When he could speak again, Wulfhere answered the man, still smiling.
"Aye, man, I saw him. And he was wondrous like Heregar, our master, here."
And at that the collier stared at me, and then said: "There be painted
saints in our church. But they be not like mortal men, being no wise so
well-favoured as the master."
And that set Wulfhere laughing again, for the good monks who paint these
things are seldom good limners, but make up for bad drawing by bright
colour. So that one may only know saint from fiend by the gold, or the
want of it, round his head.
Then fell I to thinking again about myself, and what it takes to make
man a saint or a fiend. And that thought was a long thought.
Now were we come across Parret, and began our journey into the fens. And
presently we must ride in single file along a narrow pathway which I
could barely trace, and indeed in places could not make out at all. And
here the collier led, going warily, then came Wulfhere, and then
Alswythe, with myself next behind her to help if need were. After us the
maidens, and then the rest.
So we were in safety, for half a mile of this ground was safer than a
wall behind us. We went silently for a little while, save for a few
words of caution here and there.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152