The End of Time by Avi Page B

spoke French. There were peasants, too, with baskets of food to sell. The captain reminded all that the city gates closed when the night bells rang for compline and would not open again until prime. No exceptions would be made.
    “Boy! Step forward!” came the cry when it was my turn. I took a deep breath, told myself not to be fearful, and walked forward.
    The captain looked down at me with hostile eyes.“Quickly, boy! What brings you here?”
    “Please, sir, I was with a group of musicians hoping to play at the wedding feast that will be given by Master Humfrey Talbot for his daughter.”
    “Why aren’t you with them?” he demanded.
    “We became separated,” I replied with a measure of truth. “Have they passed through?”
    “I’ve no idea. A fair number of musicians have arrived,” he allowed.
    “A family of five?” I said.
    “I can’t say,” he returned gruffly. “All right. Pass along! Hurry!”
    Much relieved, I hastened forward and finally entered the city of Calais.
    After being in the open for so long, I was overwhelmed by the swarming city. The people were like penned sheep, a mass of men, women, children as well as horses and oxen. Citizens were generally of the poorer sort, but I could see numbers who were wealthy. They were all clothed in brown or black, with an occasional priest in white. Here and there a rich person arrayed in brilliantly colored cloth passed by, leading well-dressed servants.
    The streets were stone paved while the closely built houses were timber framed, plastered with white oryellow-brown clay. These houses were generally two stories high, although a few buildings had a third level hanging over the street. Many buildings bore flags and banners, as well as signs proclaiming the goods sold within, such as bread, tools, shoes, or cloth. Crowds of people were buying and selling, crying, “Hot pies, hot!” “Wine of Gascony!” “Flanders caps!” “Fresh water!” Armed soldiers strutted about like big, plump geese, and people made way for them. Over all was an intense city stench—dung, rot, bread, ale, and sweat.
    Great Wexley’s streets had gone all which ways. In Calais, however, they ran in straight lines. Even so, when I first entered and began to wander, I kept coming upon the outer walls. Once I came upon a corner where walls joined. A round tower was set there, its entryway open, revealing stone steps that led to the ramparts.
    At length I crossed over two narrow streets and stepped into a huge market area, far longer than it was wide, dominated by a tall central tower. At the far end of the market was a huge and bulky fortress.
    The main market was crowded with stalls, tents, and pavilions of all sizes. Here was selling of a different order than on the streets: huge bales of sheep’s wool were everywhere, some open, some tightly wrapped with cord.Merchants and tradesmen were bargaining in loud voices. I saw many coins exchanged and heard the clicking abacuses as accounts were reckoned. For the most part, English was being spoken. But I heard French, as well as other tongues unknown to me.
    While the wool market was a major part of the trade, there was another large section in which quantities of fish were being sold. Some was fresh, but much was salted away in barrels. Then there were other parts where quantities of food, pottery, baskets, and clothing were offered.
    I had never seen such a crowded place, not even Great Wexley. The throng was so thick, I hardly knew where to turn. Even so, I kept searching—often having to push my way through—constantly looking for members of Elena’s family.
    Then, above the clamor, cries, and shouts, I recognized that skirling bagpipe sound. I had little doubt it was Rauf and the family. How different it sounded to me now! I hated these people. How then to explain the joy and relief I felt? It took me by surprise.
    I followed the sound, and sure enough I spied them—encircled by a crowd—playing their instruments.