He had never married. There hadn’t been an opportunity. His trade was his life, apart from his sister, and although he had never known the joy of fatherhood, of watching a wife of his own grow great with a baby, seeing her face alter, glowing with that inner warmth as she became aware of the life within her, he had seen other women in the first flush of pregnancy. Sara had been like that when she was married, bearing her children. And now she looked that way again.
It was not until she had reached the far side of the market square that he caught up with her. ‘Sara, what are you playing at?’
‘Nothing! What’s the matter with you?’
‘I saw you out there, looking up at him, all moon-eyed. Have you been bloody stupid?’
‘Let go of my arm,’ she said, snatching her forearm from his grasp. ‘Leave me alone, Ellis.’
‘You haven’t been foolish, have you?’
‘No. I have been very sensible,’ she said with a flash of fire in her eyes. ‘I have found a man to love, and who loves me.’
‘And have you slept with him?’
She stiffened, then smacked a hand across his cheek. ‘That is my business, and none of yours, Brother!’
‘You have, haven’t you?’ he said dully. ‘And now you’re pregnant.’
‘Just go away, Ellis.’
‘I know who it is.’
‘I don’t care! He’ll marry me.’
‘He’ll never marry you, you fool.’
It was the first time in days that the agony of Hamelin’s ruined tooth had faded to a dull ache, and now, after the abundant stream of strong ale that Hal had bought him, he felt as though his mouth was almost normal. If only his tongue would keep away from his teeth. He seemed to keep biting it accidentally.
He moved somewhat precariously from the tavern’s door to go and watch the coining, grabbing at a rail here, a fence there, breathing loudly, but with a happy smile on his face. ‘Where’s the coining, friend?’ he asked of a man near the market.
‘Right in front of you! Christ, you’re as drunk as a monk!’ There were other men all about, and some began to laugh at the sight of Hamelin’s state.
‘Look out, he’ll spew over us all.’
‘Not Hamelin, eh, fellow? Hamelin could always handle a few pints.’
‘So can many – but they all fall over just as heavily!’
‘Even bloody monks. The abbot’s steward and his friend Mark were here last weekend, and pissed as rats in cider! Jesu, it was hard to get them out the door, they were swaying so much.’
Hamelin frowned. He could hear voices, but he was finding it hard to focus. Perhaps he ought to go and find his wife. Her rooms weren’t far from the market. He could go and talk to her. Apologise for his failure. She might soothe him a little. If only he hadn’t drunk quite so much…
‘The steward was almost unable to talk, he was so far gone. Mark had to help him through the door, and you could hear the two of them roaring and laughing up the road.’
‘Aye, well, the abbot’s away, isn’t he? It’s rare enough that the monks get a chance to have a drink. Poor bastards! I’d go mad, locked away in that place like them.’
‘Doesn’t sound like they’re too securely locked up, does it?’
‘Yeah, well, every once in a while they get let out.’ Hamelin tried to speak, but phlegm in his throat threatened to choke him. When he had coughed a little, he said, ‘You mean that thieving shit Mark was out here last weekend? If I’d known, I’d have killed the bastard!’
There was a sudden silence. His voice had been louder than he intended. Not that he regretted it. He’d be damned if he’d apologise for cursing the man who had robbed him of his wealth. Mark, it was, who had taken Hamelin’s money, then gambled and lost it all. And by simply taking on the tonsure, he had evaded his debtors. ‘The bastard!’ he repeated.
‘You should keep your voice down.’
‘Who’s that?’ he demanded truculently, peering at the man who had joined him.
‘It’s me – Wally.’
‘Ah! Oh, Wally. Yes. You’re a friend, you are. What are you doing here?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Wally admitted, jealously eyeing the tinners. He should have been up there, selling his tin. If his mining had succeeded, he would have been, instead of earning money by thieving. Ah well. He was alive, and that was the main thing. ‘Come on, Hamelin, let’s get you somewhere safe.’
‘Can’t go home like this. Wife’s got no money. Youngest is ill. Can’t let her see me like this.’
He was a dead weight on Wally’s arm, and Wally staggered. Then he saw a bench, and led Hamelin to it. ‘Lie down on that,’ he puffed.
Hamelin was reluctant to do so, explaining that the sky was turning around and around, and that people were staring at him, but eventually Wally managed to settle him, and soon he was rewarded with harsh rumbling snores.
That was when he returned to watching the coining.
There being a slight pause, Joce and other officers were refreshing themselves with wine. At that point, Wally caught sight of Sara again. She hovered on the edge of the crowd, a hand up as though to wave, her attention fixed eagerly on Joce’s face. Then she called to him softly, her face still excited and joyous. Wally thought he’d never seen such a lovely girl, not since the Scottish woman.
He heard her call out, saw Joce stiffen, saw the receiver’s face alter subtly, that cruel sneer spreading as he turned and strode towards her. The man spoke for a moment, and then guffawed, while Sara’s features seemed to crumple. Suddenly her eyes had regained that appalled expression of the previous night, and her hand went to her mouth.
Wally felt his spine turn to ice.
‘Stupid bitch! Thought because I’d rattled her once, I’d marry her!’
Wally could hear the harshness of the braggart’s voice. Sycophantic colleagues all about Joce chuckled
