virtuous a young man as ever I saw, to all appearances, but who’s to be sure he didn’t get tired of waiting? And we’d best bear in mind another truth?it was Baldwin Peche made the lock and keys for that strong-box of Aurifaber’s.’
‘There’s a boy runs the errands and sleeps there in the shop,’ said Cadfael. ‘Has he ought to say?’
‘The dark boy, the simpleton? I wouldn’t say his memory goes back farther than a day or so, but he’s positive his master did not come back to his shop after he looked in at mid-morning, the day before he was fished out of the Severn. They were used to his absences by day, but the boy was anxious when there was no return at twilight. He didn’t sleep. I would take his word for it there was no disturbance, no prowling about that burgage during the night. Nor are we the nearer knowing just when the man died, though the night would seem to be when he was set adrift, and the boat, too. There was no overturned coracle sighted down the Severn during the day?either day.’
‘You’ll be going back there, I suppose,’ said Cadfael. There had been very little time the previous day for hunting out all the neighbours to testify. ‘I’ve an errand there myself to the old dame tomorrow, but no occasion to go that way today. Give an eye for me to the little Welsh girl, will you, see in what spirits she is, and whether they’re being rough or smooth with her.’
Hugh cocked a smiling eye at him. ‘Your countrywoman, is she? To judge by the way I heard her singing away about her pot-scouring, last night, she’s in good enough heart.’
‘Singing, was she?’ That would come as very welcome news to that draggled sparrow in his sanctuary cage here. Evidently no hardship more than normal had fallen upon Rannilt for her day of freedom. ‘Good, that answers me very properly. And, Hugh, if you’ll take a nudge from me without asking any questions as to where I picked up the scent?probe around as to whether anyone on that street saw Daniel Aurifaber slipping out in the dark an hour past Compline, when he should have been snug in bed with his bride.’
Hugh turned his black head sharply, and gave his friend a long and quizzical look. ‘That night?’
‘That night.’
‘Three days married!’ Hugh grimaced and laughed. ‘I’d heard the young man has the name for it. But I take your meaning. There may be other reasons for leaving a new wife to lie cold.’
‘When I spoke with him,’ said Cadfael, ‘he made no secret of it that he heartily disliked the locksmith. Though had his dislike had a solid core, and gone as far as congealing into hate, I think he might have been less voluble about it.’
“I’ll bear that in mind, too. Tell me, Cadfael,’ said Hugh, eyeing him shrewdly, ‘how strong is the scent you got wind of? Say I find no such witness?no second such witness, ought I to say??shall I be justified in wagering on the accuracy of your nose?’
‘In your shoes,’ said Cadfael cheerfully, ‘I would.’
‘You seem to have found your witness in very short order,’ remarked Hugh drily, ‘and without leaving the precinct. So you got it out of him?whatever it was that had him choking on a simple lie. I thought you would.’ He rose, grinning, and set down his cup. I’ll take your confession later, I’m away now to see what I can get out of the new wife.’ He clouted Cadfael amiably on the shoulder in passing, and looked back from the doorway. ‘No need to fret for that weedy lad of yours, I’m coming round to your opinion. I doubt if he ever did worse in his life than sneak a few apples from an orchard.’
The journeyman, Iestyn, was working alone in the shop, repairing the broken clasp of a bracelet, when Hugh came to the Aurifaber burgage. It was the first time Hugh had spoken with this man alone, and in company Iestyn kept himself silent and apart. Either he was taciturn by nature, thought Hugh, or the family had taken care to make his status clear to him, and it was not theirs, and there should be no stepping over the line that divided them.
In answer to Hugh’s question he shook his head, smiling and hoisting impassive shoulders.
‘How would I see what goes on in the street after dark or who’s on the prowl when decent folks are in bed? I sleep in the back part of the undercroft, beneath the rear of the hall, my lord. Those outside stairs go down to my bed, as far from the lane as you can get. I neither see nor hear anything from there.’
Hugh had already noted the stairs that dived below the house at the rear, a shallow flight, since the ground dropped steadily away from the street level, and the undercroft, completely below-ground at the street end, was half above-ground at the back. From there, certainly, a man would be cut off from the world outside.
‘At what hour did you go there, two nights ago?’
Iestyn knotted his thick black brows and considered. ‘I’m always early, having to rise early. I reckon about eight that night, as soon as my supper had settled.’
‘You had no late errands to do? Nothing that took you out again after that?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Tell me, Iestyn,’ said Hugh on impulse, ‘are you content in your work here? With Master Walter and his family? You have fair treatment, and a good relationship?’
‘One that suits me well enough,’ said Iestyn cautiously. ‘My wants are simple, I make no complaint. I never doubt time will bring me my due. First to earn it.’
Susanna met Hugh in the hall doorway, and bade him in with the same practical composure she would have used with any other. Questioned, she shrugged away all knowledge with a rueful smile.
‘My chamber is here, my lord, between hall and store, the length of the house away from the street. Baldwin’s boy did not come to us with his trouble, though he well could have done. At least he would have had company. But he didn’t come, so we knew nothing of his master being still astray until the morning, when John came. I was sorry poor Griffin worried out the night alone.’
‘And you had not seen Master Peche during the day?’
‘Not since morning, when we were all about the yard and the well. I went across to his shop at dinner with a bowl of broth, having plenty to spare, and it was then John told me he’d gone out. Gone since mid-morning and said something about the fish rising. To the best I know, that’s the last known word of him.’
‘So Boneth has told me. And no report of him from any shop or ale-house or friend’s house since. In a town where every man knows every man, that’s strange. He steps over his door-sill and is gone.’ He looked up the broad, unguarded stairs that led up from beyond her door to the gallery and the rooms above. ‘How are these chambers arranged? Who has the one on the street, above the shop?’
