dress, her hair austerely braided, but her face was vivid and glowing as a rose, and her movements, even at her brother's pace, had a spring and grace to them that spoke of a high and ardent spirit. She was fair for a Welsh girl, her hair a coppery gold, her brows darker, arched hopefully above wide blue eyes. Mistress Weaver could not be far out in supposing that a young man who had hefted this neat little woman out of harm's way in his arms might well remember the experience with pleasure, and not be averse to repeating it. If he could take his eyes from his fellow-pilgrim long enough to attempt it!
The boy came leaning heavily on his crutches, his right leg dangling inertly, turned with the toe twisted inward, and barely brushing the ground. If he could have stood erect he would have been a hand's-breadth taller than his sister, but thus hunched he looked even shorter. Yet the young body was beautifully proportioned, Cadfael judged, watching his approach with a thoughtful eye, wide-shouldered, slim-flanked, the one good leg long, vigorous and shapely. He carried little flesh, indeed he could have done with more, but if he spent his days habitually in pain it was unlikely he had much appetite.
Cadfael's study of him had begun at the twisted foot, and travelling upward, came last to the boy's face. He was fairer than the girl, wheat-gold of hair and brows, his thin, smooth face like ivory, and the eyes that met Cadfael's were a light, brilliant grey-blue, clear as crystal between long, dark lashes. It was a very still and tranquil face, one that had learned patient endurance, and expected to have need of it lifelong. It was clear to Cadfael, in that first exchange of glances, that Rhun did not look for any miraculous deliverance, whatever Mistress Weaver's hopes might be.
"If you please," said the girl shyly, "I have brought my brother, as my aunt said I should. And his name is Rhun, and mine is Melangell."
"She has told me about you," said Cadfael, beckoning them with him towards his workshop. "A long journey you've had of it. Come within, and let's make you as easy as we may, while I take a look at this leg of yours. Was there ever an injury brought this on? A fall, or a kick from a horse? Or a bout of the bone-fever?" He settled the boy on the long bench, took the crutches from him and laid them aside, and turned him so that he could stretch out his legs at rest.
The boy, with grave eyes steady on Cadfael's face, slowly shook his head. "No such accident," he said in a man's low, clear voice. "It came. I think, slowly, but I don't remember a time before it. They say I began to falter and fall when I was three or four years old."
Melangell, hesitant in the doorway - strangely like Ciaran's attendant shadow, thought Cadfael - had her chin on her shoulder now, and turned almost hastily to say: "Rhun will tell you all his case. He'll be better private with you. I'll come back later, and wait on the seat outside there until you need me."
Rhun's light, bright eyes, transparent as sunlit ice, smiled at her warmly over Cadfael's shoulder. "Do go," he said. "So fine and sunny a day, you should make good use of it, without me dangling about you."
She gave him a long, anxious glance, but half her mind was already away; and satisfied that he was in good hands, she made her hasty reverence, and fled. They were left looking at each other, strangers still, and yet in tentative touch.
"She goes to find Matthew," said Rhun simply, confident of being understood. "He was good to her. And to me, also - once he carried me the last piece of the way to our night's lodging on his back. She likes him, and he would like her, if he could truly see her, but he seldom sees anyone but Ciaran."
This blunt simplicity might well get him the reputation of an innocent, though that would be the world's mistake. What he saw, he said - provided, Cadfael hoped, he had already taken the measure of the person to whom he spoke - and he saw more than most,
The boy came leaning heavily on his crutches, his right leg dangling inertly, turned with the toe twisted inward, and barely brushing the ground. If he could have stood erect he would have been a hand's-breadth taller than his sister, but thus hunched he looked even shorter. Yet the young body was beautifully proportioned, Cadfael judged, watching his approach with a thoughtful eye, wide-shouldered, slim-flanked, the one good leg long, vigorous and shapely. He carried little flesh, indeed he could have done with more, but if he spent his days habitually in pain it was unlikely he had much appetite.
Cadfael's study of him had begun at the twisted foot, and travelling upward, came last to the boy's face. He was fairer than the girl, wheat-gold of hair and brows, his thin, smooth face like ivory, and the eyes that met Cadfael's were a light, brilliant grey-blue, clear as crystal between long, dark lashes. It was a very still and tranquil face, one that had learned patient endurance, and expected to have need of it lifelong. It was clear to Cadfael, in that first exchange of glances, that Rhun did not look for any miraculous deliverance, whatever Mistress Weaver's hopes might be.
"If you please," said the girl shyly, "I have brought my brother, as my aunt said I should. And his name is Rhun, and mine is Melangell."
"She has told me about you," said Cadfael, beckoning them with him towards his workshop. "A long journey you've had of it. Come within, and let's make you as easy as we may, while I take a look at this leg of yours. Was there ever an injury brought this on? A fall, or a kick from a horse? Or a bout of the bone-fever?" He settled the boy on the long bench, took the crutches from him and laid them aside, and turned him so that he could stretch out his legs at rest.
The boy, with grave eyes steady on Cadfael's face, slowly shook his head. "No such accident," he said in a man's low, clear voice. "It came. I think, slowly, but I don't remember a time before it. They say I began to falter and fall when I was three or four years old."
Melangell, hesitant in the doorway - strangely like Ciaran's attendant shadow, thought Cadfael - had her chin on her shoulder now, and turned almost hastily to say: "Rhun will tell you all his case. He'll be better private with you. I'll come back later, and wait on the seat outside there until you need me."
Rhun's light, bright eyes, transparent as sunlit ice, smiled at her warmly over Cadfael's shoulder. "Do go," he said. "So fine and sunny a day, you should make good use of it, without me dangling about you."
She gave him a long, anxious glance, but half her mind was already away; and satisfied that he was in good hands, she made her hasty reverence, and fled. They were left looking at each other, strangers still, and yet in tentative touch.
"She goes to find Matthew," said Rhun simply, confident of being understood. "He was good to her. And to me, also - once he carried me the last piece of the way to our night's lodging on his back. She likes him, and he would like her, if he could truly see her, but he seldom sees anyone but Ciaran."
This blunt simplicity might well get him the reputation of an innocent, though that would be the world's mistake. What he saw, he said - provided, Cadfael hoped, he had already taken the measure of the person to whom he spoke - and he saw more than most,
Similar Books
