While his brothers were away, he studied the pile. He had already tried cutting a stone into slim tiles, and had discovered that it was a delicate task. The thickness had to be just right: thin tiles sometimes fractured, thick ones would be too heavy for the rafters to bear. But he was confident his skill would improve.
When his brothers came back, he trimmed the poles they brought then laid them parallel on the ground. He and Erman picked up a stone and placed it across the poles. Then they knelt on the ground, one in front of the stone and one behind, grasped the poles, and stood up, lifting the whole ensemble to hip height.
They set off down the track to the river. Edgar called back to Eadbald: “Come with us—we’ll need to set a guard on the raft.”
They took turns carrying, with the resting brother remaining at the riverside just in case some enterprising traveler should decide tomake off with a stone or two. By the time the daylight began to fade they had sore shoulders and aching legs, and there was one more stone to move.
But Edgar had not achieved his other purpose. He had failed to confirm Gab’s dishonesty.
The quarry was deserted. Gab and his sons had disappeared, presumably into their house. Edgar tapped on the door and went in. The family were eating their evening meal. Gab looked up with an annoyed expression.
Edgar said: “Can we spend the night here? You were good enough to give me a place to sleep last time.”
“No,” said Gab. “You’re too many. And besides, there are more pennies in that purse of yours—you can afford to stay at the alehouse.”
Edgar was not surprised: the request was hardly reasonable. His question had been no more than a pretext for entering the house.
Gab’s wife, Bee, said: “The alehouse can be rowdy, but the food is all right.”
“Thank you.” Edgar turned around slowly, giving himself time to look carefully at the sticks hanging on the wall. There was a fresh-cut one, he observed, pale and new.
He saw immediately that it had five notches.
That proved it.
He masked his satisfaction, trying to look disappointed and mildly resentful at being refused accommodation. “Good-bye, then,” he said, and walked out.
He felt jubilant as he and Eadbald carried the last stone to the river. He was not sure why, but he was pleased to be able to doRagna a good turn. He looked forward eagerly to telling her all about it.
When the last stone had been added to the stack, Edgar said: “I think the stones will be safe for an hour, if I leave Brindle here, especially now that it’s getting dark. We can get our supper at the alehouse. You two can sleep there, but I’ll spend the night on the raft. The weather’s not too cold.”
He tied up Brindle on a long string, then the three brothers walked to the alehouse. They got bowls of mutton stew and plenty of rye bread, and a pot of ale each. Edgar noticed Gab in a corner with Dudda, deep in conversation.
Eadbald said: “I saw that there was too much money in that purse.”
Edgar had been wondering when this would come up. He said nothing.
Erman said: “What are we going to do with the extra?”
Edgar noticed the use of “we” but did not comment on it. He said: “Well, I think we’re entitled to pay for our supper and beds for the night, but the rest goes back to Dreng, obviously.”
“Why?” said Erman.
Edgar disliked the question. “Because it’s his money!”
“He said he was giving you twelve pennies. How many were there?”
“Twenty-four.”
“How many extra is that?” Erman was not good with numbers.
“Twelve.”
“He made a mistake. So we can keep the extra twelve. We each get... a lot.”
Eadbald, who was smarter than Erman, said: “Four each.”
Edgar said: “So you’re asking me to steal twelve pennies and give eight away!”
