Free Epic Historial Collection by Ken Follett Page B

and said: “If you want to make an accusation, go to the sheriff.”
    Tom considered that briefly and dismissed it. He had no proof. Instead he said: “What did he look like—the man who sold you my pig?”
    The butcher looked shifty and said: “Like anyone else.”
    â€œDid he keep his mouth covered?”
    â€œNow that I think of it, he did.”
    â€œHe was an outlaw, concealing a mutilation,” Tom said bitterly. “I suppose you didn’t think of that.”
    â€œIt’s pissing with rain!” the butcher protested. “Everyone’s muffled up.”
    â€œJust tell me how long ago he left you.”
    â€œJust now.”
    â€œAnd where was he headed?”
    â€œTo an alehouse, I’d guess.”
    â€œTo spend my money,” Tom said disgustedly. “Go on, clear off. You may be robbed yourself, one day, and then you’ll wish there were not so many people eager to buy a bargain without asking questions.”
    The butcher looked angry, and hesitated as if he wanted to make some rejoinder; then he thought better of it and disappeared.
    Agnes said: “Why did you let him go?”
    â€œBecause he’s known here and I’m not,” Tom said. “If I fight with him I’ll be blamed. And because the pig doesn’t have my name written on its arse, so who is to say whether it is mine or not?”
    â€œBut all our savings—”
    â€œWe may get the money for the pig, yet,” said Tom. “Shut up and let me think.” The altercation with the butcher had angered him, and it relieved his frustration to speak harshly to Agnes. “Somewhere in this town there is a man with no lips and fifty silver pennies in his pocket. All we have to do is find him and take the money from him.”
    â€œRight,” said Agnes determinedly.
    â€œYou walk back the way we’ve come. Go as far as the cathedral close. I’ll walk on, and come to the cathedral from the other direction. Then we’ll return by the next street, and so on. If he’s not on the streets he’s in an alehouse. When you see him, stay by him and send Martha to find me. I’ll take Alfred. Try not to let the outlaw see you.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Agnes said grimly. “I want that money, to feed my children.”
    Tom touched her arm and smiled. “You’re a lion, Agnes.”
    She looked into his eyes for a moment, then suddenly stood on her toes and kissed his mouth, briefly but hard. Then she turned and went back across the marketplace with Martha in tow. Tom watched her out of sight, feeling anxious for her despite her courage; then he went in the opposite direction with Alfred.
    The thief seemed to think he was perfectly safe. Of course, when he stole the pig, Tom had been heading for Winchester. The thief had gone in the opposite direction, to sell the pig in Salisbury. But the outlaw woman, Ellen, had told Tom that Salisbury cathedral was being rebuilt, and he had changed his plans, and inadvertently caught up with the thief. However, the man thought he would never see Tom again, which gave Tom a chance to catch him unawares.
    Tom walked slowly along the muddy street, trying to seem casual as he glanced in at open doorways. He wanted to remain unobtrusive, for this episode could end in violence, and he did not want people to remember a tall mason searching the town. Most of the houses were ordinary hovels of wood, mud and thatch, with straw on the floor, a fireplace in the middle, and a few bits of homemade furniture. A barrel and some benches made an alehouse; a bed in the corner with a curtain to screen it meant a whore; a noisy crowd around a single table signified a game of dice.
    A woman with red-stained lips bared her breasts to him, and he shook his head and hurried past. He was secretly intrigued by the idea of doing it with a total stranger, in daylight, and paying for it, but in all his life he had never