“The lad’s got talent, eh?” The elderly villager remarked to his equally elderly neighbor.
“Ah-yup.” The neighbor agreed, nodding so that his whole body rocked.
The “lad” hid her smile at the overheard comment. Though used to being mistaken for a boy, Alex still felt a thrill every time the disguise proved itself true. Two seasons past, she and Gwennie had resorted to begging in the streets; no one had wanted to see a “girl” perform magic.
But this young audience was enthralled.
A snow-white rabbit hopped between the rows of seated children. It was soon chased by a black kitten that appeared in an empty crate. The children squealed in delight and inched closer and closer to the magic – and the magician – in front of them.
With a flourish, Alex pulled the bright yellow handkerchief away from her left hand, revealing a beautiful bouquet of … dry twigs.
Alex blinked at the “bouquet” in her hand and swallowed. A shiver of ice ran down her spine and her fingers tingled.
Green buds of new leaves sprouted from the twigs, spreading out, growing.
Alex licked dry lips and stared at the leaves; she could not look at the audience. The children made no noise, the elderly grandparents whispered, their hushed words incoherent.
The green leaves turned gold, red, brown; they wilted and fell to the ground.
The shiver receded; warmth flowed through Alex’s veins once more and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air.
She peeked at the crowd.
It cheered, the clapping loud and chaotic.
Bowing deeply, so that her short dark curls fell forward to cover dark gray eyes wet with tears, she ended the show to the satisfying clink of coins in the basket.
Alex tried to smile at Gwennie, but could not make her stiff lips curve upward.
Gwennie winked back and then giggled like a young girl when an elderly man whispered something to her.
“Thank ye. Thank ye so much.” Gwennie curtseyed and held out the basket to reaching hands. “Ooh, thank ye. Yer most generous, ye are.”
Alex turned her back to the crowd and packed her props away, tucking them into the large chest strapped to the underside of the small wagon that served as home and stage.
A rainbow of only slightly faded colors beckoned the audience to the magic shows. Swirls of orange, red and blue decorated the sides of the wagon, and flapped overhead in the stripes of the canopy and banners.
Gwennie had set up their camp just outside the village, the smattering of cottages and pens ringing the wall and inner keep of Baron Humphrey’s stronghold. The keep, its single stone tower rising high above the wooden wall, was a forbidding sight. But the village, with its squat stone and thatch cottages and winding streets, was welcoming. The gates of the wall were flung open, and folks from near and far entered and exited unencumbered.
Alex blinked away tears.
Her last trick was supposed to be a bouquet of flowers that turned into a shower of petals over the children, not an unexplained bunch of dry twigs growing leaves that turned color and died.
Alex sighed and locked the prop trunk.
Mistakes – whatever – however – they happened – happened a lot lately.
She walked to the gray mule that pulled their wagon.
“’Tis a beautiful day, Murray. I’ll pick you some sweet clover and bring fresh carrots from the market. We’ll feast tonight, that I promise.” Alex patted Murray’s head. He gently nuzzled her cheek in response, blowing soft, warm air down her neck.
Alex buried her face in the mule’s warm neck and let the tears fall. She could not cry, not in public anyway, not with Gwennie still taking in coins and talking up the show.
She could not afford the good folks finding out that last trick was not planned. That it was not a trick at all, but something else, something over which Alex had no control.
Alex wiped her eyes and nose into Murray’s neck, and then on her sleeve. She put a smile on her face and forced a laughed. She skipped toward Gwennie, who was still collecting coins, smiling and nodding at those still tossing money into the basket.
“We done good today. Ooh-ay! But we done good. Twenty-five pieces at last count, and they’s still comin’ in.” Gwennie grinned. Her remaining teeth were yellowed, a couple of wide gaps showed where some had been knocked out. Alex couldn’t remember ever seeing Gwennie with all of them. Wrinkles creased her furrowed cheeks at the corners of her mouth. “’Course, it’ll be less once we pay the taxes due on it, but we’d be payin’ taxes no matter’n what we brung in.”
Alex no longer asked Gwennie how old she was; the answer was always the same. Gwennie claimed to have long ago lost track of her age, but she could remember when Old King Solomon ruled. This was before his son, King Matthieu, had been given the throne, and it had been his grandson, King Edric, who had disappeared ten years hence. The missing king had left his younger brother, Rolando, to rule, taxing the people nearly out of cottage and farm.
Alex gave her a one-armed hug, her arm easily fitting over Gwennie’s stooped shoulders without bending or stretching. Alex planted a kiss on the old woman’s graying temple, gently patting the tightly woven bun on the back of her head.
“I think I did well today,” Alex said.
“Ah-yup, ye did. Ye did everything ye planned, no surprises like yesterday.” Gwennie wagged a finger at Alex.
Alex flushed. It seemed that even Gwennie did not realize that the twigs and leaves had not been planned.
Alex changed the subject. “I’m off to the market. I think we’ll celebrate our good fortune tonight.”
Gwennie giggled again. “Just ye remember: I love them sugared dates sold by that dark-skinned man in the end stall.”
“I’ll remember.” Alex left with a quick wave to Gwennie and a slight bow to her lingering patrons. She grabbed a deep basket from just inside the wagon door and ran off toward the village.
The guards at the gate smiled and tipped their heads at Alex. Though they wore swords, the swords stayed in their scabbards, hung from wide leather belts. The two men talked and laughed and joked.
Alex smiled in return, bowed, and entered the village proper. A few goats and chickens wandered the wide main street and dodged the carts and wagons that rumbled past. Men and women stayed to the sides to avoid the ruts and dung that marked the middle of the track.
The festival vendors were set up in the courtyard – the wide area outside the main doors to the keep. A jousting ring sat outside the wall and matches were held each day of the festival. Alex enjoyed watching the competitions. She couldn’t wait to watch the final matches the following day.
The market was a throng of haggling vendors that plied their wares. Pigs squealed and children laughed. The sounds blended with the clang of the blacksmith, the slap of the men curing leather, and the crack of the whip in the animal pens.
Alex loved the market. Spices from faraway lands mingled with the smell of fresh, hearth-baked bread. Exotic fruits decorated the stalls, their brilliant colors as stimulating and imaginative as their fragrances. Many-colored fabrics, some so thin you could see through them, others dense to keep out the weather, were displayed everywhere. Silver, gold and copper glinted in the sun, nestled between rubies, emeralds and sapphires that seemed to glow from within in the sunlight.
Yes, at the market, silver jewelry, leather goods and the softest of silks were sold next to chickens and geese, pickled eggs and savory meat pies.
Alex weaved through the crowd.
“Hello, handsome.” A young girl, her face painted and her pale skin displayed in the deep vee of her dress, batted her heavily lashed eyes at Alex and ogled the heavy bag of coins that hung from her belt.
Alex cleared her throat and spoke low. “Hello.” She bowed and kept moving.
“I can give you a discount.”
Alex turned back.
The girl batted her lashes again and swayed her hips back and forth.
“Sorry, not interested.” Head down, Alex pushed her way through the crowd, one hand holding secure to her gold.
Alex knew that it was only Gwennie and a talent for magical entertainment that had kept her from a similar fate. Alex looked around at the young maidens hanging on the arms of young men; the young men purchasing trinkets and sweet meats for the young women, who laughed softly and batted their eyelashes playfully. A small part of Alex, deeply hidden so that even Gwennie did not know about it, wanted to wear a skirt and bat her eyes at a young man.
“Ahem!”
The icy voice came from a woman in a tall hat and thickly ruffled vest. She carried a tiny dragon on her arm, a lead in her other hand attached to the gem-studded collar on its neck.
“Pardon me, ma’am.” Alex bowed deeply and swept her hat from her head to touch the ground at the lady’s feet. “I must pay better attention to where I wander.”
“Vagrants.” The woman swept past Alex, and the little dragon sneered. It panted, perched on the lady’s arm, showing crooked, pointed teeth. “I must speak to Baron Humphrey about getting rid of them. They taint the very air with their odor.”
Alex glared after the woman and her rat-sized basket dragon, and crushed her now-dusty cap back on her head. It was time to concentrate on buying the wares she sought. She could not wait to get away from the market.
She bought the promised clover and carrots for Murray, and then the sugared dates for Gwennie. The foreign proprietor waggled his brows at the treat for Alex’s “sweetheart.” Alex had to bow her farewell several times before making her escape.
She also bought boiled quail eggs, and lamb and potato pies; a loaf of fresh dark brown bread, dotted with rich cheese and herbs; and a small pot of fresh, sweet butter. The scents mingled and mixed, making her mouth water. She wanted to get back to the wagon and eat.
Alex heard shouting just ahead. The large crowd’s jeering and cheering announced that someone was protesting. She wound her way through the throng of people, ducking a few flying fists. She stopped near the front, close enough to hear without suffering permanent damage to her person.
A middle-aged man, dressed well enough that Alex decided he was either a successful merchant or a member of the Baron’s staff, stood on a small, raised platform. “We must take a stance against these additional taxes!”
The crowd cheered.
“Baron Humphrey needs our support when he confronts King Rolando!” The crowd cheered again.
“We must fight the tyranny of this present regime and bring equality back to our kingdom!”
The crowd roared its approval, arms waving and fists pounding the air.
“We must find out what happened to King Edric and Queen Alina.” There was yet more roaring from the crowd; some even stomped their feet.
“We must prove that King Rolando is a usurper to the throne!”
The crowd began to push forward, and Alex decided that it was time to leave. Holding her basket close, Alex made her way back through the crowd, once again ducking fists and dodging bodies.
Looking back, the crowd completely surrounded the speaker and animated conversations were taking place on the fringe – Alex could see the moving mouths and the nodding heads, hear the occasional shout and slap on the back.
So, Alex thought, Baron Humphrey was set against King Rolando. Alex thought briefly that perhaps she and Gwennie should stay here, but dismissed it as quickly as the thought popped into her head.
Her lips pursed, Alex hurried through the market, looking for the vendors she needed. She no longer wanted to linger in the crowds.
This festival had a good number of merchants and visitors, probably due to Baron Humphrey’s generous relaxing of King Rolando’s tax burden. Alex smirked; she and Gwennie would be keeping a bit more of their take today than if they had collected it elsewhere.
Author of Fantasy for Middlers 