Sanctuary Sparrow by Ellis Peters Page B

marriage—you take my meaning?—not t’other. Oh, the old dame may dote on him, the sun shines out of his tail for her, but she keeps her hold on the purse and doles out sweets very sparingly. Not enough for the sort he fancies!”
    It occurred to Cadfael, rather belatedly, that it was hardly becoming behaviour in one of his habit to listen avidly to local scandal, but if he did nothing to encourage confidences, he certainly did not stop listening. Encouragement, in any case, was unnecessary. Peche had every intention of making the most of his probings.
    “I wouldn’t say,” he breathed into Cadfael’s ear, “but he’s had his fingers in her purse a time or two, for all her sharpness. His present fancy comes expensive, not to speak of the game there’ll be if ever her husband gets to know of their cantrips. It’s a fair guess the bride’s dowry, as much of it as he can get his hands on, will go to deck out another wench’s neck. Not that he had any objections to this match—not he, he likes the girl well enough, and he likes her money a good deal better. But he likes somebody else best of all. No names, no revenges! But you should have seen her as a guest last night! Bold as a royal whore, and the old man puffed up beside her, proud of owning the handsomest thing in the hall, and she and the bridegroom eyeing each other fit to laugh out loud at the old fool. As well I was the only one there had sharp enough eyes to see the sparks pass!”
    “As well, indeed!” said Cadfael almost absently, for he was busy reflecting how understandable it was that Daniel should view his father’s tenant with such ill-will. No need to doubt Peche’s information, really devoted pryers make sure of their facts. Doubtless, though never a word need have been said, certain quiverings of that inquisitive nose and knowing glances from those coldly merry eyes had warned Daniel, evidently not quite a fool, that his gallivantings were no secret.
    And the other, the old fool, welcome guest at the wedding—of consequence, therefore, among the merchants of Shrewsbury and with a young, bold, handsome wife… A second marriage, then, on the man’s part? The town was not so great that Cadfael had to look very far. Ailwin Corde, widowed a few years ago and married again, against his grown son’s wishes, to a fine, flaunting beauty a third his age, called Cecily…
    “I’d keep your tongue within your teeth,” he advised amiably. “Wool merchants are a power in this town, and not every husband will thank you for opening his eyes.”
    “What, I? Speak out of turn?” The merry eyes sparkled with all the cordiality of ice, and the long nose twitched. “Not I! I have a decent landlord and a snug corner, and no call to overturn what suits me well. I take my fun where I find it, Brother, but quietly and privately. No harm in what does none.”
    “None in the world,” agreed Cadfael, and took his leave peaceably, and went on towards the winding descent of the Wyle, very thoughtful, but none too sure of what he should be thinking. For what had he learned? That Daniel Aurifaber was paddling palms, and probably more, with mistress Cecily Corde, whose wool-merchant husband collected fleeces from the bordering district of Wales, and traded them into England, and therefore was often absent for some days at a time, and that the lady, however fond, was accustomed to gifts, and did not come cheaply, whereas the young man was baulked by equally parsimonious father and grandmother, and was reputed already to be filching such small sums as he could get his fingers on. And no easy matter, either! And had his father not gone to lock up at least half of the bride’s dowry out of reach? Out of reach now in good earnest—or had last night’s events snugged it away well within reach? Such things can happen in families.
    What else? That Daniel held no good opinion, reasonably enough, of the tenant who spent his leisure so inconveniently, and claimed he