Brother Cadfael 17: The Potter's Field

a wild one when he was drunk. I remember seeing him at the fair last year, but I had no talk with him. I never knew he was sleeping the nights through up at the potter's croft. Well, I'd never seen the cottage myself then. It was two months later when the prior put me in. there to take care of the place. My man was dead late that Spring, and I'd been asking Haughmond to find me some work to do. Smith had worked well for them in his time, I knew the prior wouldn't turn me away.'

    

'And the woman?' said Hugh. 'A strolling tumbler, so I'm told, dark, very handsome. Did you see him with her?'

    

'He did have a girl with him,' the widow allowed after a moment's thought, 'for I was shopping at the fishmonger's booth close by Wat's tavern, at the corner of the horse fair, the one day, and she came to fetch him away before, she said, he'd drunk all his day's gain and half of hers. That I remember. They were loud, he was getting cantankerous then in his cups, but she was a match for him. Cursed each other blind, they did, but then they went off together as close and fond as you please, and her holding him about the body from stumbling, and still scolding. Handsome?' said the widow, considering, and sniffed dubiously. 'Some might reckon so. A bold, striding, black-eyed piece, thin and whippy as a withy.'

    

'Britric was at this year's fair, too, so they tell me,' said Hugh. 'Did you see him?'

    

'Yes, he was here. Doing quite nicely in the world, by the look of him. They do say there's a good living to be made in pedlary, if you're willing to work at it. Give him a year or two more, and he'll be renting a booth like the merchants, and paying the abbey fees.'

    

'And the woman? Was she with him still?'

    

'Not that I ever saw.' She was no fool, and there was hardly a soul within a mile of Shrewsbury who did not know by this time that there was a dead woman to be accounted for, and the obvious answer, for some reason, was not satisfactory, since enquiry was continuing, and had even acquired a sharper edge. 'I was down into the Foregate only once during the three days, this year,' she said. 'There's others would be there all day and every day, they'll know. But I saw nothing of her. God knows what he's done with her,' said the widow, and crossed herself with matronly deliberation, standing off all evil omens from her own invulnerable virtue, 'but I doubt you'll find anyone here who set eyes on her since last year's Saint Peter's Fair.'

    

'Oh, yes, that fellow!' said Master William Rede, the elder of the abbey's lay stewards, who collected their rents and the tolls due from merchants and craftsmen bringing their goods to the annual fair. 'Yes, I know the man you mean. A bit of a rogue, but I've known plenty worse. By rights he should be paying a small toll for selling here, he brings in as full a man-load as Hercules could have hefted. But you know how it is. A man who sets up a booth for the three days, that's simple, you know where to find him. He pays his dues, and no time wasted. But a fellow who carries his goods on him, he sets eyes on you from a distance, and he's gone elsewhere, and you can waste more time chasing him than his small toll would be worth. Playing hoodman blind in and out of a hundred stalls, and all crowded with folk buying and selling, that's not for me. So he gets off scot-free. No great loss, and he'll come to it in time, his business is growing. I know no more about him than that.'

    

'Had he a woman with him this year?' Hugh asked. 'Dark, handsome, a tumbler and acrobat?'

    

'Not that I saw, no. There was a woman last year I noticed ate and drank with him, she could well be the one you mean. There were times I am sure she made him the sign when I came in sight, to make himself scarce. Not this year, though. He brought more goods this year, and I think you'll find he lay at Wat's tavern, for he needed somewhere to store them. You may learn more of him there.'

    

Walter Renold leaned his folded arms, bared and brawny, on the large cask he had just rolled effortlessly into position in a corner of the room, and studied Hugh across it with placid professional eyes.

    

'Britric, is it? Yes, he put up here with me through the fair. Came heavy laden this year, I let him put his bits and pieces in the loft. Why not? I know he slips his abbey dues, but the loss of his penny won't beggar them. The lord abbot doesn't cast too harsh an eye on the small folk.