    “If you send for
him in extreme need,” said Herluin at last, choosing his words with care, “how
can our Order reject such