Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

took pains to discover that indeed a few things had been stolen. I think she regretted that ever she had cried out in the first place, but if the law must know of it, she would ensure that it was accepted as a trivial theft by some common pick-purse. Truth is what she told unguardedly, with that scornful 'no' of hers. Afterwards she made to undo the effect by lying, and for one not by nature a liar she did it well. But for all that, I think, like you, those pretty things of hers never existed, or never were aboard the barge."
    "Still remains the question," said Hugh, considering, "of why she was so sure in the first place that nothing had been taken."
    "Because," said Cadfael simply, "she knew what the thief must have come looking for, and she knew he had not found it, because she knew it was not there to be found. The second search was also vain. Whatever it may be, it was not on Master Thomas's person, which was clearly the most likely place, nor was it on his barge."
    "Hence this third search! So now divine for me, Cadfael, whether this third attempt has succeeded or no. The merchant's strong-box is vanished - again a logical place to keep something so precious. Will this be the end of it?" Cadfael shook his head emphatically. "This attempt has fared no better than the others," he said positively. "You may take that as certain."
    "How can you be so sure of it?" demanded Hugh curiously.
    "You saw all that I saw. She does not care a farthing for the loss of the strong-box! As soon as she knew that the man Warm was unhurt, she took everything else calmly enough. Whatever it is the unknown is seeking, she knew it was not in the barge, and she knew it was not in the booth. And I can think of only one reason why she should know so well where it is not, and that is that she knows equally well where it is."
    "Then the next possibility the enemy will be considering," said Hugh with conviction, "is where she is - on her person or in some hiding-place only she knows of. Well, we'll keep a vigilant eye on Emma, between us. No," said Hugh reflectively, "I cannot imagine any evil of her, but neither can I imagine how she can be tangled in something grim enough to bring about murder, violence and theft, nor why, if she knows herself to be in danger and in need of help, she won't speak out and ask for it. Aline has tried her best to get her to confide, and the girl remains all sweetness and gratitude, but lets no word drop of any burden she may be carrying. And you know Aline, she draws out confidences without ever asking a probing question, and whoever can resist her is beyond the reach of the rest of us ..."
    "I'm glad to see you so fond a husband," said Cadfael approvingly.
    "So you should be, it was you tossed the girl into my arms in the first place. You'd best be worrying now about what manner of father I shall make! And you might put in a prayer for me on the issue, some time when you're on your knees. No, truly, Cadfael ... I wonder about this girl. Aline likes her, and that's recommendation enough. And she seems to like Aline - no, more than like! Yet she never lets down her veils. When she seems most to cherish my most cherishable lady, she is also more careful not to let slip one unguarded word about her own situation."
    Brother Cadfael saw no paradox there. "So she would be, Hugh," he said gravely. "If she feels herself to be in danger, the last thing she will do is to draw in beside her someone she values and likes. By every means in her power - and I think she is a clever and resourceful girl - she will stand off her friends from any share in what she is about."
    Beringar considered that long and sombrely, nursing his empty horn. "Well, all we can do is hedge her about thick enough to stand off, likewise, whatever move may be made against her."
    It had not occurred to him, it was only now insinuating itself into Cadfael's thoughts, that the next decisive move might come from Emma herself, rather than being made against her. A piece of this mystery, apparently the vital piece, she had in her hands; if any use was to be made of it, it might well be at her decree.
    Hugh set aside his drinking-horn and rose, brushing the summer dust from his cotte. "Meantime, the sheriff is left with a murder on his hands, and I tell you, Cadfael, that affair now looks less than ever like a drunken revenge by an aggrieved youth of the town - though to tell truth, it never did look too convincing, even if we could not discard it out of