“A wisp of smoke came up from a hole in the thatch. In the uncertain light of dawn, Matthew could make out the farmer moving around in the muddy enclosure next to a small shed. Matthew smelled pig dung and chicken dung and the more wholesome scent of sodden earth and thatch. He walked down into the bottom and was almost to the farmer’s house before he hailed its owner. The farmer turned quickly and looked in Matthew’s direction. “Fair day, Goodman Brewster.” “Less fair than yesterday...,” replied the farmer, scowling as though Matthew were somehow responsible for the weather, which had been wretched for a week, with no sun and almost constant rain. Giles Brewster was a tall, rawboned man with shaggy dark hair and a jaw bestubbled with a growth of beard. The sleeves of his loose-fitting shirt were rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms. He stared at Matthew suspiciously, obviously wondering what the town constable wanted, tom be- tween curiosity and annoyance at having his work interrupted.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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