St. Peter's Fair by Ellis Peters Page B

sleeves of his cotte,
“will bear a hand with you in the hunt, if you’ll have me.”
    They
combed the whole length of the Foregate, Beringar, with his six men-at-arms,
Ivo Corbière, as energetic and wide-awake as at noon, and Brother Cadfael, who
had no legitimatereason to go with them at all, beyond the
pricking of his thumbs, and the manifest absurdity of going to his bed at such
an hour, when he would in any case have to rise again at midnight for Matins.
If that was excuse enough for sharing a drink with Beringar, it was excuse
enough for taking part in the hunt for Thomas of Bristol. For truly, thought
Cadfael, shaking his head over the drastic events of the evening, I shall not
be easy until I see that meaty blue-jowled face again, and hear that loud,
self-confident voice. Corbière might shrug off the merchant’s non-return as a
mere trivial departure from custom, such as every man makes now and again, and
on any other day Cadfael would have agreed with him; but too much had happened
since noon today, too many people had been trapped into outrageous and
uncharacteristic actions, too many passions had been let loose, for this to be
an ordinary day. It was even possible that someone had stepped so far aside
from his usual self as to commit deliberate violence by stealth in the night,
to avenge what had been done openly and impulsively in the day. Though God
forbid!
    They
had begun by making certain that there was still no word or sign at the jetty.
No, Thomas had neither appeared nor sent word, and Roger Dod’s forays among the
other traders along the riverside, as far as he dared go from the property he
guarded, had elicited no news of his master.
    He
was a burly, well-set-up young man of about thirty, this Roger Dod, and very
personable, if he had not been so curt and withdrawn in manner. No doubt he was
anxious, too. He answered Hugh’s questions in the fewest possible words, and gnawed
an uncertain lip at hearing that his master’s niece was now lodged in the abbey
guest-hall. He would have come with them to help in their search, but he was
responsible for his master’s belongings, and would have to be answerable for
their safety when his master returned. He stayed with the barge, and sent the
mute and sleepily resentful Gregory to lead them straight to the booth Master
Thomas had rented. Beringar’s sergeant, with three men, was left behind to work
his way gradually along the Foregate after them, questioning every waking
stallholder as he went, while the rest followed the porter to the fairground.
The great open space was by this time half-asleep, but still winking withoccasional torches and braziers, and murmuring with subdued voices.
For these three days in the year it was transformed into a tight little town,
busy and populous, to vanish again on the fourth day.
    Thomas
had chosen a large booth almost in the centre of the triangular ground. His
goods were neatly stacked within, and his watchman was awake and prowling the
ground uneasily, to welcome the arrival of authority with relief. Warm was a
leathery, middle-aged man, who had clearly been in his present service many
years, and was probably completely trusted within his limits, but had not the
ability ever to rise to the position Roger Dod now held.
    “No,
my lord,” he said anxiously, “never a word since, and I’ve been on watch every
moment. He set off for his barge a good quarter of an hour before Roger left.
We had everything stowed to his liking, he was well content. And he’d had a
fall not so long before—you’d know of that?— and was glad enough, I’d say, to
be off home to his bed. For after all, he’s none so young, no more than I am,
and he carried more weight.”
    “And
he set off from here, which way?”
    “Why,
straight to the highroad, close by here. I suppose he’d keep along the
Foregate.”
    Behind
Cadfael’s shoulder a familiar voice, rich and full and merrily