“And that’s what brought you to Walter Aurifaber’s house last night,” saidCadfael mildly, stripping back a torn sleeve from a thin, sinewy forearm markedby a long slash from a knife. “To play at his son’s wedding-feast.”

One dark-blue eye peered up at him sidelong. “You know them?”

“There are few people in the town that I don’t know. I tend many folk withinthe walls, the old Aurifaber dame among them. Yes, I know that household. Butit had slipped my mind that the goldsmith was marrying his son yesterday.”Knowing them as well as he did, he was sure that for all their wish to make animpressive show, they would not pay out money enough to attract the better sortof musicians, such as the nobility welcomed as guests. But a poor vagrantjongleur trying his unpromising luck in the town, that they might consider. Allthe more if his performance outdid his appearance, and genuine music could behad dead cheap. “So you heard of the celebration, and got yourself hired toentertain the guests. Then what befell, to bring the jollity to such a grimending? Reach me here a pad of cloth, Oswin, and hold the candle nearer.”

“They promised me three pence for the evening,” said Liliwin, trembling nowas much with indignation as fear and cold, “and they cheated me. It was none ofmy fault! I played and sang my best, did all my tricks… The house was full ofpeople, they crowded me, and the young fellows, they were drunk and lungeous,they hustled me! A juggler needs room! It was not my fault the pitcher wasbroken. One of the youngsters jumped to catch the balls I was spinning, heknocked me flying, and the pitcher went over from the table, and smashed. Shesaid it was her best… the old beldame… she screeched at me, and hit out withher stick…”

“She did this?” questioned Cadfael gently, touching the swathed wound on thejongleur’s temple.