At last, the tale was almost finished, and my work over. My body drenched with sweat and my face wet with tears, I eased the patient into the most comfortable position that could be managed, and spread a fresh blanket over his cleanly wrapped body. In the few moments it took me to fetch the pitcher of water, the dog was up on the bed and stretched out beside him, tail thumping gently. Her expression told me she hoped I would pretend not to notice.

“Well done; Simon,” I said, holding a cup of water for him to sip, and this time he did; he was too exhausted to protest, beyond fear. “Perhaps you can sleep now—one of us will be here if you need us. Linn!” I snapped my fingers. “Down!”

“No.” His voice was a thread of sound. “Leave her.” His hand curled into her wiry gray coat.

I moved, thinking to fetch Father Brien. I was too tired to feel hungry, but my work for that day was not over yet.

“No.”

I looked down at him.

“Stay.”

“I’m not a dog, to do your bidding,” I said. “I must eat, and so should you.”

“The tale,” he said weakly, surprising me. “Finish the tale. Did Bryn ever drink from the cup, or did he doubt himself forever?”

I sat down again slowly.

“He did,” I said, finding the will to go on from somewhere deep within me, though it was quite an effort. “It was much, much later, and it crept up on him unnoticed, for after all his adventures, and the ill that befell so many others after they tried to use the cup of Isha, what did he do but put it on a shelf at the back of his cottage, and forget about it. There it sat, with its emeralds and rubies, among the old crocks and pewterware, and not a soul noticed it for many a long day. For Bryn stayed in his cottage, beside the enchanted forest with its tangle of thorns, and grew old there; and still he guarded its one entrance, and let none pass, neither man nor beast. There were plenty of young girls that would have wooed him away, if he’d have liked, but he refused them all politely. I’m just a humble man, he’d say, not good enough for the likes of you, fine ladies. And besides, my heart is given.

“Over the years, there were plenty of chances to ride away—to a war with the soldiers, or to make a fortune with travelers, but he’d have none of it. This is my watch, he told them, and here I stay, though I die at my post. And when the three score years were up, and Bryn was an old, old man with a white beard down to his boot tops, the curse was lifted and the wall of thorns dissolved; and out came an old, old lady in a tattered white gown, with a face wrinkled like a prune. But Bryn knew her instantly for his beloved, and fell on his knees before her, giving thanks for her deliverance.