Brother Cadfael 11: An Excellent Mystery

Lai. I know he is - or was - in the service of the Earl of Worcester since then, which is why he may be hard to find, the times being what they are. If you've had word from him, or can tell us where to look for him, we'll be thankful to you.'
    He was curious now, though still uncertain. 'I have but one uncle, and Adam he's called. Yes, he was huntsman at Lai, and I did hear from my father that he went into arms for his lord's overlord, though I never knew who that might be. But as long as I recall, he never came near us here. I never remember him but from when I was a child shooing the birds off the ploughland. They never got on well, those brothers. Sorry I am, my lord,' he said, and though it was doubtful if he felt much sorrow, it was plain he spoke truth as to his ignorance. 'I have no notion where he may be now, nor where he's been these several years.'
    Hugh accepted that, perforce, and considered a moment.
    'Two brothers, were they? And no more? Never a sister between them? No tie to fetch him back into the shire?'
    'There's an aunt I have, sir, only the one. It was a thin family, ours, my father was hard put to it to work the land after his brother left, until I grew up, and two younger brothers after me. We do well enough now between us. Aunt Elfrid was the youngest of the three, she married a cooper, bastard Norman he was, a little dark fellow from Brigge, called Walter.' He looked up, unaware of indiscretion, at the little dark Norman lord on the tall, raw-boned dapple-grey horse, and wondered at Hugh's blazing smile. 'They're settled in Brigge, I think she has childer. She might know. They were nearer.'
    'And no other beside?'
    'No, my lord, that was all of them. I think,' he said, hesitant but softening, 'he was godfather to her first. He might take that to heart.'
    'So he might,' said Hugh mildly, thinking of his own masterful heir, to whom Cadfael stood godfather, 'so he very well might. I'm obliged to you, friend. At least we'll ask there.' He wheeled his horse, without haste, to the homeward way. 'A good harvest to you!' he said over his shoulder, smiling, and chirruped to the grey and was off, with his sergeants at his heels.
    Walter the cooper had a shop in the hilltop town of Brigge, in a narrow alley no great way from the shadow of the castle walls. His booth was a narrow-fronted cave that drove deep within, and backed on an open, well-lit yard smelling of cut timber, and stacked with his finished and half-finished barrels, butts and pails, and the tools and materials of his craft. Over the low wall the ground fell away by steep, grassy terraces to where the Severn coiled, almost as it coiled at Shrewsbury, close about the foot of the town, broad and placid now at low summer water, with sandy shoals breaking its surface, but ready to wake and rage if sudden rains should come.
    Hugh left his sergeants in the alley, and himself dismounted and went in through the dark booth to the yard beyond. A freckled boy of about seventeen was stooped over his jointer, busy bevelling a barrel-stave, and another a year or two younger was carefully paring long bands of willow for binding the staves together when the barrel was set up in its truss hoop. Yet a third boy, perhaps ten years old, was energetically sweeping up shavings and cramming them into bags for firing. It seemed that Walter had a full quiver of helpers in his business, for they were all alike, and all plainly sons of one father, and he the small, spry, dark man who straightened up from his shaving-horse, knife in hand.
    'Serve you, sir?'
    'Master cooper,' said Hugh, 'I'm looking for one Adam Heriet, who I'm told is brother to your wife. They know nothing of his whereabouts at his nephew's croft at Harpecote, but thought you might be in closer touch with him. If you can tell me where he's to be found, I shall be grateful.'
    There was a silence, sudden and profound. Walter stood gravely staring, and the hand that held the draw-knife with its curved blade sank quite slowly to hang at his side while he thought. Manual dexterity was natural to him, but thought came with deliberation, and slowly. All three boys stood equally mute and stared as their father stared. The eldest, Hugh supposed, must be Adam's godson, if Edric had the matter aright.
    'Sir,' said Walter at length, 'I don't know you. What's your will with my wife's kin?'
    'You shall know me, Walter,' said Hugh easily. 'My name is Hugh Beringar, I am sheriff of this shire, and my business with