Edgar decided to speak to Seric about it. Seric was in the alehouse, talking to a shaven-headed man in a black robe who must be the village priest. Edgar waited until he left, then followed him, saying to his brothers: “I’ll see you at dawn.”

He followed Seric to a house next to the orchard. Seric turned at the door and said: “Where are you off to?”

“I’m going to spend the night on the riverbank. I want to guard my stones.”

Seric shrugged. “Probably unnecessary, but I won’t discourage you. And it’s a mild night.”

“May I ask you something in confidence?”

“Come inside.”

A gray-haired woman sat by the fire feeding a small child with a spoon. Edgar raised his eyebrows: Seric and his wife seemed too old to be the parents. Seric said: “My wife, Eadgyth, and our grandson, Ealdwine. Our daughter died in childbirth, and her husband went to Shiring to be a man-at-arms for the ealdorman.”

That explained the household.

“I wanted to ask you . . .” Edgar glanced at Eadgyth.

Seric said: “You can speak freely.”

“Is Gab honest?”

Seric was not surprised by the question. “I can’t say. Has he tried to cheat you?”

“Not me, no. But I bought ten stones, and I noticed a new stick with only five notches.”

Seric said: “Let me put it this way: if I were asked to swear to Gab’s honesty, I would refuse.”

Edgar nodded. That was enough. Seric could prove nothing, but he had little doubt. “Thank you,” said Edgar, and he took his leave.

The raft was pulled up on the beach. The brothers had not loaded it: that would have made theft of the stones too easy. Edgar lay down on the raft and pulled his cloak around him. He might not sleep, but perhaps that was no bad thing when he was guarding something valuable.

Brindle whimpered, and Edgar drew the dog under his cloak. Brindle would keep him warm, and warn him if anyone approached.

Edgar now had to tell Ragna that she was being defrauded by Gab and Dudda. He could go to Shiring tomorrow, he figured. Erman and Eadbald could manage the raft on the downstream trip, and he could go home by road, via the town. He needed lime for the mortar, and he could buy it in Shiring and carry it home on his shoulder.

Edgar slept fitfully and woke at first light. Soon afterward, Erman and Eadbald appeared, bringing Leaf’s flagon topped up with Outhenham ale and a big loaf of rye bread to eat on the way. Edgar told them he was going to Shiring to buy lime.

“So we’ll have to pole the raft back without your help!” Erman said indignantly.

“It won’t cost you much effort,” Edgar said patiently. “It’s downstream. All you’ll have to do is keep the raft away from the banks.”

The three of them pushed the raft into the water, still tied up, then loaded it with the stones. Edgar insisted on an interlocking pile, so that the cargo would not shift in transit, but in fact the river was so calm that it was not really necessary.