Holy Thief
side by the river itself, the Meole Brook
driven backwards by the weight of water, and the mill pond swelled by the
pressure from both. I’d lend you some men, but we’ll need to get some of the
waterside dwellers up into the town.”
    “We
have hands enough, we can shift for ourselves,” said the abbot. “My thanks for
the warning. You think it will be a serious flood?”
    “No
knowing yet, but you’ll have time to prepare. If you mean to load that timber
from Longner this evening, better have your wagon round by the Horse Fair. The
level there is safe enough, and you can go in and out to your stable and loft
by the cemetery gates.”
    “Just
as well,” said Radulfus, “if Herluin’s men can get their load away tomorrow,
and be on their way home.” He rose to go and rally his household to the labour
pending, and Hugh, for once, made for the gatehouse without looking up Brother
Cadfael on the way. But it happened that Cadfael was rounding the hedge from
the garden in considerable haste, just in time to cross his friend’s path. The
Meole Brook was boiling back upstream, and the mill pool rising.
    “Ah!”
said Cadfael, pulling up sharply. “You’ve been before me, have you? The abbot’s
warned?”
    “He
is, and you can pause and draw breath,” said Hugh, checking in his own flight
to fling an arm about Cadfael’s shoulders. “Not that we know what we can
expect, not yet. It may be less than we fear, but better be armed. The lowest
of the town’s awash. Bring me to the gate, I’ve scarcely seen you this side
Christmas.”
    “It
won’t last long,” Cadfael assured him breathlessly. “Soon up, soon down. Two or
three days wading, longer to clean up after it, but we’ve done it all before.”
    “Better
make sure of what medicines may be wanted, and get them above-stairs in the
infirmary. Too much wading, and you’ll be in a sickbed yourself.”
    “I’ve
been putting them together already,” Cadfael assured him. “I’m off to have a
word with Edmund now. Thanks be, Aline and Giles are high and dry, up there by
Saint Mary’s. All’s well with them?”
    “Very
well, but that it’s too long since you came to see your godson.” Hugh’s horse
was hitched by the gatehouse; he reached to the bridle. “Make it soon, once
Severn’s back in its bed.”
    “I
will so. Greet her for me, and make my peace with the lad.”
    And
Hugh was in the saddle, and away along the highroad to hunt out and confer with
the provost of the Foregate; and Cadfael tucked up his habit and made for the
infirmary. There would be heavier valuables to move to higher ground later, but
his first duty was to make sure he had whatever medicaments might be needed in
some readily accessible place, clear of the waters which were slowly creeping
up from the thwarted Meole Brook one way, and the congested millpond another.
     
    High
Mass was observed as always, reverently and with out haste, that morning, but
chapter was a matter of minutes, devoted mainly to allotting all the necessary
tasks to appropriate groups of brothers, and ensuring an orderly and decorous
move. First to wrap all those valuables that might have to be carried up
staircases or lifted into lofts, and for the moment leave them, already
protected, where they were. No need to move them before the rising waters made
it essential. There were things to be lifted from the lowest points of the
enclave long before the flood could lip at the church itself.
    The
stable-yard lying at a low point of the court, they moved the horses out to the
abbey barn and loft by the Horse Fair ground, where there was fodder enough in
store without having to cart any from the lofts within the enclave, where
stocks were safe enough. Even the Severn in spring flood after heavy snows and
torrential rain had never reached the upper storey, and never would; there was
more than enough lower ground along its course into which to overflow. In

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