Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

she picked up the cut linen. Aline noted that the hand holding it trembled a little, and wondered whether to persist. Plainly the girl wanted to go forth for some purpose of her own, but would not go unless it could be alone. And alone, said Aline firmly to herself, she certainly shall not go, if I can prevent.
    "Well," she said doubtfully, "if you're determined to be so penitential, I won't play the devil and tempt you. And I'm the gainer, your sewing is so fine, I could never match it. Who taught you so well?" She slipped off her soft leather shoes, and sat down again. Something, at least, she had learned, better to let well alone now. Emma welcomed the change of subject eagerly. Of her childhood she would talk freely.
    "My mother was a famous embroidress. She began to teach me as soon as I could manage a needle, but she died when I was only eight, and Uncle Thomas took me in. We had a housekeeper, a Flemish lady who had married a Bristol seaman, and been widowed when his ship was lost, and she taught me everything she knew, though I could never equal her work. She used to make altar cloths and vestments for the church, such beautiful things ..."
    So a plain pair of good black gloves, thought Aline, would have done well enough for you at any time, since you could have adorned them to your own fancy. And those who can do such things exquisitely, seldom prefer the work of others.
    It was not difficult to keep Emma talking, but for all that, Aline could not help wondering what was going through the girl's mind, and how soon, and how cunningly, she would make the next bid to slip away solitary about her mysterious business. But as it fell out, she need not have troubled, for late in the afternoon came a lay brother from the gatehouse, to announce that Martin Bellecote had brought down Master Thomas's coffin, and desired permission to proceed with his business. Emma rose instantly, laying down her sewing, her face pale and intent. If there was one thing certain, it was that no other matter, however urgent, would take her away from the church until her uncle was decently coffined and sealed down for his journey home, and prayers said for his repose, as later she would attend the first Mass for him. Whatever he had been to others, he had been uncle and father and friend to his orphaned kinswoman, and no reverence, no tribute, would be omitted from his obsequies.
    "I will come myself," said Emma. "I must say farewell to him." She had not yet seen him, dead, but the brothers, long expert in the gentle arts that reconcile life to death, would have made sure that she would be able to remember him without distress.
    "Shall I come with you?" offered Aline.
    "You are very good, but I would rather go alone."
    Aline followed as far as the great court, and watched the little procession cross to the cloister, Emma walking beside the handcart on which Martin and his son wheeled the coffin. When they had lifted the heavy box and carried it in by the south door of the church, with Emma following, Aline stood for some minutes looking about her. At this hour most of the guests and many of the lay servants were out at the fair, only the brothers went about their business as usual. Through the wide gate of the distant stable-yard she could see Ivo Corbiere's young groom rubbing down a pony, and the archer Turstan Fowler sitting on a mountingblock, whistling as he burnished a saddle. Sober and recovered from his debauch, he was a well-set-up and comely fellow, with the open face of one who has not a care in the world. Evidently he was long since forgiven, and back in favour.
    Brother Cadfael, coming from the gardens, saw her still gazing pensively towards the church. She smiled at sight of him.
    "Martin has brought the coffin. They are within there, she'll think of nothing else now. But, Cadfael, she intends to give us all the slip when she can. She has tried. She would see, she said, if the glover at the fair has something to take the place of the ones she lost. But when I said I would go with her, no, that would not do, she gave up the idea."
    "Gloves!" murmured Brother Cadfael, scrubbing thoughtfully at his chin. "Strange, when you think of it, that it should be gloves she has on her mind, in the middle of summer."
    Aline was in no position to follow that thought, she took it at its surface meaning. "Why strange? We know there were some stolen from her, and here we are at one of the few fairs where rare goods are to be bought, it follows