brought two pots of strong ale.
‘You wish to sit?’ Wally asked.
‘For a moment, friend,’ Augerus said gratefully. ‘My Abbot is returned, and he’s had me rushing all over the place, cleaning this, sharpening that, preparing his writing
reeds and tablets . . . Ah! Life was so restful while he was away.’
‘I heard you had a good evening in the tavern,’ Wally said.
Augerus shrugged contentedly. While the Abbot was out of the town, he felt free to indulge himself, and it was good to relax with a few ales and a friend. ‘You have it?’
He watched as Wally produced a small lump wrapped in material, bound with a thong. ‘Here.’
Augerus pulled the knot free and glanced down at the pile of coins.
‘You want to count it?’ Wally asked.
‘No. But it’s not much for all the effort.’
‘You know our friend. He’s not generous,’ Wally said easily. There was little point, in his mind, explaining that instead of a fifty-fifty cut, he had taken four-sevenths of
the money – eight shillings out of fourteen instead of seven. Augerus was expecting a full half, but Wally felt justified in awarding himself more. He took much of the risk, after all.
Augerus grunted discontentedly. ‘I’d best be back.’
‘Aye, well, see you later.’
‘I may have something then. A pewterer is in the Abbey.’
‘Not tonight. There will be too many wandering about the town drunk. Leave it till tomorrow. I’ll warn our friend.’
Augerus nodded and left. Soon Wally rose, and as he walked from the alehouse, he saw her again: Sara, the girl with the anxious eyes, as he had thought of her. Yesterday evening, when he had
been hanging around outside Joce Blakemoor’s house, idling there for no particular reason, he had seen the girl rush up to the Receiver’s front door and hammer on it. An attractive
little thing, Wally thought regretfully. Of course, she was far too good-looking for the likes of him, with her fine red gown with embroidered flowers at the hem and her silken fair hair shaken
loose from her wimple and floating about her shoulders as the breeze caught it. She looked beautiful in her apparent distress.
The door had opened and Joce’s servant had appeared, glanced quickly up and down the street, and then fixed upon the girl with evident trepidation. Wally wasn’t surprised, for all
knew that Joce was a vicious bastard to his servant. Wally couldn’t hear a word spoken, but he saw the servant disappear inside, then Joce himself came to the door and held out a hand
wordlessly to the girl. She took it with obvious relief and entered the house with him. Wally left soon afterwards, musing on the sight.
Now he could see her in daylight, she no longer looked so worried. Since going to Joce, she had obviously lost her concerns, and Wally was pleased. She was a lovely thing, a delight to the eyes,
with a smile that many men would die for, and an easy manner, friendly and outgoing. Perhaps more outgoing than she should be, he considered, bearing in mind her visit to Joce’s last night.
It had been painful to see her in such distress. Now her joy chimed with his own pleasure. The monk Peter had made him the happiest man in Tavistock.
‘Sara!’ he called.
She turned on him a smile so radiant that he felt as though the clouds had parted and the sun burst forth with renewed vigour.
‘Hello, Wally. You’re looking well.’
‘Not so well as you, I’ll bet.’
‘I am happy today,’ she said confidentially, swinging her hips so that her skirts swelled and billowed, as if she was dancing to a tune only she could hear.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Have you found a shilling at the roadside?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ she said, still happily swaying. Then she stopped, stepped forward to him, laying a hand lightly on his forearm, and leaned up to him, saying breathily,
‘But it’s wonderful!’
As quickly as she had moved forward, she retreated through the crowds, leaving him with a bemused smile on