“In that case, I have to return and speak with my master.” Edgar did not want to do this. He was determined to go back and report success. But he could not allow Gab to overcharge him. Edgarmistrusted Gab. Perhaps the man was only negotiating, but Edgar had a feeling he might be dishonest.
The quarryman coughed. “Last time we dealt with Degbert Baldhead, the dean. He didn’t like spending his money.”
“My master, Dreng, is the same. They’re brothers.”
“What’s the stone for?”
“I’m building a brewhouse for Dreng. His wife makes the ale and she keeps burning the wooden buildings down.”
“You’re building it?”
Edgar lifted his chin. “Yes.”
“You’re very young. But Dreng wants a cheap builder, I suppose.”
“He wants cheap stone, too.”
“Did you bring the money?”
I may be young, Edgar thought, but I’m not stupid. “Dreng will pay when the stones arrive.”
“He’d better.”
Edgar guessed the quarrymen would carry the stones, or transport them in a cart, as far as the river, then load them on a raft for the journey downstream to Dreng’s Ferry. It would take them several trips, depending on the size of the raft.
Gab said: “Where are you spending the night? In the tavern?”
“I told you, I’ve no money.”
“You’ll have to sleep here, then.”
“Thank you,” said Edgar.
Gab’s wife was Beaduhild but he called her Bee. She was more welcoming than her husband, and invited Edgar to share the evening meal. As soon as his bowl was empty, he realized how tired he wasafter his long walk, and he lay down on the floor and fell asleep immediately.
In the morning he said to Gab: “I’m going to need a hammer and chisel like yours, so that I can shape the stones to my needs.”
“So you are,” said Gab.
“May I look at your tools?”
Gab shrugged.
Edgar picked up the wooden hammer and hefted it. It was big and heavy, but otherwise simple and crude, and he could easily make one like it. The smaller, iron-headed hammer was more carefully made, its handle firmly wedged to the head. Best of all was the iron chisel, with a wide, blunt blade and a spreading top that looked like a daisy. Edgar could forge a copy in Cuthbert’s workshop. Cuthbert might not like sharing his space, but Dreng would get Degbert to insist, and Cuthbert would have no choice.
Hanging on pegs next to the tools were several sticks with notches. Edgar said: “I suppose you keep a tally stick for each customer.”
“What business is that of yours?”
“Sorry.” Edgar did not want to appear nosy. However, he could not help noticing that the newest stick had only five notches. Could it be that Gab recorded only half the stones he sold? That would save him a lot in taxes.
But it was no business of Edgar’s if Gab was cheating his lord. The Vale of Outhen was part of the ealdormanry of Shiring, and Ealdorman Wilwulf was rich enough already.
Edgar ate a hearty breakfast, thanked Bee, and set out to walk home.
From Outhenham he thought he could find his way easily, having already made the journey in the opposite direction, but to his dismayhe got lost again. Because of the delay it was near dark when he arrived home, thirsty and hungry and weary.
In the alehouse they were getting ready to go to sleep. Ethel smiled at him, Leaf gave a slurred welcome, and Dreng ignored him. Blod was stacking firewood. She stopped what she was doing, straightened up, put her left hand on the back of her hip, and stretched her body as if easing an ache. When she turned around, Edgar saw that she had a black eye.
