St. Peter's Fair Read Online Free PDF

a shrewd eye on all the possibilities, and took his time about
selecting his place, even when they had walked the length of the Foregate and
come to the great open triangle of the horse-fair. The abbey servants had set
up a number of more elaborate booths, that could be closed and locked, and
supply living shelter for their holders, and these were let out for rents.
Other traders brought their own serviceable trestles and light roofs, while the
small country vendors would come in early each morning and display their wares
on the dry ground, or on a woven brychan, filling all the spaces between. For
Rhodri nothing was good enough but the best. He fixed upon a stout booth near
the abbey barn and stable, where all customers coming in for the day could
stable their beasts, and in the act could not fail to notice the goods on the
neighbouring stalls.
    “This
will serve very well. One of my lads will sleep the nights here.” The elder of
the two had followed them, balancing the first load easily in a sling over his
shoulders, while the other remained to guard the merchandise stacked on the
jetty. Now he began to stow what he had brought, while Rhodri and Cadfael set
off back to the river to dispatch his fellow after him. On the way they
intercepted one of the stewards, notified him of the site chosen, and came to
terms for the rental. Brother Cadfael’s immediate duty was done, but he was as
interested in the growing bustle along the road and by the Severn as any other
man who saw the like but once a year, and there was time to spare yet before
Compline. It was good, too, to be speaking Welsh, there was seldom need within
the walls.
    They
reached the point where the track turned aside from the highway to go down to
the waterside, and looked down upon a lively scene. The Bristol boat was
moored, and her three crewmen beginning to hoist casks of wine on to the jetty,
while a big, portly, red-faced elderly gentleman in a long gown of fashionable
cut, his capuchon twisted up into an elaborate hat, swung wide sleeves as he
pointed and beckoned, giving orders at large. A fleshy but powerful face,round and choleric, with bristly brows like furze, and bluish
jowls. He moved with surprising agility and speed, and plainly he considered
himself a man of importance, and expected others to recognise him as such on
sight.
    “I
thought it might well be!” said Rhodri ap Huw, pleased with his own acuteness
and knowledge of widespread affairs. “Thomas of Bristol, they call him, one of
the biggest importers of wine into the port there, and deals in a small way in
fancy wares from the east, sweetmeats and spices and candies. The Venetians
bring them in from Cyprus and Syria . Costly and profitable! The ladies will
pay high for something their neighbours have not! What did I say? Money will
bring men together. Whether they hold for Stephen or the empress, they’ll come
and rub shoulders at your fair, brother.”
    “By
the look of him,” said Cadfael, “a man of consequence in the city of Bristol.”
    “So
he is, and I’d have said in very good odour with Robert of Gloucester, but
business is business, and it would take more than the simple fear of venturing
into enemy territory to keep him at home, when there’s good money to be made.”
    They
had turned to begin the descent to the riverside when they were aware of a
growing murmur of excitement among the people watching from the bridge, and of
heads turning to look towards the town gates on the other side of the river.
The evening light, slanting from the west, cast deep shadows under one parapet
and half across the bridge, but above floated a faint, moving cloud of fine
dust, glittering in the sunset rays, and advancing towards the abbey shore. A
tight knot of young men came into sight, shearing through the strolling
onlookers at a smart pace, like a determined little army on the march. All the
rest were idling the tune pleasurably