Brother Cadfael 02: One Corpse Too Many

tinder for the spark he struck. When his candle was burning steadily he ground it into place on the flickering chaff, quenching the fire that might have blown and spread, and anchoring his light on a safe candlestick, as the wax first softened and then congealed again. 'Now let's look at you!'
    The young man lay back gratefully and heaved a huge sigh, meekly abandoning the responsibility for himself. Out of a soiled and weary face, eyes irrepressibly lively gazed up at them, of some light, bright colour not then identifiable. He had a large, generous mouth, drawn with exhaustion but wryly smiling, and the tangle of hair matted and stained from the river would be as fair as corn-stalks when it was clean. 'One of them ripped your shoulder for you, I see,' said Cadfael, hands busy unfastening and drawing off the dark cotte encrusted down one sleeve with dried blood. 'Now the shirt - you'll be needing new clothes, my friend, before you leave this hostelry.'
    'I'll have trouble paying my shot,' said the boy, valiantly grinning, and ended the grin with a sharp indrawn breath as the sleeve was detached painfully from his wound.
    'Our charges are low. For a straight story you can buy such hospitality as we're offering. Godric, lad, I need water, and river water's better than none. See if you can find anything in this place to carry it in.'
    She found the sound half of a large pitcher among the debris under the wheel, left by some customer after its handle and lip had got broken, scrubbed it out industriously with the skirt of her cotte, and went obediently to bring water, he hoped safely. The flow of the river here would be fresher than the leat, and occupy her longer on the journey, while Cadfael undid the boy's belt, and stripped off his shoes and hose, shaking out the blanket to spread over his nakedness. There was a long but not deep gash, he judged from a sword-cut, down the right thigh, a variety of bruises showing bluish on his fair skin, and most strangely, a thin, broken graze on the left side of his neck, and another curiously like it on the outer side of his right wrist. More healed, dark lines, these, older by a day or two than his wounds. 'No question,' mused Cadfael aloud, 'but you've been living an interesting life lately.'
    'Lucky to keep it,' murmured the boy, half-asleep in his new ease.
    'Who was hunting you?'
    'The king's men - who else?'
    'And still will be?'
    'Surely. But in a few days I'll be fit to relieve you of the burden of me ...'
    'Never mind that now. Turn a little to me - so! Let's get this thigh bound up, it's clean enough, it's knitting already. This will sting.' It did, the youth stiffened and gasped a little, but made no complaint. Cadfael had the wound bound and under the blanket by the time Godith came with the pitcher of water. For want of a handle she had to use two hands to carry it.
    'Now we'll see to this shoulder. This is where you lost so much blood. An arrow did this!' It was an oblique cut sliced through the outer part of his left arm just below the shoulder, bone-deep, leaving an ugly flap of flesh gaping. Cadfael began to sponge away the encrustations of blood from it, and press it firmly together beneath a pad of linen soaked in one of his herbal salves. 'This will need help to knit clean,' he said, busy rolling his bandage tightly round the arm. 'There, now you should eat, but not too much, you're over-weary to make the best use of it. Here's meat and cheese and bread, and keep some by you for morning, you may well be ravenous when you wake.'
    'If there's water left,' besought the young man meekly, 'I should like to wash my hands and face. I'm foul!'
    Godith kneeled beside him, moistened a piece of linen in the pitcher, and instead of putting it into his hand, very earnestly and thoroughly did it for him, putting back the matted hair from his forehead, which was wide and candid, even teasing out some of the knots with solicitous fingers. After the first surprise he lay quietly and submissively under her ministering touch, but his eyes, cleansed of the soiled shadows, watched her face as she bent over him, and grew larger and larger in respectful wonder. And all this while she had hardly said a word.
    The young man was almost too worn out to eat at all, and flagged very soon. He lay for a few moments with lids drooping, peering at his rescuers in silent thought. Then he said, his tongue stumbling sleepily: 'I owe you a name, after all you've done for me...'
    'Tomorrow,' said