“I recollect,” said Gab, putting the tally stick in his pocket. Edgar noticed that he had cut only five notches, although he had sold ten stones: perhaps he was going to finish it later. “I don’t remember you, but then you would have been a small child.”

Edgar studied Gab. His hands were covered with old scars, no doubt from his work. He was probably wondering how he could exploit this ignorant youth. Edgar said firmly: “The price was two pence per stone delivered.”

“Was it, now?” Gab said with pretended skepticism.

“If it’s still the same, we want about two hundred more.”

“I’m not sure we can do it for the same price. Things have changed.”

“In that case, I have to return and speak with my master.” Edgar did not want to do this. He was determined to go back and report success. But he could not allow Gab to overcharge him. Edgar mistrusted Gab. Perhaps the man was only negotiating, but Edgar had a feeling he might be dishonest.

The quarryman coughed. “Last time we dealt with Degbert Baldhead, the dean. He didn’t like spending his money.”

“My master, Dreng, is the same. They’re brothers.”

“What’s the stone for?”

“I’m building a brewhouse for Dreng. His wife makes the ale and she keeps burning the wooden buildings down.”

“You’re building it?”

Edgar lifted his chin. “Yes.”

“You’re very young. But Dreng wants a cheap builder, I suppose.”

“He wants cheap stone, too.”

“Did you bring the money?”

I may be young, Edgar thought, but I’m not stupid. “Dreng will pay when the stones arrive.”

“He’d better.”

Edgar guessed the quarrymen would carry the stones, or transport them in a cart, as far as the river, then load them on a raft for the journey downstream to Dreng’s Ferry. It would take them several trips, depending on the size of the raft.

Gab said: “Where are you spending the night? In the tavern?”

“I told you, I’ve no money.”

“You’ll have to sleep here, then.”

“Thank you,” said Edgar.

Gab’s wife was Beaduhild but he called her Bee. She was more welcoming than her husband, and invited Edgar to share the evening meal. As soon as his bowl was empty, he realized how tired he was after his long walk, and he lay down on the floor and fell asleep immediately.

In the morning he said to Gab: “I’m going to need a hammer and chisel like yours, so that I can shape the stones to my needs.”

“So you are,” said Gab.

“May I look at your tools?”

Gab shrugged.

Edgar picked up the wooden hammer and hefted it. It was big and heavy, but otherwise simple and crude, and he could easily make one like it. The smaller, iron-headed hammer was more carefully made, its handle firmly wedged to the head. Best of all was the iron chisel, with a wide, blunt blade and a spreading top that looked like a daisy. Edgar could forge a copy in Cuthbert’s workshop. Cuthbert might not like sharing his space, but Dreng would get Degbert to insist, and Cuthbert would have no choice.