St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

  Jesse stepped back as if he’d been jabbed with a dagger. ‘Dammit no,’ he said sharply and added in an angry aside to his uncle, ‘I’ll chin his curlo first.’

  Gib guffawed and translated for the Professor. ‘My nephew’s shy. He says he’d cut your throat rather than bare his chest for you.’

  The old man threw up his hands. ‘But he doesn’t understand. Nobody ever understands. My interest is purely professional. He’s just a bundle of muscles and sinews as far as I’m concerned. Tell him that.’

  The message was conveyed to Jesse who shook his head even more vehemently. There was no way he was going to agree to the strange request. At length the Professor sighed and said, ‘Ah well, if he won’t, he won’t, but it’s a pity because I’d have paid him ten sovereigns to come to Edinburgh for a day and sit in front of my anatomy class. His musculature is magnificent.’

  ‘Musculature?’ Jesse and Gib looked suspiciously at each other and the young man shook his head vigorously. He could put ten sovereigns to good use but he wasn’t prepared to undertake the Professor’s demeaning commission to get them.

  As he turned angrily away, Thomassin came up behind him with a pewter pot in her hand and pressed it on him. ‘You must be dry, Jesse. Drink this ale,’ she said. Without thinking, he raised the pot to his lips and swigged some of the contents down while she watched with a strange smile on her face.

  When Professor Thompson and his little entourage walked away the crowd around the horses was disrupted by the arrival of an older man linking arms with a young giant who seemed immoderately excited by the sight of the horses and pushed through among the watching people to get at them. His companion tried to soothe him by saying softly, ‘Steady on Billy, just wait a bit.’

  Jesse was standing with Gib and Thomassin, all resplendent in scarlet and green and with her mother’s jewellery, when the pair approached and Jem asked, ‘Can this lad clap your horse, mister? He’s fond of horses.’ Gib looked at Billy and a frown appeared on his brow. He opened his mouth to say something but Jem forestalled him by asking, ‘Are you the Kirk Yetholm folk?’ When the answer was affirmative, he went on, ‘Is the old woman called Rachel still alive? She was one of your people.’

  It was Thomassin who answered, ‘Yes, she’s eighty-four but she’s still alive. Who wants her?’

  Jem indicated the enraptured Billy who was laying his face against the grey stallion’s neck and nuzzling his nose into its skin. ‘This lad would like to see her and I think she’d like to see him. He’s her grandson – or great-grandson maybe, I was never quite sure which.’

  The faces that turned towards Billy were astounded and Gib stepped forward exclaiming, ‘It’s the lad, it’s our Billy, you’ve grown into a big man, haven’t you? You were just a chal when I saw you last.’

  Billy looked up from his worship of the horse and said, ‘Yes, I’m big and I’m strong.’

  ‘You look strong. What’s he been feeding you on – nails?’ asked Gib with a laugh and turned back to Jem to say with a smile, ‘He’s Rachel’s great-grandson in fact and she told us she’d given him to the boxing booth man. That’s you, I guess. My word, but you’ve done a good job. We thought he’d be dead by now – one way or another.’

  Jem back smiled a little ruefully. ‘It’s not always been easy to cope with him but he’s a good lad at heart. It’s just that he doesn’t know his own strength or when to stop once he gets started. I brought him over to ask what Rachel thinks we should do with him now that he’s grown because I’m not going to be able to cope with him much longer. I’m getting on in years and it takes strength…’

  Gib took a step back as if Jem had handed him a red-hot poker. ‘Away man, you look in good shape. You’re still fit. You can keep him a bit longer, we don’t mind,’ he said in a magnanimous tone.

  Jesse stepped up beside Billy who was paying no attention to the conversation concerning him and laid an arm around the big lad’s neck, hugging his head into his chest as he said, ‘Hey, Billy, d’ye remember me? I’m Jesse. We used to play together.’ When he looked back at Jem and Gib there was a strangely stricken look in his eyes but he laughed and said, ‘He’s not much younger than me. I remember him as a bairn, he played rough even then. I’ve still got a scar on my leg where he bit me. Aw, poor Billy…’ He turned back to the smiling giant and told him, ‘I’m glad you’re still alive. We thought you were dead, Billy.’ Then he hugged the giant again.

  When they embraced, Billy clapped Jesse on the back and laughed uproariously. ‘Billy’s not dead. Billy’s fine,’ he roared.

  Watching the two of them, Jem was forcibly struck by the family likeness between them. Billy was bigger and bulkier than Jesse but he had the same curling dark hair and the same well-muscled body, although his movements were uncoordinated and his face was like a blank slate compared to Jesse’s. His eyes were clouded and confused where Jesse’s were alive and dancing. In a gesture of friendship Jesse handed Billy his pot of ale and said ‘Take some…’

  When the two men stood apart, Billy’s eye fell on Thomassin who was standing beside Gib and he went suddenly quiet with his face taking on a troubled look. Like someone trying to touch a delicate flower, he put out a tentative hand towards her but she stepped quickly away from him. It was obvious that he scared her. Jem saw the disappointed look on Billy’s face and told the girl, ‘Don’t worry, he’s all right. He won’t hurt you. He’s only trying to be friendly. Take his hand.’

  Reassured she put out her thin, dark-skinned hand and held Billy’s enormous fist. He looked down at their clasped hands and smiled, a pitiful grimace like the smile of an ape. ‘You’re pretty,’ he mumbled and flushed scarlet. She stepped back again as if he’d struck her.

  Gib saw her confusion and said to Jem, ‘Old Rachel’s over in her tent telling fortunes. Thomassin here’ll take you there. Rachel’ll be glad to see Billy again. She was right fond of him.’

  Thomassin, who had wrenched her hand from Billy’s grasp, said hurriedly, ‘Yes, come on, I’ll show you where she is. You’ll have to be quick because there’s a crowd of people waiting to be dukkered by her.’

  Rachel’s tent was made of dark green material like stained velvet and swags of tarnished gilt and tassels were looped above the entrance. It was a bell-shaped tent and from the centre pole flew a flag with the symbols of a dragon with a forked tail inside a six-pointed golden star painted on it. Propped up at the tent door was a long, green-painted wooden board with a carved top like a big tombstone. On it was written in cursive flowing black and gold letters like those that were painted along the sides of carts and coaches. Madame Fatima, Clairvoyant, Possessor of Mystic Powers, Consulted by Members of Royalty and the Nobility.

  When Thomassin shoved her head through the half-open tent flap, Rachel was leaning over a table listening to something being told to her by a tall, neatly-dressed man who looked like a superior servant. The man was saying, ‘My master wants the strongest potion you can make – he’s getting married, you see.’

  Rachel’s obsidian eyes searched the face in front of her. ‘I hope your master’s a rich man. The strongest is expensive,’ she said.

  ‘He’s rich. It must be the best. How much?’

  ‘Fifty guineas – and you can add five for yourself when you bring me the fee.’ Rachel knew perfectly well that her client was the Duke’s manservant although he had not told her his master’s name.

  ‘That’s a lot of money. You’re sure it will work?’ he asked.

  Rachel cackled. ‘It works – never fails. He’ll be like a frisky colt for his wedding day but it’ll take time to prepare. I have to find the right ingredients and that’s not easy.’ The man shivered because he was afraid of her. ‘He has time. The wedding won’t be till the end of the year, probably.’ He rose to go as if anxious to get away but Rachel put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Tell him it’s genuine magic,’ she said in a baleful voice.

  ‘He’ll want to know what’s in it.’

  She s
hook her head. ‘That knowledge is not for sale. Just tell him the things that go into it are not easy to come by – not even for a Duke. There’ll be no bargaining, either. Fifty guineas, that’s the price.’

  Hurriedly the man pushed past Thomassin and gave an audible sigh of relief when he found himself in the open air again. When he had disappeared into the crowd, the girl came farther into the tent and said, ‘Rachel, d’ye remember Billy? The man you gave him to is here and he’s brought the lad to see you.’

  The old gypsy stood up from her stool and clasped her hands together, making her dozens of bangles rattle and clink as she stepped forward. In her haste she knocked over her little table and playing cards were scattered all over the grass at her feet but she ignored them as she cried out, ‘Billy, my Billy! Bring him in, Thomassin.’

  The girl looked up at the low tent roof above her head. ‘I think it’d be best if you come out. He’s grown into a big lad.’

  ‘Take him round the back then,’ said Rachel, ‘and tell that crowd out there I’ll be starting again in half an hour. I must see Billy first.’

  When Thomassin went out to summon Billy and Jem round the back of Rachel’s tent, a line of women were patiently waiting to consult Madame Fatima. Among them were Odilie, Grace and Mary Scott.

  ‘You’ll have to wait,’ Thomassin told them. ‘Madame Fatima must stop to build up her powers again, but don’t go away ladies, she’ll be ready for you again in half an hour or maybe less… Just wait here on the grass.’ She spoke in the wheedling tone that was quite different from her normal speaking voice. As she spoke she ran her eye over the clients and thought them a poor-looking crew with nothing worth stealing on them.

  Mary Scott, next in line in front of Odilie and Grace heaved a sigh. ‘Och, what a pity. I was so looking forward to having my fortune told.’

  Her friend Elsie turned and said, ‘You still can. It’s too hot to go stravaging around, so let’s wait. We’ll sit here for a bit and maybe some of those lads that are hanging about’ll go to the ale tent and bring us a drink. Give one of them the eye.’

  Mary looked shocked. With disquiet she remembered Elsie’s account of her revels of the previous year, the aching head that lasted for three days. Mary herself did not like ale much and homemade nettle beer was strong enough for her but she dared not say so to Elsie for fear of being thought a killjoy. So she contented herself with saying, ‘Oh Elsie, you’re terrible!’ and sank down on the grass, taking off her bonnet for the heat was indeed tremendous. She hoped that her face was not scarlet. The scent of the lavender water that Aunt Lily had given her seemed to be stronger than ever for when she moved, it wafted up around her in a sickening wave. She flapped the ends of her white neckerchief in a futile attempt to make it go away.

  Elsie, with a loud laugh, leaned over and nudged Mary in the ribs. ‘If you won’t I will,’ she said, and crooked a finger at a pair of young men who were watching the waiting girls from the other side of the pathway. There was no need to repeat the summons. They came over smartly and were soon engaged in the thrust and parry of flirtatious conversation with Elsie who was a past mistress at the art. She told them that she thought one of them was her cousin though of course he wasn’t. ‘He’s a fine-looking fellow like you are, that’s why I got confused,’ said Elsie, flapping her eyelashes.

  Mary said nothing and stared down at the grass wishing she was back with her mother but the second young man sat boldly down beside her and asked, ‘Have you any cousins that look like me, lass?’ She shook her head, acutely conscious of the lowering presence of Jockie Armstrong who of course was still in view, having doggedly tailed her up the hill. Now he was lounging beneath a tree a short distance away and it seemed to Mary that his eyes were boring into her.

  Odilie and Grace, sitting next to Mary, were safe from flirtatious attentions because they looked so shabby. They watched the tableau with amusement and smiled when Mary, in an attempt to escape the attentions of her suitor, turned to them and tried to start a conversation. She’d do anything to show Jockie that she was not encouraging the young man beside her.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ was her first question. She saw their working clothes and thought with pity that they must be very poor indeed not to be able to afford proper dresses for Fair Day.

  For a second Odilie was confused for she’d forgotten what she’d told the boy who took her horse. But Grace remembered and she leaned forward to say, ‘We’re from Earlston.’

  Thankfully Mary knew no one there. ‘My word, that’s a fair bit away!’ she said.

  ‘Not too far,’ said Odilie. ‘We rode over. I was lent a horse.’

  ‘That’s lucky, it’s a long walk,’ said Mary. ‘I’m from Morebattle and we came on our farmer’s dray. I’m a bondager too. Have you a good place?’

  She was looking at Odilie when she asked the question. ‘Oh yes, very good,’ said Odilie, who had no wish to become involved in anything other than generalities about her make-believe work. She changed the subject by saying, ‘I like your dress.’

  Mary fingered the cotton of her skirt. ‘Aye, it’s a pretty colour. Aunt Lily and I made it ourselves.’ She leaned forward. ‘You don’t think I smell funny, do you?’

  Grace and Odilie leaned forward too and sniffed. ‘You smell of lavender flowers. It’s a nice smell,’ said Odilie.

  ‘That’s fine. It’s my aunt’s perfume. I poured most of the bottle on before I left home and I think I’ve used too much. It’s fair making my head swim.’

  By this time Elsie had persuaded the swains to fetch beer and she pressed a mug into Mary’s hands saying, ‘Drink that up, it’ll cool you down.’ Mary obediently drank it and Elsie took the empty pot, handed it to the young men and said, ‘We’ll just have another, thank you.’

  ‘Oh no,’ protested Mary but she might have saved her breath. No one listened to her.

  Meanwhile, at the back of the fortune-telling tent, Rachel was weeping and clasping her arms around Billy. She was so much shorter than him that she could only hug him round the waist while he stood with his head bent and a puzzled expression on his face, staring down at the top of her head. Eventually she stopped crying and rubbed her eyes with swollen and arthritic knuckles as she told him, ‘Oh but I’m pleased to see you, Billy. Are you being a good chal then? Are you doing everything this man tells you?’

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Billy in confusion. Then some memory seemed to waken in him, he gave a groan and tried to hug Rachel. Whatever stirred in his brain made him very sad and tears welled up in his eyes.

  Fearful in case he hurt the frail old woman Jem stepped forward but Rachel put out a hand out to stop him. ‘He’ll do me no harm. I can tell,’ she said, and let the young giant crush her closer.

  When Billy relinquished his hold of the old woman, Jem said to him, ‘Now, sit down here on the grass and we’ll talk to your Granny for a bit. She’ll sit beside you if you like.’

  Rachel held Billy’s hand and pulled him down on to the ground beside her as she told Jem, ‘You’ve looked after him well. I knew I could trust you.’

  ‘It’s that I’ve come about. He’s nearly too much for me now and there’s no one else in my show that I could trust with him. Long Tom would be cruel to him if I wasn’t watching and Alice is terrified of him though she won’t admit it. When I get too old to manage him or if anything happens to me, what’s to be done with Billy?’

  Rachel groaned. ‘I’ve lived too long. I’m having to face problems I hoped never to see. There’s no one in our community who could cope with Billy. Gib’s as old as you and he was never a patient man, especially when he’s had a drink. There’s only young Jesse but he’s not much older than Billy. He has the makings of a fine man but to ask him to take on Billy would be like putting a shackle on his leg… You’ve brothers in the travelling trade, haven’t you? Maybe one of them could take him when you’re ready to give him up?’

  Jem frowned. ‘There’s Simon. He’s here today with his circus. I could
ask him but I doubt if his wife will let him take Billy… she’s got daughters you see. I’ve thought about this a lot. There are plenty of freak shows that would take him on but I don’t want to see him bullied or ill-treated. I’m as fond of him as you are. I’ll think about it a bit more and you think, too. Before the Fair’s over, we’ll have to come to some decision.’

  When the time came to take their leave it was with difficulty that Jem persuaded Billy to go back to the freak show with him for he wanted to stay among the gypsies: he felt at home there. Rachel had to promise that he could come back that night when his show was over before he agreed to go peacefully. As they were walking away, Billy hung on Jem’s hand and stared at Thomassin who was sitting at little way off watching all that went on. ‘What’s your name?’ Billy suddenly asked her.

  She raised her head and looked at him with her slanting eyes. ‘I’m called Thomassin,’ she said.

  ‘My word you’re braw. I love you,’ said Billy.

  * * *

  The interlude seemed to have done Madame Fatima a power of good because she whipped through the waiting queue at a terrific rate when she returned. And the clients were satisfied for each one re-emerged from the tent looking dazzled, bright-eyed and optimistic. Soon it was the turn of Elsie and Mary who went in together giggling and clinging to each other like a pair of children. Mary felt strange because three mugs of ale had been forced on her and that combined with the heat was making her head swim. When she and Elsie disappeared through the tent flap, Odilie saw that the two men who had been buying the girls’ drinks nudged each other in anticipation.

  Inside the tent Rachel held Elsie’s work-chapped hand and reeled off the usual anodyne formula – a happy marriage, several children not all of who whom would grow to adulthood, a long but hard life, trouble in store but you’ll overcome it. When she took Mary’s hand she looked obliquely and with more genuine interest at the girl. ‘This is an important day for you and for all your family. You’re at a crossroads in your life. You can take the right road or the wrong one. Take care… for if you take the right road you’ll live a long and happy life and end it in prosperity with your children’s children all around you. But be careful because you’re at the decision point now.’