When I left the dining room Lance was waiting for me and he told me we had a couple of hours before we need be back at the inn. As we walked into the village we heard sounds of merriment. The fair was set up in a field where there were brightly-coloured booths and such crowds that I guessed many people had some in from the neighbouring countryside.
Lance took my arm. ‘Keep close to me,’ he said. ‘At fairs like this robbers abound. Keep your hands on your purse and if anyone attempts to snatch it, shout and I’ll prevent the robbery. Above all, keep close and don’t stray from your protector.’
‘Who is you… Sir Lancelot!’
‘I have a confession to make to you. That is my real name. As soon as I became aware of its implications—that was when I was seven years old, for I was a very intelligent child, as you have gathered, and the quality has stayed with me in later life—I changed it. Lancelot! Imagine. Lance is so much more suitable. There is something rather aggressive about a lance. A weapon of war.’
‘Lancelot was aggressive at times, I believe. And then there was all that trouble over Guinevere.’
‘All the same, I should hate to go through life with the label of knighthood attached to me.’
I laughed.
‘You are amused?’ he asked.
‘We seem to get into discussions about matters which are of no real importance.’
‘My name is of the utmost importance to me… and I hope it will be to you. As for those Spanish leather shoes you were so anxious about, I think I learned something about you through your attitude to the Earl’s lady and that is what interests me, my dear Clarissa.’
‘I fancy you might be a little like Sir Lancelot after all,’ I said. ‘What is that smell?’
‘An ox… roasting. A necessary feature of such occasions. They’ll be selling it at so much a slice.’
‘I don’t think I should want any of it.’
‘But you’ll have a fairing, won’t you? For I shall insist on that.’
‘I have an idea that you will not have to be too insistent.’
I was fascinated by the fair. I had never seen anything like it. I felt I was stepping out into adventure. But perhaps this had something to do with the company of Lance Clavering. Perhaps it was because he did not treat me as a child.
The autumn sun was faintly warming and it gave a glow to goods displayed the stalls. There was one section for the cattle. Horses were for sale, too, but it was the stalls that fascinated me. Together Lance and I inspected the saddles, the boots, other clothing, pots, brushes, ornaments, potatoes in their jackets roasting in a brazier; there were chestnuts, too. Lance bought a bag of these and we munched contentedly.
This was a special fair, Lance told me. There were sideshows with waxworks, dwarfs and conjurers. There was one extremely fat woman and a very thin one and these caused great amusement because they were meant to remind the people of the King’s mistresses whom he had brought with him from Germany. They were not very respectful towards their new monarch.
We went into one tent and watched a puppet show; we applauded wildly with the rest of the company and I noticed that Lance’s clothes attracted some attention, but the people were used to gentry looking in at the fair, so his presence was not as unusual as it might have been.
He took me to the fairing stall and asked me to choose what I liked. There were sweetmeats tied up with ribbons making lovers’ knots—most of them heart-shaped, or in the form of some animal. There was a dog who looked rather like Damon. I hesitated over that; and then I saw a sugar mouse; it had bright pink eyes, a long tail and about its neck was a piece of blue ribbon. I was reminded immediately of the sugar mouse I had had all those years ago when Hessenfield had held up the coach and I had given him the tail of my mouse because although I had not known he was my father I had loved him.
Lance saw that I was looking at the mouse, so he took it, and with it a heart in pink marzipan decorated with lovers’ knots. He insisted on buying that as well so we came away from the stall with the mouse and the heart.
He wanted to hear why I liked the mouse, and I told him.
‘Ah yes,’ he said, ‘Hessenfield.’ And for the first time since I had known him he looked a little serious.
We went on through the fair. I wanted to stop time passing. It was a magic morning and I was so happy to be there. I felt excited because I felt that anything could happen.
But as though fate was reminding me that it is not the way of life to give happiness all the time, I saw the hiring stall. I wished I had not passed that way as I looked at those sad people offering themselves for hire. They were people who had failed to find work in any other way. There was an old man who had desperation in his eyes and there was a girl of about my age. I felt it must be the ultimate humiliation to have to offer oneself in this way. There were others there too—some carrying the tools of their trade to tell prospective employers what they could do. I had never seen such expressions of mingled hope and desperation. Lance noticed my reaction, and, taking my arm, gently turned me away from the hiring stall.
I walked very quietly, not seeing the stalls of pots and pans, the geese which had been cooked and were browning over a fire; I did not hear the quack doctors shouting of the benefits and miracles performed by their pills for lucky purchasers. I could only think of the desperate expression in the eyes of the old man and the girl who could have been myself.
‘You have a tender heart, little Clarissa,’ said Lance, ‘and you have a great gift for putting yourself in the place of others. It is rare. Keep it. It will make life richer and fuller for you.’
So there was after all a serious side to his nature, I reasoned, to talk like that and to mean what he said, for I sensed that he did. We came to the boxing booth.
‘We’ll go in here,’ said Lance, and I saw then that his seriousness had vanished. An excitement seemed to grip him.
We were inside a large tent. In this a ring had been set up and two men were fighting each other. There were forms on -which we sat.
It was warm in the tent. I could see the sweat glistening on the bodies of the fighters, who were bare to the waist. I found it rather repulsive and would have liked to leave but when I turned to Lance I saw the rapt expression on his face as he watched the men pummelling each other.
After what seemed a long time to me, one was knocked down. The cheers shook the tent and a man came forward and held up the victor’s hand. He smiled at the crowd although there was blood on his forehead.
Now someone was calling out: ‘Place your bets,’ and Lance rose and joined the people about a man who was seated a table. Money was exchanged.
Then two men came out and began to fight. I found it all rather nauseating, but I could not take my eyes from Lance, who was clearly engrossed in what was taking place and seemed to have forgotten I was there. When the fight was over he shrugged his shoulders and when I suggested we leave he reluctantly rose and we did so.
‘You don’t care much for the sport of kings,’ he said.
‘I thought that was horse racing.’
‘It depends on the king… which he prefers, you see. I have not heard our noble George’s likes in the matter.’
‘What were you doing at the table? We had already paid to go in.’
‘I was placing my bet.’
‘Bet? What bet?’
‘On the winner. It was a little gamble.’
‘So you gambled on which one of those men would win?’
‘Yes… and on the wrong one.’
‘So you lost some money.’
‘Alas, I did.’
‘Oh dear, I hope not too much.’
‘Five pounds.’
I was aghast. It seemed a great deal of money to me. ‘Five pounds. That is terrible.’
‘Sweet Clarissa, to be so concerned. But think what would have happened if my man had won.’
‘You would have got a lot of money then, I suppose.’
‘Fifty perhaps… fifty for five. Th
ink of it. Wouldn’t that have been wonderful?’
‘But you lost.’
‘Ah, but I might have won.’
I was silent. Then I said: ‘It was a great risk. And you lost.’
‘That’s what makes it exciting. If you knew you were going to win all the time where would be the thrill?’
‘It would be more thrilling surely to win all the time.’
‘You haven’t the gambler’s spirit, I can see.’
I did not answer. A faint cloud had settled over the outing. I had been so gloriously happy. Then I had seen the hiring stall and now Lance had lost five pounds. These two events shadowed my morning.
It was time in any case to return to the inn. I was surprised to see the man in the brown frieze coat was still there, for previously he had been making such a fuss about his horse being ready in time.
Within a short while we were on the road again.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1979 by Philippa Carr
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4804-0373-4
This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media
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THE DAUGHTERS OF ENGLAND
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Song of the Siren Page 42
