into the outer bailey, Carys had relaxed enough to look around, and her eyes grew bigger and bigger as she did. There were more people here than in most villages, and the pens held more animals than she had ever seen, except at a great fair. In fact, the bailey seemed to hold a fair; she could hear the cling-clang of a smith’s hammer and smell fresh-baked bread and hot pies, which made her swallow a sudden rush of saliva. And there were booths where all sorts of things were displayed—cloth, leatherwork, and carved bowls and cups. Wood and bone carvers, Carys thought, made combs as well as bowls and cups.
“Oh, Telor,” she breathed, “is there something I could do to get a comb?”
Telor reached back and patted her arm, since he dared not look around while trying to direct Teithiwr through the crowd. “I think I will do well enough here to get you a comb and other things also.” His voice was cheerful and expectant but then sharpened as he added, “It is not at all needful for you to do anything, certainly not while we are at Combe. Remember, you promised to keep out of sight unless I call on you to perform.”
Telor had also been looking around with pleasure. The noisy crowd was a good sign. Most of the merchants were local people from Chippasham or those who always traveled from place to place, but some were from Bath and Calne, and others came from as far away as Bristol and Malmsbury. Those from Chippasham would not have dared stay away since they were so close to de Dunstanville and would suffer from his displeasure, but the merchants from towns farther away would have come only if they had seen or heard that the lords of their neighborhood were going to attend. That would mean the concourse of people would be large enough to make the trip profitable. And if the lords had come, there were two good reasons for de Dunstanville to be liberal, Telor thought. First, he would be in a good temper, and second, he would be ashamed to seem ungenerous when surrounded by his vassals, his peers, and, Telor hoped, even a few lords greater than he. Not to mention that the other lords would also “gift” the minstrel.
Carys’s request caught Telor at the top of that rising spiral of expectation and added to his happiness. He had a swift, pleasurable perception of how her big eyes would grow still larger with amazement and delight, her small, childish face light with joy when he gave her not only a pretty comb but perhaps shoes and stockings and a dress that was not in rags. He felt warm and content at being able to provide for her what she had seldom known—a gift of love. The phrase that came into his mind was totally unexpected, and he corrected it swiftly to “a gift of pure caritas .” On the heels of his pleasure had come the nasty pang of jealousy that sharpened his voice when he realized that she had not asked him for a comb but what she could do to get a comb. He did not really think Carys would sell her body for a comb. If that was what she intended, she would not have asked him. A different kind of anxiety made him remind her she was to stay out of sight.
Since Carys could not read Telor’s mind, there was no reason for her to protest against his order that she do nothing in Castle Combe. There was nothing much she could do until her ankle healed completely, and she herself was not sure whether the way she had phrased her question was a sly invitation for Telor to bargain a coupling against the comb. Certainly, she felt no guilt about his promise to obtain for her what she needed without that form of payment because she was confident her rope dancing would repay whatever he gave for the items. However, as they approached the drawbridge that would take them over the dry moat dividing the outer from the inner bailey and she saw that even thicker, higher walls would separate her from the cheerful fair of common folk, Carys felt fearful again.
“I can pass for a boy,” she said softly, “I swear I can. No
“Oh, Telor,” she breathed, “is there something I could do to get a comb?”
Telor reached back and patted her arm, since he dared not look around while trying to direct Teithiwr through the crowd. “I think I will do well enough here to get you a comb and other things also.” His voice was cheerful and expectant but then sharpened as he added, “It is not at all needful for you to do anything, certainly not while we are at Combe. Remember, you promised to keep out of sight unless I call on you to perform.”
Telor had also been looking around with pleasure. The noisy crowd was a good sign. Most of the merchants were local people from Chippasham or those who always traveled from place to place, but some were from Bath and Calne, and others came from as far away as Bristol and Malmsbury. Those from Chippasham would not have dared stay away since they were so close to de Dunstanville and would suffer from his displeasure, but the merchants from towns farther away would have come only if they had seen or heard that the lords of their neighborhood were going to attend. That would mean the concourse of people would be large enough to make the trip profitable. And if the lords had come, there were two good reasons for de Dunstanville to be liberal, Telor thought. First, he would be in a good temper, and second, he would be ashamed to seem ungenerous when surrounded by his vassals, his peers, and, Telor hoped, even a few lords greater than he. Not to mention that the other lords would also “gift” the minstrel.
Carys’s request caught Telor at the top of that rising spiral of expectation and added to his happiness. He had a swift, pleasurable perception of how her big eyes would grow still larger with amazement and delight, her small, childish face light with joy when he gave her not only a pretty comb but perhaps shoes and stockings and a dress that was not in rags. He felt warm and content at being able to provide for her what she had seldom known—a gift of love. The phrase that came into his mind was totally unexpected, and he corrected it swiftly to “a gift of pure caritas .” On the heels of his pleasure had come the nasty pang of jealousy that sharpened his voice when he realized that she had not asked him for a comb but what she could do to get a comb. He did not really think Carys would sell her body for a comb. If that was what she intended, she would not have asked him. A different kind of anxiety made him remind her she was to stay out of sight.
Since Carys could not read Telor’s mind, there was no reason for her to protest against his order that she do nothing in Castle Combe. There was nothing much she could do until her ankle healed completely, and she herself was not sure whether the way she had phrased her question was a sly invitation for Telor to bargain a coupling against the comb. Certainly, she felt no guilt about his promise to obtain for her what she needed without that form of payment because she was confident her rope dancing would repay whatever he gave for the items. However, as they approached the drawbridge that would take them over the dry moat dividing the outer from the inner bailey and she saw that even thicker, higher walls would separate her from the cheerful fair of common folk, Carys felt fearful again.
“I can pass for a boy,” she said softly, “I swear I can. No
Similar Books
