Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

hand."
    "Surely there's good ground now for letting the provost bail his lad out and take him home?" said Cadfael, encouraged. "Of all the young men around this town, Philip must be the clearest from any suspicion of this last outrage, or the raid on the barge, either. The gaoler who turns the key on him can witness where he's been all this while, and swear he never left it."
    "I'm off to the castle now," said Hugh. "I can't vouch for the sheriff, but I'll certainly speak a word in his ear, and in the provost's, too. It's well worth making the approach."
    He looked down, flashing out of his preoccupation with a sudden mischievous smile, combed the fingers of one hand through the hedge of bushy greying hair that rimmed Cadfael's sunburned tonsure, leaving it bristling like thorn-bushes, snapped a finger painfully against the nut-brown dome between, and took his departure with his usual light stride and insouciant bearing, which the unwary mistook for the mark of a frivolous man. Such small indulgences he was more likely to permit himself, strictly with friends, when he was engaged on something more than usually grave.
    Cadfael watched him go, absently smoothing down the warlike crest Hugh had erected. He supposed he had better be stirring, too, and hand over charge here to Brother Mark until evening. It would not do to take his eyes off Emma for any length of time, and Aline, to please a solicitous husband, consented to doze for an hour or two in the afternoon, for the sake of the child. Grandchildren by proxy, Cadfael reflected, might be a rare and pleasurable recompense for a celibate prime. As for old age, he had not yet begun to think about it; no doubt it had its own alleviations.
    Chapter Two
    For all I said," Emma mused aloud, putting fine stitches into a linen band for an infant's cap, in the lofty midday light in the window of Aline's bedchamber, "I do grieve for those gloves of mine. Such fine leather, supple and black, and a wealth of gold in the embroidery. I never bought such expensive ones before." She reached the end of her seam, and snipped off the thread neatly. "They say there's a very good glover has a stall in the fair," she said, smoothing her work. "I thought I might take a look at his wares, and see if he has anything as fine as those I've lost. They tell me he's well known in Chester, and the countess buys from him. I think perhaps I'll walk along the Foregate this afternoon, and see what he has. What with all these upsets, I've hardly seen anything of the fair."
    "A good idea," said Aline. "Such a fine day, we should not be spending it here within doors. I'll come with you."
    "Oh, no, you should not," protested Emma solicitously. "You nave not had your sleep this afternoon. No need to keep me company that short way. I should be distressed if you tired yourself on my account."
    "Oh, folly!" said Aline cheerfully. "I am so healthy I shall burst if I have too little to do. It's Constance and Hugh who want to make an invalid of me, just because I'm in a woman's best and happiest estate. And Hugh is gone to the sheriff, and Constance is visiting with a cousin of hers in the Wyle, so who's to fret? I'll slip on my shoes, and we'll go. I should like to buy a box of those sugared fruits your uncle brought from the east. We'll do that, too."
    It seemed that Emma had, after all, lost her taste for the expedition. She sat stroking the embroidered band she had just finished, and eyed the shape of linen cut for the crown. "I don't know - I should finish this, perhaps. After tomorrow there may be no choice, and I should be sorry to leave it for someone else to finish. As for the candied fruits, I'll ask Roger to bring you a box, when he comes again this evening to tell me how the day has gone. Tomorrow it will be here."
    "That's kind," said Aline, slipping on her shoes none the less, "but he could hardly try on a pair of gloves for you, or choose with your eye. So let's go and see for ourselves. It won't take long."
    Emma sat hesitating, but whether in a genuine endeavour to make up her mind, or in search of a way of extricating herself from an unsatisfactory situation, Aline could not be sure. "Oh, no, I should not! How can I give my mind to such vanity, at a time like this! I'm ashamed that I ever thought of it. My uncle dead, and here am I yearning after trumpery bits of finery. No, I won't be so shallow. Let me at least go on with my work for the child, instead of thinking only of my own adornment." And