Brother Cadfael 11: An Excellent Mystery

him? The long ride put him to too great a strain, and he did not seek help until his wound was broken and festering, but that's over now. All's clean, wholesome and healing. You need not fear we shall let him founder like that a second time.'
    'I believe it, Brother,' said the young man earnestly. 'But I see him now for the first time after three years, and much fallen even from the man he was after he got his injuries. I knew they were grave, the doctors had him in care between life and death a long time, but when he came back to us at least he looked like the man we knew and followed. He made his plans then to come home, I know, but he had served already more years than he had promised, it was time to attend to his lands and his life here at home. I made that voyage with him, he bore it well. Now he has lost flesh, and there's a languor about him when he moves a hand. Tell me the truth of it, how bad is it with him?'
    'Where did he ever get such crippling wounds?' asked Cadfael, considering scrupulously how much he could tell, and guessing at how much this boy already knew, or at least hazarded.
    'In that last battle with Zenghi and the men of Mosul. He had Syrian doctors after the battle.'
    That might very well be why he survived so terrible a maiming, thought Cadfael, who had learned much of his own craft from both Saracen and Syrian physicians. Aloud he asked cautiously: 'You have not seen his wounds? You don't know their whole import?'
    Surprisingly, the seasoned crusader was struck silent for a moment, and a slow wave of blood crept up under his golden tan, but he did not lower his eyes, very wide and direct eyes of a profound blue. 'I never saw his body, no more than when I helped him into his harness. But I could not choose but understand what I can't claim I know. It could not be otherwise, or he would never have abandoned the girl he was betrothed to. Why should he do so? A man of his word! He had nothing left to give her but a position and a parcel of dower lands. He chose rather to give her her freedom, and the residue of himself to God.'
    'There was a girl?' said Cadfael.
    'There is a girl. And I am on my way to her now,' said Nicholas, as defiantly as if his right had been challenged. 'I carried the word to her and her father that he was gone into the monastery at Hyde Mead. Now I am going to Lai to ask for her hand myself, and he has given me his consent and blessing. She was a small child when she was affianced to him, she has never seen him since. There is no reason she should not listen to my suit, and none that her kin should reject me.'
    'None in the world!' agreed Cadfael heartily. 'Had I a daughter in such case, I would be glad to see the squire follow in his lord's steps. And if you must report to her of his well-being, you may say with truth that he is doing what he wishes, and enjoys content of mind. And for his body, it is cared for as well as may be. We shall not let him want for anything that can give him aid or comfort.'
    'But that does not answer what I need to know,' insisted the young man. 'I have promised to come back and tell him how I've fared. Three or four days, no longer, perhaps not so long. But shall I still find him then?'
    'Son,' said Cadfael patiently, 'which of us can answer that for himself or any other man? You want truth, and you deserve it. Yes, Brother Humilis is dying. He got his death-wound long ago in that last battle. Whatever has been done for him, whatever can be done, is staving off an ending. But death is not in such a hurry with him as you fear, and he is in no fear of it. You go and find your girl, and bring him back good news, and he'll be here to be glad of it.'
    'And so he will,' said Cadfael to Edmund, as they took the air in the garden together before Compline that evening, 'if that young fellow is brisk about his courting, and I fancy he's the kind to go straight for what he wants. But how much longer we can hold our ground with Humilis I dare not guess. This fashion of collapse we can prevent, but the old harm will devour him in the end. As he knows better than any.'
    'I marvel how he lived at all,' agreed Edmund, 'let alone bore the journey home, and has survived three years or more since.'
    They were private together down by the banks of the Meole Brook, or they could not have discussed the matter at all. No doubt by this hour Nicholas Harnage was well on his way to the north-east of the county, if he had not already arrived at his destination. Good