“Five.”

“Who will you accuse?”

Robert saw the problem. “So the cheat is going to get away with it?”

“Not if I can help it,” Aldred said resolutely. “But if you make a wild accusation now, they will all deny it. Worse, the villain will be forewarned and it will become difficult to bring him to justice.”

“What am I to do with all this false money?”

Aldred was unsympathetic. “You got it gambling, Robert. Have the forgeries melted down and made into a ring to wear to remind you not to gamble. Remember that the Roman soldiers at the Cross threw dice for our Lord’s clothes.”

“I’ll think about that,” Robert said sulkily.

Edgar doubted that Robert would melt down the counterfeit coins. More likely he would spend them in ones and twos so that their weight would not be noticed. But in fact that would suit Aldred’s purpose, Edgar saw. Robert would not tell anyone about the false money if he planned to spend it. So Wynstan would not know that his secret had been revealed.

Aldred turned to Wyn. “May I ask you to keep this to yourself, for the same reason?” he said.

“Very well.”

“I can assure you that I’m determined to bring the culprit to justice.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Wyn. “Good luck.”

Robert said: “Amen.”

Aldred was triumphant, but he soon realized the battle was not yet won. “All the clergy at the minster obviously know about this already,” he said thoughtfully, as Edgar poled the raft upriver. “It could hardly be hidden from them. But they keep quiet, and they’re rewarded for their silence with a life of idleness and luxury.”

Edgar nodded. “The villagers, too. They probably guess that something underhand goes on there, but they’re bribed by the gifts Wynstan brings four times a year.”

“And this explains why he was so furious about my proposal to transform his corrupt minster into a god-fearing monastery. He would have to recreate the setup in some other remote village—not an easy thing to do from scratch.”

“Cuthbert must be the forger. He’s the only person with the skill to engrave the dies to make the coins.” Edgar looked uncomfortable. “He’s not such a bad man, just weak. He could never stand up to a bully like Wynstan. I almost feel sorry for him.”

They parted company at Mudeford Crossing, still keen to avoid calling attention to their association. Edgar continued upstream and Aldred rode Dismas toward Shiring by an indirect route. He was fortunate to join up with two miners driving a cartload of something that looked like coal but was in fact cassiterite, the mineral from which valuable tin was extracted. If the outlaw Ironface happened to be nearby, Aldred felt sure he would be deterred by the sight of the powerfully built miners with their iron-headed hammers.

Travelers loved to talk, but the miners did not have much to say, and Aldred was able to think at length about how he might bring Wynstan before a court and see him convicted of his crime and punished. Even with what Aldred now knew it would not be easy. The bishop would have no end of oath helpers to swear he was an honest man who told the truth.