“Leave fretting,” said Cadfael. “Possess your soul three days more in patience, and you’ll have brush and pen in hand again, and get back to work. And so must I to my herbs, for the medicine cupboards will be running low by this time. Lie down, lad, and get your rest. There are more miles waiting for you tomorrow.”
A soft wind from the west blew in through the open window, and Haluin lifted his head and sniffed the air like a high-bred horse scenting his stable.
“How good it is,” he said, “to be going home!”