“She had already lost what she most valued,” saidCadfael. “Husband and child both, within twenty days. Hedied, and she miscarried. She could not bear to go on living,alone, in the house where they had been happy together. But it wasbecause she valued it that she wanted it spent for God, not hoardedup with the rest of a property large enough to provide handsomelyeven without it for herself and all her kinsfolk and workfolk. Itpays for the lighting and draping of Our Lady’s altar thewhole year round. It’s what she chose. But just the one linkshe kept—one rose a year. He was a very comely man, EdredPerle,” said Cadfael, shaking his head mildly over thevulnerability of beauty, “I saw him pared away to the bone ina searing fever, and had no art to cool him. A man remembersthat.”

“You’ve seen many such,” said Hugh reasonably,“here and on the fields of Syria, long ago.”

“So I have! So I have! Did ever you hear me say I’dforgotten any one of them? But a young, handsome man, shrivelledaway before his time, before even his prime, and his girl leftwithout even his child to keep him in mind… A sad enoughcase, you’ll allow.”

“She’s young,” said Hugh with indifferentpracticality, his mind being on other things. “She shouldmarry again.”

“So think a good many of our merchant fathers in thetown,” agreed Cadfael with a wry smile, “the lady beingas wealthy as she is, and sole mistress of the Vestiers’clothier business. But after what she lost, I doubt if she’lllook at a grey old skinflint like Godfrey Fuller, who’sburied two wives already and made a profit out of both of them, andhas his eye on a third fortune with the next. Or a fancy youngfellow in search of an easy living!”

“Such as?” invited Hugh, amused.

“Two or three I could name. William Hynde’syoungster, for one, if my gossips tell me truth. And the ladwho’s foreman of her own weavers is a very well-looking youngman, and fancies his chance with her. Even her neighbour thesaddler is looking for a wife, I’m told, and thinks she mightvery well do.”