Page 131 of The Evening and the Morning

“I was asking questions.”

Osmund said: “Listen to me. We had a difference of opinion with Wynstan about Dreng’s Ferry, but the matter has been resolved and is now closed.”

“Not really. The minster is still an abomination in the sight of the Lord.”

“That’s as may be, but I have decided not to quarrel with the bishop. I don’t accuse you of plotting against me, despite Hildred’s hot words, but really, Aldred, you must not undermine me.”

Aldred felt shame mixed with indignation. He had no wish to offend his kindly but lazy superior. On the other hand, it was wrong for a man of God to overlook wickedness. Osmund would do anything for a quiet life, but a monk was obliged to do more than seek a quiet life.

However, this was not the time to make a stand. “I’m sorry, mylord abbot,” he said. “I will try harder to remember my vow of obedience.”

“I knew you’d see sense,” said Osmund.

Hildred looked skeptical. He did not believe that Aldred was sincere.

And he was right.

Edgar arrived back in Dreng’s Ferry on the afternoon of the following day. He was dead beat. It had been a mistake to carry a sack of lime that distance. He was strong, but not superhuman. He had a crippling backache.

The first thing he saw was a pile of stones on the bank of the river. His brothers had unloaded the raft but had not carried the stones to the site of the brewhouse. At that moment he felt he could have murdered them both.

He was too tired even to walk into the tavern. He dumped his sack by the stones and lay on the ground right there.

Dreng came out and saw him. “So you’re back,” he said superfluously.

“Here I am.”

“The stones have arrived.”

“So I see.”

“What have you brought?”

“A sack of lime. I saved you the cost of horse transport, but I’ll never do it again.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Dreng smiled with an odd look of malicious satisfaction.

Edgar said: “Except for one thing.” He took out the purse. “You gave me too much money.”

Dreng looked startled.

Edgar said: “The stones were a penny each. We paid a penny at the alehouse in Outhenham for supper and beds. The lime was four pence. There are nine pennies left.”

Dreng took the purse and counted the coins. “So there are,” he said. “Well, well.”

Edgar was puzzled. A man as mean as Dreng should have been horrified to learn that he had handed over more money than necessary. But he was just mildly surprised.

“Well, well,” Dreng said again, and he went back into the alehouse.

Lying supine, waiting for his back to stop hurting, Edgar mused. It was almost as if Dreng knew he had given too much and was surprised to get some back.

Of course, Edgar thought; that was it.

He had been given a test. Dreng had deliberately put temptation in his way, to see what he would do.