We then began shifting the fallen stones to clear a path through the breach. Thus, we had only to remove enough stones to lead the oxen out, and our aim was swiftly accomplished. Hurrying into the field, I loosed the patient beasts' hobbles and led them out while Padraig followed with the milk cows.

Rejoining Roupen on the road, I said, 'We have what we came for, we can leave now and all will be well. If we proceed any further, we may lose everything.' I looked at my fellow-conspirators. 'What is it to be?'

'If you do not free those pigs, I will,' declared Roupen firmly. 'It is not right those rogues should prosper so.'

'The pigs are nothing to us,' Padraig pointed out. 'But they are life or death for the farmer and his wife and sister. I think we should try.'

'Very well,' I said, 'we are agreed. Whatever happens, there will be no looking back in regret.' Turning to the young lord, I said, 'Lead the cattle away. We will join you on the road.'

'I am going with you,' he replied.

'Oxen are slow and easily overtaken,' I told him patiently. 'If we are followed, it would be well if you were out of sight.'

'I am going with you,' Roupen repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

Before I could object further, Padraig raised his hand. 'Let us go together. If trouble arises, we may have need of another pair of hands.'

Seeing I was outnumbered, I surrendered. Tethering the animals beside the road, we started for the mill. Coming to the edge of the yard, we halted to listen. All was quiet in the holding, save for the slow, creaking scrape of the water wheel as it turned in the stream. No light shone from inside the house. The moon was rising, casting a thin watery light over the empty yard. I could see the ox pen with the starving oxen in it, and the dark shapes of the five remaining pigs.

'I do not see any dogs,' I whispered. 'They must be inside.'

'Or sleeping,' suggested Roupen.

'Either way, we must go quietly so we do not wake them.'

We moved with all stealth across the yard. The stink of the place struck me like a slap in the face. A pile of entrails and offal marked the place where the pig had been killed, and these added their sick-sweet pungence to the heady reek. We made short work of dismantling the decrepit enclosure-indeed, we had to be careful the wall did not collapse of its own and the resulting crash wake the miller and his dogs.

When we had opened a sizeable breach, I turned to Padraig. 'If you know any runes for silencing pigs,' I whispered, 'say them now.'

To my surprise, he said, 'I have already done so.' He then instructed Roupen and me to move well away and remain still.

Then, stepping to the breached wall, the canny monk paused, pressed his hands together and bowed his head. After a moment, he crossed himself and entered the pen. He proceeded to go among the pigs, stooping over them to unbind their feet and moving on, speaking softly to them all the while. He soon had them on their feet, and then, with a gentle urging, led them out into the yard. They followed at his heels like faithful dogs.

He did not stop as he passed us, but walked briskly from the yard and out onto the road-and even then he did not stop, but continued walking back the way we had come. Casting a last glance at the millhouse to see if we had been discovered, I said to Roupen, 'We had best hurry and fetch the cattle, or Padraig and his pigs will leave us behind.'

The moon had risen higher and the road stretched out before us as a softly glowing stream, undulating its way into the hills. By the time we got the cattle moving, Padraig was far ahead. I could see him striding along, surrounded by his little band of swine trotting contentedly with him.

It seems a strange thing to say, but I have known Padraig since he came to the abbey as a stripling youth; and hardly a day has passed since our first meeting when I have not seen or spoken to him. Even so, I was always discovering new and curious things about him. His ability to amaze was, in itself, amazing.

In this respect, he was like his uncle, Abbot Emlyn who, with a word or act, regularly astonished the settlement. It was as if a spring from which one drew water every day continually revealed hidden depths. They were Celts, of course, and this accounted for part of it. The abbey and its teaching was also partly responsible -how much, I had no way of knowing. But, Gait, I was very soon to discover that the Abbey of Saint Andrew was responsible for a great deal more than the peculiarities of a few of its clerics.

Once over the first hill and out of sight of the mill, Padraig stopped and allowed us to catch him. He stood in the road, surrounded by his herd as if by an adoring congregation. 'I would have waited for you,' he said, 'but I did not know how long the rune would hold. I thought it best to keep moving until we were well away from that vile house.'

'How did you do it?' wondered Roupen. 'If they had been mice, they could not have been more quiet.'

'I told them I was taking them home,' the monk explained. 'I asked them to be quiet so that the evil men who lived in the house would not come and stop us.'

'You did well,' I told him. 'No one awoke, and not so much as a snort from a sleeping dog.'

'And yet,' said Padraig looking down the road behind us, 'you were followed.'

I turned around, expecting the worst, and saw instead the two forlorn-looking oxen ambling along behind us. I suppose they had wandered through the hole in the pen and, seeing the other cattle, had simply followed the herd. 'What should we do?' asked Roupen.

While I did not relish the possibility of being caught with them -the others were being returned to their rightful owners, after all-I could not bring myself to take them back. 'If they want to follow us, I cannot see how we can prevent them. Anyway, it would be cruelty itself to leave them in that place.'

We walked until almost sunrise, and then began looking for a place to spend the day. I had already decided that the wisest course would be to rest the following day, and travel at night. I reckoned that the miller would discover his stolen livestock missing the next morning and come looking for them. I had seen no horses at the mill, either in the fields or in the barn, but his thieving brother had horses, and if summoned, would quickly overtake us.

At the bottom of one of the next hills, I found what I was looking for: a clump of trees no great distance from the road, yet tucked around the shoulder of the hillside mostly out of sight. So, while Padraig and Roupen led the animals into the wood, I pulled off a few branches from a broom-like bush and, walking back the top of the hill, began sweeping away the animal tracks in the dust.

The sun was rising when I finished and, taking a last look behind me, I ran for the shelter of the grove. It was made up of beech trees mostly, and although the nuts were not yet ripe, we pulled down a few branches for the pigs to chew on, before settling back to rest and wait. 'We will continue on at dusk,' I said, passing the water skin to Roupen. 'We will have to take it in turns to watch the animals so they do not wander away.'

Padraig took the first watch and Roupen the second; I went to sleep and woke around midday to the sound of tapping. After a quick look around, I found Roupen sitting on a rock with a stick in his hand; he was flicking the stick against the side of the rock as he watched the swine rooting for their food. 'Where is Padraig?' I asked.

'He said he heard something, and went to look at the road,' the young lord replied with a yawn. Raising the stick, he pointed out the way.

I ran back through the wood and joined Padraig as he was leaning against a tree. 'See anything?' I asked.

'Two men on horseback passed a little while ago,' he said. I asked if it was anyone we knew. 'It is difficult to say, but I think one of them we have seen before.'