Shrewsbury. The monks are having a medieval blood drive by the look of it. Actually, they’re just being bled because…I don’t know, it’s Tuesday and that’s what they do? One of the monks suddenly gets up and has some sort of fit. Cadfael is summoned and holds him down, shoving a stick in between his teeth and calming him with poppy juice. Jerome thinks the guy was in the grips of some sort of religious ecstasy, while Cadfael thinks he was just weakened and loopy from blood loss. I’m surprised nobody thinks witchcraft was at work, but then, maybe they though no spell could be effective in such a holy place.