Wilfred’s Faire!”
Jinks executed a low bow. “Pray excuse me, my lady. I must away to
join my king. May the rest of your day be filled with boundless merriment!” He shook his cap at me and jogged off across the square,
pausing to walk on his hands as he passed the bright-eyed children.
I watched him go, then ducked my head and groaned. I couldn’t
believe that I’d slipped back into my old habits so easily. Anyone
with a particle of common sense would have blamed King Wilfred’s accident on shabby workmanship, but I’d taken my usual
detour around rational thought and driven smack-dab into an absurd assassination plot. If Jinks hadn’t intercepted me, I would have
spent half the morning crawling through plaster dust instead of savoring the sights and sounds of the fair. I was thoroughly ashamed
of myself for letting my imagination run amok yet again.
“It stops here,” I muttered determinedly, and pushed all thoughts
of sabotage from my mind.
For the next three hours I gave myself up to the fair’s enchantments, exploring the grassy lanes that ran outward from Gate house
Square. When I saw a neighbor approaching, I gave a friendly wave,
but quickly walked the other way. I wanted to be surrounded by
unfamiliar faces, for a change, and overhear gossip I didn’t already
know by heart.
70 Nancy Atherton
The lanes were lined with shop stalls, which gave the fair the
air of a vibrant village. Some of the stalls were no bigger than closets, but others were split-level affairs as large as my living room.
All of them had awnings or small roofs jutting over the lanes, presumably to shelter fairgoers from the inevitable summer showers.
The vendors wore costumes made of cotton and linen rather than
velvet and satin, and they spoke a semimedieval patois that was occasionally difficult to understand, but always entertaining.
The lanes wound through the woods and crisscrossed one another unpredictably to form a delightful maze that guaranteed surprises around every bend. I would have willingly lost myself in the
labyrinth, but the fair’s layout was more orderly than it seemed: All
of the side alleys eventually took me back to Broad Street, a wide
thoroughfare that formed the fair’s main boulevard, where larger and
more elaborate stalls could be found.
Strolling performers popped up everywhere I turned. I encountered the juggler and the lute player I’d seen outside the gate house
as well as a pair of singing pickpockets, a troupe of belly dancers, a
flock of winged fairies, miscellaneous beggars—who whined and
groveled amusingly until coins were flung at them—and a stilt walker
dressed as a tree, who’d clearly taken his inspiration from the ents,
J. R. R. Tolkien’s imaginary shepherds of the forest.
Other acts performed on small, open-air stages before audiences
seated on long wooden benches. Penny Lane ended at the Farthing
Stage, where Merlot the Magnificent performed dazzling feats of
legerdemain five times a day. Harmony Lane led to the Minstrels’
Stage, which featured singers, musicians, and dancers, and Ludlow
Lane led to the Shire Stage, where acrobats, jugglers, and comic
acts held sway. The modest petting zoo was very near the Shire
Stage, and the animals’ varied grunts, squawks, and aromas prompted
predictably earthy but nonetheless amusing improvisations from the
nimble-witted performers.
The Great Hall turned out to be yet another stage, but the entertainers who performed there didn’t sing, dance, juggle, or tell jokes.
Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon
71
Its gilded sign proclaimed that it was used exclusively by King Wilfred during royal ceremonies, such as weddings and the conferring of knighthoods. Its main feature was a red-carpeted dais upon
which sat a magnificent gilded throne.
Pudding Lane was populated by food vendors selling savory
meat pies, sausage rolls, chips, fruit tarts, chocolates, honey cakes,
and other goodies, as well as cider,
Jinks executed a low bow. “Pray excuse me, my lady. I must away to
join my king. May the rest of your day be filled with boundless merriment!” He shook his cap at me and jogged off across the square,
pausing to walk on his hands as he passed the bright-eyed children.
I watched him go, then ducked my head and groaned. I couldn’t
believe that I’d slipped back into my old habits so easily. Anyone
with a particle of common sense would have blamed King Wilfred’s accident on shabby workmanship, but I’d taken my usual
detour around rational thought and driven smack-dab into an absurd assassination plot. If Jinks hadn’t intercepted me, I would have
spent half the morning crawling through plaster dust instead of savoring the sights and sounds of the fair. I was thoroughly ashamed
of myself for letting my imagination run amok yet again.
“It stops here,” I muttered determinedly, and pushed all thoughts
of sabotage from my mind.
For the next three hours I gave myself up to the fair’s enchantments, exploring the grassy lanes that ran outward from Gate house
Square. When I saw a neighbor approaching, I gave a friendly wave,
but quickly walked the other way. I wanted to be surrounded by
unfamiliar faces, for a change, and overhear gossip I didn’t already
know by heart.
70 Nancy Atherton
The lanes were lined with shop stalls, which gave the fair the
air of a vibrant village. Some of the stalls were no bigger than closets, but others were split-level affairs as large as my living room.
All of them had awnings or small roofs jutting over the lanes, presumably to shelter fairgoers from the inevitable summer showers.
The vendors wore costumes made of cotton and linen rather than
velvet and satin, and they spoke a semimedieval patois that was occasionally difficult to understand, but always entertaining.
The lanes wound through the woods and crisscrossed one another unpredictably to form a delightful maze that guaranteed surprises around every bend. I would have willingly lost myself in the
labyrinth, but the fair’s layout was more orderly than it seemed: All
of the side alleys eventually took me back to Broad Street, a wide
thoroughfare that formed the fair’s main boulevard, where larger and
more elaborate stalls could be found.
Strolling performers popped up everywhere I turned. I encountered the juggler and the lute player I’d seen outside the gate house
as well as a pair of singing pickpockets, a troupe of belly dancers, a
flock of winged fairies, miscellaneous beggars—who whined and
groveled amusingly until coins were flung at them—and a stilt walker
dressed as a tree, who’d clearly taken his inspiration from the ents,
J. R. R. Tolkien’s imaginary shepherds of the forest.
Other acts performed on small, open-air stages before audiences
seated on long wooden benches. Penny Lane ended at the Farthing
Stage, where Merlot the Magnificent performed dazzling feats of
legerdemain five times a day. Harmony Lane led to the Minstrels’
Stage, which featured singers, musicians, and dancers, and Ludlow
Lane led to the Shire Stage, where acrobats, jugglers, and comic
acts held sway. The modest petting zoo was very near the Shire
Stage, and the animals’ varied grunts, squawks, and aromas prompted
predictably earthy but nonetheless amusing improvisations from the
nimble-witted performers.
The Great Hall turned out to be yet another stage, but the entertainers who performed there didn’t sing, dance, juggle, or tell jokes.
Aunt Dimity Slays the Dragon
71
Its gilded sign proclaimed that it was used exclusively by King Wilfred during royal ceremonies, such as weddings and the conferring of knighthoods. Its main feature was a red-carpeted dais upon
which sat a magnificent gilded throne.
Pudding Lane was populated by food vendors selling savory
meat pies, sausage rolls, chips, fruit tarts, chocolates, honey cakes,
and other goodies, as well as cider,
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