St. Peter's Fair (3 page)

When
he emerged from the refectory after supper, into an evening still all rose and
amber light, the court was as animated as at noon, and new arrivals still
entering at the gatehouse. In the cloister Hugh Beringar sat sprawled at ease,
waiting for him; a lightweight, limber, dark young man, lean of feature and
quizzical of eyebrow. A formidable face, impossible to read unless a man knew
the language. Happily, Cadfael did, and read with confidence.

“If
you have not lost your cunning,” said the young man, lazily rising, “or met
your overmatch in this new abbot of yours, you can surely find a sound excuse
for missing Collations—and a drop of good wine to share with a friend.”

“Better
than an excuse,” said Cadfael readily, “I have an acknowledged reason. They’re
having trouble in the grange court with scour among the calves, and want a
brewing of my cure in a hurry. And I daresay I can find you a draught of
something better than small ale. We can sit outside the workshop, such a warm
evening. But are you not a neglectful husband,” he reproved, as they fell
companionably into step on their way into the gardens, “to abandon your lady
for an old drinking crony?”

“My
lady,” said Hugh ruefully, “has altogether abandoned me! A breeding girl has
only to show her nose in the guest-hall, and she’s instantly swept away by a
swarm of older dames, all cooing like doves, and loading her with advice on
everything from diet to midwives’ magic. Aline is holding conference with all
of them, hearing details of all their confinements, and taking note of all
their recommendations. And since I can neither spin, nor weave, nor sew, I’m
banished.” He sounded remarkably complacent about it, and being well aware of
it himself, laughed aloud. “But she told me she had seen you, and you needed no
telling. How do you think she is looking?”

“Radiant!”
said Cadfael. “In full bloom, and prettier than ever.”

In
the herb-garden, shaded along one side by its high hedge from the declining
sun, the heavy fragrances of the day hung like a spell. They settled on a bench
under the eaves of Cadfael’s workshop, with a jug of wine between them.

“But I must start my draught brewing,” said Cadfael.
“You may talk to me while I do it. I shall hear you within, and I’ll be with
you as soon as I have it stirring. What’s the news from the great world? Is
King Stephen secure on his throne now, do you think?”

Beringar
considered that in silence for a few moments, listening contentedly to the soft
sounds of Cadfael’s movements within the hut. “With all the west still holding
out for the empress, however warily, I doubt it. Nothing is moving now, but
it’s an ominous stillness. You know that Earl Robert of Gloucester is in
Normandy with the empress?”

“So
we’d heard. It’s not to be wondered at, he is her half-brother, and fond of
her, so they say, and not an envious man.”

“A
good man,” agreed Hugh, doing an opponent generous justice, “one of the few on
either side not grasping for what he himself can get. The west, however quiet
now, will do what Robert says. I can’t believe he’ll hold off for ever. And
even out of the west, he has kinsmen and influence. The word runs that he and
Maud, from their refuge in France, are working away quietly to enlist powerful
allies, wherever they see a hope. If that’s true, this civil war is by no means
over. Promised enough support, there’ll be a bid for the lady’s cause, soon or
late.”

“Robert
has daughters married about the land,” said Cadfael thoughtfully, “and all of
them to men of might. One of them to the earl of Chester, I recall. If a few of
that measure declared for the empress, you might well have a war on your hands
to some purpose.”

Beringar
drew a long face, and then shrugged off the thought. Earl Ranulf of Chester was
certainly one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, virtually king himself
of an immense palatine where his writ ran, and no other. But for that very
reason he was less likely to feel the need to declare for either side in the
contention for the throne. Himself supreme, and unlikely ever to be threatened
in his own possessions by either Maud or Stephen, he could afford to sit back
and watch his own borders, not merely with a view to preserving them intact, rather
to extending them. A land at odds with itself offers opportunities, as well as
threats.

“Ranulf
will need a lot of persuading, kinsman or no. He’s
very well as
he is, and if he does move it will be because he sees profit and power in it
for himself, and the empress will come a poor second. He’s not the man to risk
anything for any cause but his own.”

Cadfael
came out from the hut to sit beside him, drawing grateful breath in the evening
coolness, for he had his small brazier burning within, beneath his simmering
brew. “That’s better! Now fill me a cup, Hugh, I’m more than ready for it.” And
after a long and satisfying draught he said thoughtfully: “There were some
fears this disturbed state of things could ruin the fair even this year, but it
seems trade keeps on the move while barons skulk in their castles. The
prospects are excellent, after all.”

“For
the abbey, perhaps,” agreed Hugh. “The town is less happy about the outlook,
from all we heard as we passed through. This new abbot of yours has set the
burgesses properly by the ears.”

“Ah,
you’ve heard about that?” Cadfael recounted the course of the argument, in case
his friend had caught but one side of it. “They have a case for seeking relief,
no question. But so has he for refusing it, and he’s standing firm on his
rights. No way round it in law, he’s taking no more than is granted to him. And
no less!” he added, and sighed.

“Feelings
are running high in the town,” warned Beringar seriously. “I would not be sure
you may not have trouble yet. I doubt if the provost made any too much of their
needs. The word in the town is that this may be law, but it is not justice. But
what’s the word with you? How are you faring in the new dispensation?”

“You’ll
hear murmurs even within our walls,” admitted Cadfael, “if you keep your ears
open. But for my part, I have no complaint. He’s a hard man, but fair, and at
least as hard on himself as on others. We’ve been spoiled and easy with
Heribert, and the new curb pulled us up pretty sharply, but that’s the sum of it.
I have much confidence in the man. He’ll chasten where he sees fault, but he’ll
stand by his own against any power where they are threatened blameless. He’s a
man I’d be glad to have beside me in any battle.”

“But
his loyalty’s limited to his own?” said Beringar slyly, and cocked a slender
black brow.

“We
live in a contentious world,” said Brother Cadfael,
who had
lived more than half his life in the thick of the battles. “Who says peace would
be good for us? I don’t know the man well enough yet to know what’s in his
mind. I have not found him limited, but his vows are to his vocation and this
house. Give him room and time, Hugh, and we shall see what follows. Time was
when I was in two minds, or more, about you!” His voice marvelled and smiled at
the thought. “Not very long, however! I shall soon get the measure of Radulfus,
too. Hand me the jug, lad, and then I must go and stir this brew for the
calves. How long have we yet to Compline?”

Chapter Two

ON
THE THIRTY-FIRST OF JULY the vendors came flooding in, by road and by river.
From noon onward the horse-fair was marked out in lots for stalls and booths,
and the abbey stewards were standing by to guide pedlars and merchants to their
places, and levy the tolls due on the amount of merchandise they brought. A halfpenny
for a modest man-load, a penny for a horse-load, from twopence to fourpence for
a cart-load, depending on the size and capacity, and higher fees in proportion
for the goods unloaded from the river barges that tied up at the temporary
landing-stage along the Gaye. The entire length of the Foregate hummed and
sparkled with movement and colour and chatter, the abbey barn and stable
outside the wall was full, children and dogs ran among the booths and between
the wheels of the carts, excited and shrill.

The
discipline of the day’s devotions within the walls was not relaxed, but between
offices a certain air of holiday gaiety had entered with the guests, and
novices and pupils were allowed to wander and gaze without penalty. Abbot
Radulfus held himself aloof, as was due to his dignity, and left the
superintendence of the occasion and the collection of tolls to his lay
stewards, but for all that he knew everything that was going on, and had
measures in mind to deal with any emergency. As soon as the arrival of the
first Flemish merchant was reported to him, together with the news that the man
had little French, he dispatched Brother Matthew, who had lived for some years
in Flanders in his earlier days, and
could speak fluent Flemish,
to deal with any problems that might arise. If the fine-cloth merchants were
coming, there was good reason to afford them every facility, for they were
profitable visitors. It was a mark of the significance of the Shrewsbury fair
that they should undertake so long a journey from the East Anglian ports where
they put in, and find it worth their while to hire carts or horses for the
overland pilgrimage.

The
Welsh, of course, would certainly be present in some numbers, but for the most
part they would be the local people who had a foot on either side the border,
and knew enough English to need no interpreters. It came as a surprise to
Brother Cadfael to be intercepted once again as he left the refectory after
supper, this time by the steward of the grange court, preoccupied and breathless
with business, and told that he was needed at the jetty, to take care of one
who spoke nothing but Welsh, and a man of consequence, indeed of
self-importance, who would not be fobbed off with the suspect aid of a local
Welshman who might well be in competition with him on the morrow.

“Prior
Robert gives you leave, for as long as you’re needed. It’s a fellow by the name
of Rhodri ap Huw, from Mold. He’s brought a great load up the Dee, and ported
it over to Vrnwy and Severn, which must have cost him plenty.”

“What
manner of goods?” asked Cadfael, as they made for the gatehouse together. His
interest was immediate and hearty. Nothing could have suited him better than a
sound excuse to be out among the noise and bustle along the Foregate.

“What
looks like a very fine wool-clip, mainly. And also honey and mead. And I
thought I saw some bundles of hides—maybe from Ireland, if he trades out of the
Dee . And there’s the man himself.”

Rhodri
ap Huw stood solid as a rock on the wooden planking of the jetty beside his
moored barge, and let the tides of human activity flow round him. The river ran
green and still, at a good level for high summer; even boats of deeper draught
than usual had made the passage without mishap, and were unloading and unbaling
on all sides. The Welshman watched, measuring other men’s bales with shrewd,
narrowed dark
eyes, and pricing what he saw. He looked about
fifty years old, and so assured and experienced that it seemed strange he had
never picked up English. Not a tall man, but square-built and powerful, fierce
Welsh bones islanded in a thick growth of thorny black hair and beard. His
dress, though plain and workmanlike, was of excellent material and well-fitted.
He saw the steward hurrying towards him, evidently having carried out his
wishes to the letter, and large, white teeth gleamed contentedly from the
thicket of the black beard.

“Here
am I, Master Rhodri,” said Cadfael cheerfully, “to keep you company in your own
tongue. And my name is Cadfael, at your service for all your present needs.”

“And
very welcome, Brother Cadfael,” said Rhodri ap Huw heartily. “I hope you’ll
pardon my fetching you away from your devotions…”

“I’ll
do better. I’ll thank you! A pity to have to miss all this bustle, I can do
with a glimpse of the world now and again.”

Sharp,
twinkling eyes surveyed him from head to toe in one swift glance. “You’ll be
from the north yourself, I fancy. Mold is where I come from.”

“Close
by Trefriw I was born.”

“A
Gwynedd man. But one who’s been a sight further through the world than Trefriw,
by the look of you, brother. As I have. Well, here are my two fellows, ready to
unload and porter for me before I send on part of my cargo downriver to
Bridgnorth, where I have a sale for mead. Shall we have the goods ashore
first?”

The
steward bade them choose a stand at whatever point Master Rhodri thought fit
when he had viewed the ground, and left them to supervise the unloading.
Rhodri’s two nimble little Welsh boatmen went to work briskly, hefting the
heavy bales of hides and the wool-sacks with expert ease, and piling them on
the jetty, and Rhodri and Cadfael addressed themselves pleasurably to watching
the lively scene around them; Its many of the townsfolk and the abbey guests
were also doing. On a fine summer evening it was the best of entertainments to
lean over the parapet of the bridge, or stroll along the green path to the
Gaye, and stare at an annual commotion which was one of the year’s highlights.
If some of the
townspeople looked on with dour faces, and
muttered to one another in sullen undertones, that was no great wonder, either.
Yesterday’s confrontation had been reported throughout the town, they knew they
had been turned away empty-handed.