Merthin understood her reluctance, but urged her on. “We have to accept this,” he said. “If we ignore what’s happening, we could end up with Elfric in charge. He would be a disaster – he might even withdraw the application for the borough charter.”

That decided her. “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s find Dick.”

Dick Brewer had several carts in different locations in the fairground. Each bore a huge barrel. His children, grandchildren and in-laws were selling ale from the barrels as fast as they could pour it. Caris and Merthin found him setting an example by drinking a large pot of his own brew while he watched his family making money for him. They took him aside and explained what was going on.

Dick said to Caris: “When your father dies, I suppose his fortune will be divided equally between you and your sister?”

“Yes.” Edmund had already told Caris that this was in his will.

“When Alice’s inheritance is added to Elfric’s existing wealth, he will be very rich.”

Caris realized that half the money she was making from her scarlet cloth might go to her sister. She had not thought of this before, because she had not thought about her father dying. It came as a shock. Money itself was not important to her, but she did not want to help Elfric become alderman. “It’s not just a question of who is the richest man,” she said. “We need someone who will stand up for the merchants.”

“Then you must put up a rival candidate,” Dick said.

“Will you stand?” she asked him directly.

He shook his head. “Don’t bother trying to persuade me. At the end of this week I’m handing over to my eldest son. I’m planning to spend the rest of my days drinking beer instead of brewing it.” He took a long draught from his tankard and belched contentedly.

Caris felt she had to accept that: he seemed quite sure. She said: “Who do you think we might approach?”

“There’s only one real possibility,” he said. “You.”

Caris was astonished. “Me! Why?”

“You’re the driving force behind the campaign for a borough charter. Your fiancé’s bridge has saved the Fleece Fair, and your cloth business has pretty much rescued the town’s prosperity after the wool slump. You’re the child of the existing alderman and, although it’s not an inherited office, people think leaders breed leaders. And they’re right. You’ve actually been acting as alderman for almost a year, ever since your father’s powers started to fail.”

“Has the town ever had a woman alderman?”

“Not as far as I know. Nor one as young as you. Both these things will count heavily against you. I’m not saying you’re going to win. I’m telling you no one else has a better chance of beating Elfric.”

Caris had a faintly dizzy feeling. Was it possible? Could she do the job? What about her vow to become a healer? Were there not many other people in town who would be better than she as alderman? “What about Mark Webber?” she said.

“He’d be good, especially with that shrewd wife of his at his side. But people in this town still think of Mark as a poor weaver.”

“He’s prosperous now.”

“Thanks to your scarlet cloth. But people are suspicious of new money. They would just say Mark is a jumped-up weaver. They want an alderman from a well-established family – someone whose father was rich, and preferably grandfather too.”

Caris wanted to beat Elfric, but she did not feel sure of her ability. She thought of her father’s patience and shrewdness, his hearty conviviality, his inexhaustible energy. Did she have any such qualities? She looked at Merthin.

He said: “You would be the best alderman the town has ever had.”

His unhesitating confidence decided her. “All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Godwyn invited Elfric to dine with him on the Friday of the fair. He ordered an expensive dinner: swan cooked with ginger and honey. Philemon served them, and sat down to eat with them.

The citizens had decided to elect a new alderman and, in a remarkably short time, two candidates had emerged as the principal contestants: Elfric and Caris.

Godwyn did not like Elfric, but he was useful. He was not a particularly good builder, but he had successfully ingratiated himself with Prior Anthony, and thereby gained the contract for cathedral repairs. When Godwyn took office he had seen in Elfric a servile toady and had kept him on. Elfric was not well liked, but he either employed or subcontracted most of the building craftsmen and suppliers in town, and they in their turn courted him in the hope of work. Having won his confidence, they all wanted him to continue in a position where he could grant them favours. And that gave him a power base.

“I don’t like uncertainty,” Godwyn said.

Elfric tasted the swan and grunted appreciatively. “In what context?”

“The election of a new alderman.”

“By its nature, an election is uncertain – unless there is only one candidate.”

“Which would be my preference.”

“Mine, too, provided that candidate was me.”

“That’s what I’m suggesting.”

Elfric looked up from his dinner. “Really?”

“Tell me, Elfric – how badly do you want to be alderman?”

Elfric swallowed his mouthful. “I want it,” he said. His voice sounded a little hoarse, and he slurped some wine. “I deserve it,” he went on, a note of indignation creeping into his tone. “I’m as good as any of them, am I not? Why should I not be alderman?”

“Would you proceed with the application for a borough charter?”

Elfric stared at him. Thoughtfully, he said: “Are you asking me to withdraw it?”

“If you’re elected alderman, yes.”

“Are you offering to help me get elected?”

“Yes.”

“But how?”

“By eliminating the rival candidate.”

Elfric looked sceptical. “I don’t see how you could achieve that.”

Godwyn nodded to Philemon, who said: “I believe Caris is a heretic.”

Elfric dropped his knife. “You’re going to try Caris as a witch?”

“You must not tell anyone about this,” Philemon said. “If she hears about it beforehand, she may flee.”

“As Mattie Wise did.”

“I have let some townspeople believe that Mattie has been captured, and it is she who will be tried on Saturday at the ecclesiastical court. But, at the last minute, a different person will be accused.”

Elfric nodded. “And, as it’s an ecclesiastical court, there is conveniently no need for indictments or juries.” He turned to Godwyn. “And you will be judge.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Godwyn said. “Bishop Richard will preside. So we must prove our point.”

“Have you any evidence?” Elfric said sceptically.

Godwyn replied: “Some, but we’d like more. What we already have would be plenty if the accused were some old woman with no family or friends, like Crazy Nell. But Caris is well known and comes from a wealthy and influential family, as I need hardly tell you.”

Philemon put in: “It’s extremely fortunate for us that her father is too ill to leave his bed – God has ordained it so that he will not be able to defend her.”

Godwyn nodded. “Nevertheless, she has many friends. So our evidence must be strong.”

“What have you got in mind?” said Elfric.

Philemon answered. “It would be helpful if a member of her family were to come forward and say that she had called upon the devil, or turned a crucifix upside down, or spoken to some presence in an empty room.”

For a moment, Elfric looked as if he did not understand; then enlightenment dawned. “Oh!” he said. “You mean me?”

“Think very carefully before you answer.”

“You’re asking me to help send my sister-in-law to Gallows Cross.”

Godwyn said: “Your sister-in-law; my cousin. Yes.”

“All right, I’m thinking.”

Godwyn saw on Elfric’s face ambition, greed and vainglory, and he marvelled at the way God used even men’s weaknesses to His holy purpose. He could guess what Elfric was thinking. The position of alderman was a burdensome task for an unselfish man such as Edmund, who exercised his power for the benefit of the town’s merchants; but for someone with his eye on the main chance it offered endless opportunities for profit and self-aggrandizement.