Brother Cadfael 10: The Pilgrim of Hate

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, having so much more need to observe and record, to fill up the hours of his day.
    "They were here?" asked Rhun, shifting obediently to allow Cadfael to strip down the long hose from his hips and his maimed leg.
    "They were here. Yes, I know."
    "I would like her to be happy."
    "She has it in her to be very happy," said Cadfael, answering in kind, almost without his will. The boy had a quality of dazzle about him that made unstudied answers natural, almost inevitable. There had been, he thought, the slightest of stresses on 'her'. Rhun had little enough expectation that he could ever be happy, but he wanted happiness for his sister. "Now pay heed," said Cadfael, bending to his own duties, "for this is important. Close your eyes, and be at ease as far as you can, and tell me where I find a spot that gives pain. First, thus at rest, is there any pain now?"
    Docilely Rhun closed his eyes and waited, breathing softly. "No, I am quite easy now."
    Good, for all his sinews lay loose and trustful, and at least in that state he felt no pain. Cadfael began to finger his way, at first very gently and soothingly, all down the thigh and calf of the helpless leg, probing and manipulating. Thus stretched out at rest, the twisted limb partially regained its proper alignment, and showed fairly formed, though much wasted by comparison with the left, and marred by the intumed toe and certain tight, bunched knots of sinew in the calf. He sought out these, and let his fingers dig deep there, wrestling with hard tissue.
    "There I feel it," said Rhun, breathing deep. "It doesn't feel like pain - yes, it hurts, but not for crying. A good hurt..."
    Brother Cadfael oiled his hands, smoothed a palm over the shrunken calf, and went to work with firm fingertips, working tendons unexercised for years, beyond that tensed touch of toe upon ground. He was gentle and slow, feeling for the hard cores of resistance. There were unnatural tensions there, that would not melt to him yet. He let his fingers work