The Devils Novice Read Online Free PDF Page A

and get them and
yourself out of here, and out of my light, if you can do nothing better to
help. Can you not see the lad’s done no more than knock his few wits out of his
head against the bole, and skinned his ribs on the sickle? If he does bleed
like a stuck pig, he’s well alive, and will be.”
    And
indeed, the victim proved it by opening one dazed eye, staring round him as if
in search of the enemy who had done this to him, and becoming voluble in
complaint of his injuries. The relieved circle closed round him, offering aid,
and Meriet was left to gather what he had spilled, in stiff obedience, still
without word or sound. The frozen mask was very slow to melt, the green eyes
were veiled before ever the light revived behind them.
    The
sufferer’s wound proved to be, as Cadfael had said, a messy but shallow graze,
soon staunched and bound close with a shirt sacrificed by one of the novices,
and the stout linen band from the repaired handle of one of the fruit-baskets.
His knock on the head had raised a bump and given him a headache, but no worse
than that. He was despatched back to the abbey as soon as he felt inclined to
rise and test his legs, in the company of two of his fellows big enough and
brawny enough to make a chair for him with their interlaced hands and wrists if
he foundered. Nothing was left of the incident but the trampling of many feet
about the patch of drying blood in the grass, and the sickle which a frightened
boy came timidly to reclaim. He hovered until he could approach Cadfael alone,
and was cheered and reassured at being told there was no great harm done, and
no blame being urged against his father for an unfortunate oversight. Accidents
will happen, even without the assistance of forgetful goat-keepers and clumsy
and overweight boys.
    As
soon as everyone else was off his hands, Cadfael looked round for the one
remaining problem. And there he was, one black-habited figure among the rest,
working away steadily; just like the others, except that he kept his face averted,
and while all the rest were talking shrilly about what had happened, the
subsiding excitement setting them twittering like starlings, he said never a
word. A certain rigour in his movements, as if a child’s wooden doll had come
to life; and always the high shoulder turned if anyone came near. He did not
want to be observed; not, at least, until he had recovered the mastery of his
own face.
    They
carried their harvest home, to be laid out in trays in the lofts of the great
barn in the grange court, for these later apples would keep until Christmas. On
the way back, in good time for Vespers, Cadfael drew alongside Meriet, and kept
pace with him in placid silence most of the way. He was adept at studying
people while seeming to have no interest in them beyond a serene acceptance
that they were in the same world with him.
    “Much
ado, back there,” said Cadfael, essaying a kind of apology, which might have
the merit of being surprising, “over a few inches of skin. I spoke you rough,
brother, in haste. Bear with me! He might as easily have been what you thought
him. I had that vision before me as clear as you had. Now we can both breathe
the freer.”
    The
head bent away from him turned ever so swiftly and warily to stare along a
straight shoulder. The flare of the green-gold eyes was like very brief
lightning, sharply snuffed out. A soft, startled voice said: “Yes, thank God!
And thank you, brother!” Cadfael thought the “brother” was a dutiful but
belated afterthought, but valued it none the less. “I was small use, you were
right. I… am not accustomed…” said Meriet lamely.
    “No,
lad, why should you be? I’m well past double your age, and came late to the
cowl, not like you. I have seen death in many shapes, I’ve been soldier and
sailor in my time; in the east, in the Crusade, and for ten years after
Jerusalem fell. I’ve seen men killed in battle. Come