Page 124 of The Evening and the Morning

Erman said: “Anyway, Cwen can’t help with the spring ploughing. Ma will have to guide the ploughshare while we pull.”

The soil at Dreng’s Ferry was light and loamy, but their mother was no longer young. Edgar said: “How is Ma with that?”

“She finds field work hard.”

Edgar saw his mother about once a week, but his brothers were with her every day. “Does she sleep well?” he asked. “Does she have a good appetite?”

They were not very observant. Eadbald shrugged, and Erman said snappishly: “Look, Edgar, she’s old, and one day she will die, and only God knows when that will be.”

After that they stopped talking.

Looking ahead, Edgar reflected that it might not be easy to establish Gab’s cheating for certain. He needed to do it without arousing hostility. If he appeared too obviously inquisitive, Gab would become wary. And if he revealed his suspicions, Gab would be angry. It was curious, but a wrongdoer found out could often be morally indignant, as if the discovery were the offense, rather thanthe original transgression. More importantly, if Gab knew he was mistrusted he would have a chance to cover up.

The raft moved faster than Edgar had when walking on the bank, and they reached the large village of Outhenham at midday. The soil here was clay, and an eight-ox team was pulling a heavy plough in the nearest field, the great clods of earth rising and falling like waves of mud breaking on a beach. In the distance men were sowing, trudging the furrows and throwing the seed, while small children followed, scaring off the birds with shrill cries.

They pulled the raft up onto a beach, and to be doubly safe Edgar tied it to a tree. Then they walked into the village.

Seric was again in his orchard, pruning the trees this time. Edgar stopped to talk to him. “Am I going to have trouble with Dudda again?” he asked.

Seric glanced at the sky to check the time of day. “Not this early,” he said. “Dudda hasn’t had his dinner yet.”

“Good.”

“Mind you, he’s no sweetheart even when sober.”

“I can imagine.”

They walked on, and came across Dudda a minute later, outside the alehouse. “Good day to you, lads,” he said. “What’s your business here?” His aggression was no doubt tempered by the sight of three strong young men. All the same Brindle growled, sensing underlying hostility.

Edgar said to his brothers: “This is Dudda, headman of Outhenham.” To Dudda he said: “I’m here to buy stone at the quarry, same as last time.”

Dudda looked blank. Clearly he had no memory of Edgar’sprevious visit. He said: “Go to the east of the village and follow the track north.”

Edgar knew the way, but he just said: “Thank you” and walked on.

Gab and his family were working in the quarry as before. There was a large stack of cut stones in the middle of the clearing, suggesting that business was slow, which was probably a good thing for Edgar, the buyer. A handcart stood beside the stack.

All I have to do, Edgar thought, is watch how Gab marks the tally stick after I buy the stones I need. If he cuts the correct number of notches, my suspicions are groundless. If not, I’ve proved him guilty.

The slab that Gab was working on fell to the ground with a crash and a cloud of dust, and Gab coughed, put down his tools, and came to speak to the three brothers. He recognized Edgar and said: “Dreng’s Ferry, wasn’t it?”

“I’m Edgar, and these are my brothers, Erman and Eadbald.”

Gab adopted a facetious tone. “Did you bring them to protect you from Dudda?” Obviously he had heard about Edgar’s altercation with the headman on the last visit.

Edgar did not find the joke funny. “I don’t need protection from a fat old drunk,” he said crisply. “I’m here to buy stones, and I’m going to transport them myself this time, so my brothers are here to help me. This way we’ll save a penny on every stone.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” Gab said archly. He did not like Edgar knowing his prices in advance. “Who told you that?”

Cuthbert had, but Edgar decided to ignore the question. “I need ten stones,” he said. He opened the purse Dreng had given him. To his surprise it contained more than the twelve pennies Dreng had said—in fact, he saw at a glance, twenty-four. Erman and Eadbaldsaw him hesitate and frown, and both could see the coins, but Edgar did not give them a chance to comment: he did not want to look indecisive in front of Gab. He postponed consideration of the mystery, and briskly counted out ten pennies.

Gab counted them again and pocketed them but, to Edgar’s disappointment, he did not notch a stick. He just pointed at the stack of stones. “Help yourselves,” he said.

Edgar did not have a plan for this contingency. He decided to move the stones while thinking about it. “We have to take them to the river,” he said to Gab. “Can we use your cart?”

“No,” said Gab with a sly little smile. “You’ve decided to save money. You can carry the stones.” He walked away.

Edgar shrugged. He unslung his ax and handed it to Erman. “You two go into the woods and cut two stout poles for carrying,” he said. “I’ll take a look at the stones.”