Brother Cadfael 10: The Pilgrim of Hate

said Hugh, peering up into the shadowy face above him. "For you, I think, must be the envoy sent from the Empress Maud and the bishop of Winchester. Your herald arrived little more than an hour ago, I did not expect you quite so soon. I had thought I should be done with this matter by the time you came. My name is Hugh Beringar, I stand here as sheriff for King Stephen. Your men are provided for at the castle, I'll send a guide with them. You, sir, are my own guest, if you will do my house that honour."
    "You're very gracious," said the empress's messenger blithely, "and with all my heart I will. But had you not better first make up your accounts with these townsmen of yours, and let them creep away to their beds? My business can well wait a little longer."
    "Not the most successful action ever I planned," Hugh owned later to Cadfael. "I under-estimated both their hardihood and the amount of cold steel they'd have about them."
    There were four guests missing from Brother Denis's halls that night: Master Simeon Poer, merchant of Guildford; Walter Bagot, glover; John Shure, tailor; William Hales, farrier. Of these, William Hales lay that night in a stone cell in Shrewsbury castle, along with a travelling pedlar who had touted for them in the town, but the other three had all broken safely away, bar a few scratches and bruises, into the woods to westward, the most northerly outlying spinneys of the Long Forest, there to bed down in the warm night and count their injuries and their gains, which were considerable. They could not now return to the abbey or the town; the traffic would in any case have stood only one more night at a profit. Three nights are the most to be reckoned on, after that some aggrieved wretch is sure to grow suspicious. Nor could they yet venture south again. But the man who lives on his wits must keep them well honed and adaptable, and there are more ways than one of making a dishonest living.
    As for the young rufflers and simple tradesmen who had come out with visions of rattling their winnings on the way home to their wives, they were herded into the gatehouse to be chided, warned, and sent home chapfallen, with very little in their pockets.
    And there the night's work would have ended, if the flare of the torch under the gateway had not caught the metal gleam of a ring on Daniel Aurifaber's right hand, flat silver with an oval bezel, for one instant sharply defined. Hugh saw it, and laid a hand on the goldsmith's arm to detain him.
    "That ring - let me see it closer!"
    Daniel handed it over with a hint of reluctance, though it seemed to stem rather from bewilderment than from any feeling of guilt. It fitted closely, and passed over his knuckle with slight difficulty, but the finger bore no sign of having worn it regularly.
    "Where did you get this?" asked Hugh, holding it under the flickering light to examine the device and inscription.
    "I bought it honestly," said Daniel defensively.
    "That I need not doubt. But from whom? From one of those gamesters? Which one?"
    "The merchant - Simeon Poer he called himself. He offered it, and it was a good piece of work. I paid well for it."
    "You have paid double for it, my friend," said Hugh, "for you bid fair to lose ring and money and all. Did it never enter your mind that it might be stolen?"
    By the single nervous flutter of the goldsmith's eyelids the thought had certainly occurred to him, however hurriedly he had put it out of his mind again. "No! Why should I think so? He seemed a stout, prosperous person, all he claimed to be..."
    "This very morning," said Hugh, "just such a ring was taken during Mass from a pilgrim at the abbey. Abbot Radulfus sent word up to the provost, after they had searched thoroughly within the pale, in case it should be offered for sale in the market. I had the description of it in turn from the provost. This is the device and inscription of the bishop of Winchester, and it was given to the bearer to secure him safe-conduct on the road."
    "But I bought it in good faith," protested Daniel, dismayed. "I paid the man what he asked, the ring is mine, honestly come by."
    "From a thief. Your misfortune, lad, and it may teach you to be more wary of sudden kind acquaintances in the future who offer you rings to buy - wasn't it so? - at somewhat less than you know to be their value? Travelling men rattling dice give nothing for nothing, but take whatever they can get. If they've emptied your purse for you, take warning for the next