to take place in the abbey church in two days’ time. He had forgotten all aboutit until he noted, along the Foregate, how people were gathering in volublegroups outside their houses, and casting expectant looks awayfrom town, along the London road. The day was cloudy and chill, a faint mist ofrain just perceptible in the air, but the matrons of Shrewsbury were not goingto be done out of a spectacle on that account. By this road both weddingparties would enter, and word had evidently gone before them that they werealready approaching the town. Since they would not actually enter the walls, agood number of the burgesses had come forth to join the people of the Foregateparish. The stir and hum were almost worthy of a minor fair-day. Even thebeggars gathered about the gatehouse had an air of holiday excitement aboutthem. When the baron of an honor scattered over four counties arrived to marrythe heiress to lands as great as his own, there must be lavish largesse to behoped for in celebration.

Cadfael rounded the corner of the precinct wall, by the open green of thehorse-fair, and continued along the highroad, where the houses thinned out, andfields and woods began to reach green fingers to touch the rim of the road inbetween. Here, too, the women stood before their doors, waiting to glimpsebride and groom when they came, and in front of the large house halfway toSaint Giles a knot of interested gazers had gathered to watch the bustle ofactivity through the open gates of the courtyard. Servants and grooms flickeredto and fro between house and stables, flashes of bright liveries crossed theyard. This was where the bridegroom and his retinue were to lodge, while thebride and her party would lie at the abbey guest-hall. Recalled to mild humancuriosity, Cadfael loitered for a moment to stare with the rest.

It was a large house, well walled round, with garden and orchard behind, andit belonged to Roger de Clinton, bishop of Coventry, though he rarely used it