Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

to open your eyes so wide."
    My mouth, too, thought Cadfael, and shut it while he reflected on the strangeness of human effort, and the sudden rewards that fell undeserved. Not undeserved, perhaps, in this case, since this had fallen to Brother Mark, who modestly made no demands at all.
    "Which arm was gashed?" he asked, further baffling Brother Mark, who naturally could not imagine why that should matter.
    "The left. From here, the outer edge of the wrist, down the underside of the forearm. Almost to the elbow. Why?"
    "Had he his coat on?"
    "Not when I saw him," said Mark, smiling at the absurdity of this catechism. "But he had it over his sound arm. Is that important?"
    "More than you know! But you shall know, later, I am not playing with you. Of what colour was it? And did you see the sleeve that should cover that arm?"
    "I did. I offered to stitch it for him - I had little to do just then. But he said he'd already cobbled it up, and so he had, very roughly, and with black thread. I could have done better for him, the original was unbleached linen thread. The colour? Reddish dun, much like most of the grooms and men-at-arms wear, but a good cloth."
    "Did you know the man? Not one of our own abbey servants?"
    "No, a guest's man," said Brother Mark, patient in his bewilderment. "Not a word to his lord he said! It was one of Ivo Corbiere's grooms, the older one, the surly fellow with the beard."
    Gilbert Prestcote himself, unescorted and on foot, had taken an afternoon turn about the fairground to view the public peace with his own eyes, and was in the great court on his way back to the town, conferring with Hugh Beringar, when Cadfael came in haste from the garden with his news. When the blunt recital was ended, they looked at him and at each other with blank and wary faces.
    "Corbiere's within at this moment," said Hugh, "and I gather from Aline has been, more than an hour. Emma has him dazed, I doubt if he's had any other thought, these last two days. His men have been running loose much as they pleased, provided the work was done. It could be the man."
    "His lord has the right to be told," said Prestcote. "Households grow lax when they see the country torn, and their betters flouting law. There's nothing been said or done to alarm this fellow, I take it? He has no reason to make any move? And surely he values the shelter of a name like Corbiere."
    "No word has been said to any but you," said Cadfael. "And the man may be telling the truth."
    "The tatter of cloth," said Hugh, "I have here on me. It should be possible to match or discard."
    "Ask Corbiere to come," said the sheriff.
    Hugh took the errand to himself, since Ivo was a guest in his rooms. While they waited in braced silence, two of the abbey's men-at-arms came in at the gatehouse with unstrung longbows, and Turstan Fowler between them with his arbalest, the three of them hot, happy and on excellent terms. On the last day of the fair there were normally matches of many kinds, wrestling, shooting at the butts along the river meadows, long-bow against cross-bow, though the long-bow here was usually the short bow of Wales, drawn to the breast, not the ear. The six-foot weapon was known, but a rarity. There were races, too, and riding at the quintain on the castle tiltyard. Trade and play made good companions, and especially good profits for the ale-houses, where the winners very soon parted with all they had won, and the losers made up their losses.
    These three were wreathed together in argumentative amity, passing jokes along the line; each seemed to be vaunting his own weapon. They had strolled no more than halfway across the court when Hugh emerged from the guest-hall with Ivo beside him. Ivo saw his archer crossing towards the stable-yard, and made him an imperious signal to stay.
    There was no fault to be found with Turstan's service since his disastrous fall from grace on the first evening; motioned to hold aloof but remain at call, he obeyed without question, and went on amusing himself with his rivals. He must have done well at the butts for they seemed to be discussing his arbalest, and he braced a foot in the metal stirrup and drew the string to the alert for them, demonstrating that he lost little in speed against their instant arms. No doubt the dispute between speed and range would go on as long as both arms survived. Cadfael had handled both in his time, as well as the eastern bow, the sword, and the lance of the mounted man. Even at this