The tinker ranted on and Gareth wandered off. Tink's English was difficult to understand at the best of times and hadn't improved with the drink. He took a candle from the altar and went to the porch where his cousin, David, was examining a niche in the wall.
'Take a look at that.'
David splashed something wet at him.
'Have you found more wine?'
'No. I've found Holy Water. You can get good money for that. There was a woman at the fair. She was selling it at a penny for just a little bottle. It'll cure warts and it's good for the flux. See if you can find something to put it in.'
Owen appeared by the boy's side.'
'What are you crapping on about?'
'Holy Water, Uncle. We can put it in bottles and sell it.'
'Don't be daft.' Owen pulled a face. 'It has to be in special bottles and you have to get a priest to write on it.'
'We could get Dickie Vowell to do that.'
'Don't waste your time, boyo. There's much better to be had. They've been working on the roof. There'll be lead all over the place. We'll have no trouble selling that.'
Owen opened the processional door and staggered into the abbey nave. The tinker followed, lost his footing on the steps, lurched forward and crashed against the baptismal font at the bottom. David raised his candle.
'Have a look at that.'
'What, boyo?'
'The font. It rocked when the tinker hit it. We could take it away. Find a church that doesn't have one and sell it to them.'
'Where we going to find a church like that?'
'All Hallows doesn't have a font.'
'Don't be daft, boyo. It already belongs to them.'
'So what's it doing in here?'
'The monks took it.'
'Verily.' The tinker staggered to his feet. 'The foul brethren of this accursed Benedictine abbey stole the ancestral font of the good people of Sherborne. The Lord God has brought us here to right a great wrong.'
Owen grabbed the little man by his tunic.
'What you going on about?'
'We can return what was wrongly taken.'
'You mean take the font back into All Hallows?'
'Aye, Brother.'
Owen considered the proposal. It had merit but there were serious logistical problems. As a young man, in the service of King Henry, he would have shrugged them off. In late middle age, he wasn't so confident of his ability to transport large pieces of masonry.