Prior Aldwyn strolled gazing around into the courtyard of Evesham Abbey. Strange to relate, since the two abbeys, his own at Winchcombe and this one stood only ten miles apart, he’d never set foot there. He had obtained permission from his stern and vigorous Norman abbot, Galandus, to embark on a much longer journey if and only if he could convince others from Evesham to join him in seclusion. The task of convincing was no easy one as his abject failure in his own monastery demonstrated. What the prior was asking of would-be companions was extreme self-denial.
True to his ideals, he relegated his thirst and tiredness to the back of his mind and hesitated only long enough to have a curious monk accost him,
“Are you lost, brother, whom is it you seek?”
The friendly tone and smile heartene
