Brother Cadfael 04: St. Peter's Fair

her, but they could not linger, it was necessary to leave in good time. She would have wished me to say her goodbye to you, and wish you ..." The words faded on her lips. "Philip, what is it? What ails you?"
    "Gone?" he said, hard and shrill. "She's gone? They, you said! Who? Who is gone with her?"
    "Why, she left with Messire Corbiere, he has offered to escort her to Bristol with his sister, who goes to a convent there. It seemed a lucky chance ... Philip! What have I said? What is wrong?" He had let out a great groan of fury and anguish, and even reached a hand to grip her wrist.
    "Where? Where is he taking her? Now, today!"
    "To his manor of Stanton Cobbold for tonight - his sister is there ..."
    But he was gone, the instant she had named the place, running like a purposeful demon, and not towards the gatehouse, but across the court to the stable-yard. There was no time to ask leave of any man, or respect any man's property, whatever the consequences. Philip took the best-looking horse he saw ready to hand, which by luck - Philip's luck, not the owner's! - stood saddled and waiting for departure, on a tether in the yard. Before Aline, bewildered and frightened, reached the doorway of the hall, Philip was already out of the gate, and a furious groom was haring across the court in voluble and hopeless pursuit.
    Since the nearest way to the road leading south towards Stretton and Stanton Cobbold was to turn left at the gate, and left again by the narrow track on the near side of the bridge, Brother Cadfael and Hugh Beringar, hastening along the Foregate, saw nothing of the turmoil that attended Philip's departure. They came to the gatehouse and the great court without any intimation that things could have gone amiss. There were still guests departing, the normal bustle of the day after the fair, but nothing to give them pause. Hugh made straight for the guest-hall, and Cadfael, following hard on his heels, was suddenly arrested by a large hand on his shoulder, and a familiar, hearty voice hailing him in amiable Welsh.
    "The very man I was looking for! I come to make my farewells, brother, and thank you for your companionship. A good fair! I'm off to my boat now, and away home with a handsome profit."
    Rhodri ap Huw beamed merrily from within the covert of his black beard and thorn-bush of black hair.
    "Far from a good fair to two, at least, who came looking for a profit," said Cadfael ruefully.
    "Ah, but in cash, or some other currency? Though it all comes down to cash in the end, cash or power. What else do men labour for?"
    "For a cause, perhaps, now and then one. You said yourself, I remember, no place like one of the great fairs for meeting someone you'd liefer not be seen meeting. Nowhere so solitary as the middle of a market place!" And he added mildly: "I daresay Owain Gwynedd himself may have had his intelligencers here. Though they'd need to have good English," he said guilelessly, "to gather much profit from it."
    "They would so. No use employing me. I daresay you're right, though. Owain needs to have forward information, as much as any man, if he's to keep his princedom safe, and add a few more miles to it here and there. Now I wonder which of all these traders I've rubbed shoulders with will be making his report in Owain's ear!"
    "And what advice he'll be giving him," said Cadfael.
    Rhodri stroked his splendid beard, and his dark eyes twinkled. "I think he might take him word that the message Earl Ranulf expected from the south - who knows, maybe even from overseas - will never be delivered, and if he wants to get the best out of the hour, he should be aiming to enlarge his rule away from Chester's borders, for the earl will be taking no risks, but looking well to his own. Owain would do better to make his bid in Maelienydd and Elfael, and let Ranulf alone."
    "Now I come to think," mused Cadfael, "it would be excellent cover for Owain's intelligencers to ask the help of an interpreter in these parts, and be seen to need him. Tongues wag more freely before the deaf man."
    "A good thought," approved Rhodri. "Someone should suggest it to Owain." Though there was every indication that the prince of Gwynedd needed no other man's wits to fortify his own, but had been lavishly endowed by God in the first place. Cadfael wondered how many other tongues this simple merchant knew. French, almost certainly enough for his purposes. Flemish, possibly a little, he had undoubtedly travelled in Flanders. It would be no