Brother Cadfael 07: The Sanctuary Sparrow

which was rather enquiry than response, and kept his mouth shut and his ears open to listen to the tale all over again, with more and richer detail, since this was Peche's chosen craft. The journeyman locksmith, a fine-looking young man who lived with his widowed mother a street or two away in the town, looked out once from the shop doorway, cast a knowledgeable eye on his master, and withdrew, assured of having work to himself, as he preferred it. By this time John Boneth knew everything his skilled but idle tutor could teach him, and was quite capable of running the business single-handed. There was no son to inherit it, he was trusted and depended on, and he could wait.
    'A lucky match, mark,' said Peche, prodding a knowing finger into Brother Cadfael's shoulder, 'especially if this treasury of Walter's is really lost, and can't be recovered. Edred Bele's girl has money enough coming to her to make up the half, at least. Walter's worked hard to get her for his lad, and the old dame's done her share, too. Trust them!' He rubbed finger and thumb together suggestively, and nudged and winked. 'And the girl no beauty and without graces - neither sings nor dances well, and dumb in company. No monster, though, she'll pass well enough, or that youngster would never have been brought to ... not with what he has in hand!'
    'He's a fine-looking lad,' said Cadfael mildly, 'and they say not unskilled. And a good inheritance waiting for him.'
    'Ah, but short now!' whispered Baldwin, leaning closer still and stabbing with a stiff forefinger, his knowing face gleeful. 'It's the waiting is hard to bear. Young folk live now, not tomorrow, and this side marriage - you take my meaning? - not t'other. Oh, the old dame may dote on him, the sun shines out of his tail for her, but she keeps her hold on the purse and doles out sweets very sparingly. Not enough for the sort he fancies!'
    It occurred to Cadfael, rather belatedly, that it was hardly becoming behaviour in one of his habit to listen avidly to local scandal, but if he did nothing to encourage confidences, he certainly did not stop listening. Encouragement, in any case, was unnecessary. Peche had every intention of making the most of his probings.
    'I wouldn't say,' he breathed into Cadfael's ear, 'but he's had his fingers in her purse a time or two, for all her sharpness. His present fancy comes expensive, not to speak of the game there'll be if ever her husband gets to know of their cantrips. It's a fair guess the bride's dowry, as much of it as he can get his hands on, will go to deck out another wench's neck. Not that he had any objections to this match - not he, he likes the girl well enough, and he likes her money a good deal better. But he likes somebody else best of all. No names, no revenges! But you should have seen her as a guest last night! Bold as a royal whore, and the old man puffed up beside her, proud of owning the handsomest thing in the hall, and she and the bridegroom eyeing each other fit to laugh out loud at the old fool. As well I was the only one there had sharp enough eyes to see the sparks pass!'
    'As well, indeed!' said Cadfael almost absently, for he was busy reflecting how understandable it was that Daniel should view his father's tenant with such ill-will. No need to doubt Peche's information, really devoted pryers make sure of their facts. Doubtless, though never a word need have been said, certain quiverings of that inquisitive nose and knowing glances from those coldly merry eyes had warned Daniel, evidently not quite a fool, that his gallivantings were no secret.
    And the other, the old fool, welcome guest at the wedding - of consequence, therefore, among the merchants of Shrewsbury and with a young, bold, handsome wife ... A second marriage, then, on the man's part? The town was not so great that Cadfael had to look very far. Ailwin Corde, widowed a few years ago and married again, against his grown son's wishes, to a fine, flaunting beauty a third his age, called Cecily ...
    'I'd keep your tongue within your teeth,' he advised amiably. 'Wool merchants are a power in this town, and not every husband will thank you for opening his eyes.'
    'What, I? Speak out of turn?' The merry eyes sparkled with all the cordiality of ice, and the long nose twitched. 'Not I! I have a decent landlord and a snug corner, and no call to overturn what suits me well. I take my fun where I find it, Brother, but quietly and privately. No harm in what does none.'
    'None