the very charge there that you bear here, and I have heard tell of you, even as far south as my house."
His eye was roving, as he spoke, towards some of Cadfael's rarer treasures, the eastern poppies he had brought from the Holy Land and reared here with anxious care, the delicate fig that still contrived to thrive against the sheltering north wall, where the sun nursed it. Cadfael warmed to him for the quickening of his eye, and the mild greed that flushed the round, shaven face. A sturdy, stalwart man, who moved as if confident of his body, one who might prove a man of his hands if challenged. Well-weathered, too, a genuine outdoor man.
"You're more than welcome, brother," said Cadfael heartily. "You'll be here for the saint's feast? And have they found you a place in the dortoir? There are a few cells vacant, for any of our own who come, like you."
"My abbot sent me from Reading with a mission to our daughter house of Leominster," said Brother Adam, probing with an experimental toe into the rich, well-fed loam of Brother Cadfael's bed of mint, and raising an eyebrow respectfully at the quality he found. "I asked if I might prolong the errand to attend on the translation of Saint Winifred, and I was given the needful permission. It's seldom I could hope to be sent so far north, and it would be pity to miss such an opportunity."
"And they've found you a brother's bed?" Such a man, Benedictine, gardener and herbalist, could not be wasted on a bed in the guest-hall. Cadfael coveted him, marking the bright eye with which the newcomer singled out his best endeavours.
"Brother Hospitaller was so gracious. I am placed in a cell close to the novices."
"We shall be near neighbours," said Cadfael contentedly. "Now come, I'll show you whatever we have here to show, for the main garden is on the far side of the Foregate, along the bank of the river. But here I keep my own herber. And if there should be anything here that can be safely carried to Reading, you may take cuttings most gladly before you leave us."
They fell into a very pleasant and voluble discussion, perambulating all the walks of the closed garden, and comparing experiences in cultivation and use. Brother Adam of Reading had a sharp eye for rarities, and was likely to go home laden with spoils. He admired the neatness and order of Cadfael's workshop, the collection of rustling bunches of dried herbs hung from the roof-beams and under the eaves, and the array of bottles, jars and flagons along the shelves. He had hints and tips of his own to propound, too, and the amiable contest kept them happy all the afternoon. When they returned together to the great court before Vespers it was to a scene notably animated, as if the bustle of celebration was already beginning. There were horses being led down into the stableyard, and bundles being carried in at the guest-hall. A stout elderly man, well equipped for riding, paced across towards the church to pay his first respects on arrival, with a servant trotting at his heels.
Brother Paul's youngest charges, all eyes and curiosity, ringed the gatehouse to watch the early arrivals, and were shooed aside by Brother Jerome, very busy as usual with all the prior's errands. Though the boys did not go very far, and formed their ring again as soon as Jerome was out of sight. A few of the citizens of the Foregate had gathered in the street to watch, excited dogs running among their legs.
"Tomorrow," said Cadfael, eyeing the scene, "there will be many more. This is but the beginning. Now if the weather stays fair we shall have a very fine festival for our saint."
And she will understand that all is in her honour, he thought privately, even if she does lie very far from here. And who knows whether she may not pay us a visit, out of the kindness of her heart? What is distance to a saint, who can be where she wills in the twinkling of an eye?
The guest-hall filled steadily on the morrow. All day long they came, some singly, some in