Cadfael 07 - The Sanctuary Sparrow by Ellis Peters

Author:Ellis Peters
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-29T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Wednesday

HUGH SOUGHT OUT CADFAEL AFTER CHAPTER the next morning for a brief conference in his workshop in the herbarium.

“They’re all in a tale,” said Hugh, leaning back with a cup of Cadfael’s latest-broached wine under the rustling bunches of last year’s harvest of herbs. “All insistent that this death must be linked to what happened at the young fellow’s wedding feast. But since they’re all of them obsessed with money, their money—except, perhaps, the daughter, who curls her lip very expressively but says little, and certainly nothing against her kin—they can think of nothing but their grievance and every other man must be as intent on it as they are. Yet there’s profit and profit, and this locksmith’s business does very nicely for itself, and now there’s no kith nor kin to take it over, and it seems to be common knowledge the man had commended his journeyman to take the shop over after him. This young Boneth has been doing most of the work now above two years, he deserves he should get the credit. As right and virtuous a young man as ever I saw, to all appearances, but who’s to be sure he didn’t get tired of waiting? And we’d best bear in mind another truth—it was Baldwin Peche made the lock and keys for that strong-box of Aurifaber’s.”

“There’s a boy runs the errands and sleeps there in the shop,” said Cadfael. “Has he ought to say?”

“The dark boy, the simpleton? I wouldn’t say his memory goes back farther than a day or so, but he’s positive his master did not come back to his shop after he looked in at mid-morning, the day before he was fished out of the Severn. They were used to his absences by day, but the boy was anxious when there was no return at twilight. He didn’t sleep. I would take his word for it there was no disturbance, no prowling about that burgage during the night. Nor are we the nearer knowing just when the man died, though the night would seem to be when he was set adrift, and the boat, too. There was no overturned coracle sighted down the Severn during the day—either day.”

“You’ll be going back there, I suppose,” said Cadfael. There had been very little time the previous day for hunting out all the neighbours to testify. “I’ve an errand there myself to the old dame tomorrow, but no occasion to go that way today. Give an eye for me to the little Welsh girl, will you, see in what spirits she is, and whether they’re being rough or smooth with her.”

Hugh cocked a smiling eye at him. “Your countrywoman, is she? To judge by the way I heard her singing away about her pot-scouring, last night, she’s in good enough heart.”

“Singing, was she?” That would come as very welcome news to that draggled sparrow in his sanctuary cage here. Evidently no hardship more than normal had fallen upon Rannilt for her day of freedom.

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