CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

THE FAIR.

Fetching the cart onto the lane, Gillow spoke appreciatively to Eppie. *You've done a good job of knocking the muck off the wheels.'

Martha ambled up with Eppie's straw bonnet. *Typical man, he hasn't even noticed what a beauty you've made of Jenny.'

Eppie had spent much of yesterday preparing for the trip to the fair, polishing the harness, and weaving braids into the horse's mane and tail. Adding to her excitement, Gabriel was expected back from Bath today.

Betsy was hoeing around herbs in her garden. *Don't forget to bring me back a biskey.'

*Are you sure you won't come?' Martha asked.

*The black ox has well and truly stamped on my bad foot,' the elderly lady said, alluding to the fact that she was past gallivanting.

Eppie stared at the still reins. *Why does Wakelin always take so long to get ready?'

The Hix family overtook, also on the way to the fair.

Eppie stamped her foot, giving Jenny a surprise. *Huff! All these carts are passing. We'll never get there.'

Gillow was amused. *Patience isn't exactly one of your virtues is it?'

Wakelin trotted back from the earth toilet. *Need us pennies.'

Eppie grudged the further delay. Whipping the reins from Gillow's hands, she gave them a sharp flick and shouted at the gaping doorway, *We're off!'

Without bothering to shut the door, Wakelin pelted after them, his hob-nail boots ringing on the lane. *Hey, wait for us!'

Eppie shot a glance over her shoulder. *Get a shift on, old lead feet.'

Gillow guffawed at his son's misfortune. Twiss leapt about in delight, his tail wagging.

*Now you're in trouble,' Martha told Eppie as Wakelin dived into the cart.

*You little joker!' he cried.

Eppie squealed as he dragged her into the back. *I was going apple bobbing at the fair, but seeing as your cheeks are as red as apples, I think I'll have a nibble now.'

She shrieked at the ghastly sensation of his slobbery munches on her cheeks.

*As your penance, I'll force you to drink a hot brandy an' cider. You can buy me one an' all.'

*I will if it only costs half a farthing.'

*If you're that poor, I suppose I'll have to buy you summat. Hunch of pie or cake?'

She flung her arms around his neck. *Cake, cake!'

Clambering back to sit between Martha and Gillow, she sighed. *I wish we were there now. Will I see the mayor?'

*I imagine you'll be too busy rushing around the stalls and sideshows,' Gillow answered. *You'll certainly hear the cannons fired from the castle to mark the re-inauguration.'

*I'd love to see the king. Have you met him, Pa?'

*I can't say that I've had that privilege.'

*What's so special about him?' Wakelin asked. *He reckons cows grow on trees.'

*Our sovereign knows more about smallholding than you ever will,' his father retorted. *He might be a simple man, but he is kindly and provides a moral example to folk through his virtuous way of life.'

Robert du Quesne overtook them in his carriage.

Wakelin's eyes danced with mirth. *There's a man in a hurry. Mayor Attington must be offering free liquor to all the lords in the parish. I bet du Quesne is friends with the king. They're both crazed.'

*You're the only one I know who is out of their mind, especially after last night,' his father retorted.

Sneaking into the larder, Wakelin had fished pickled onions out of an earthenware jug and dropped in ox eyeballs. During his evening meal, not looking what he was doing, Gillow was about to take a bite out of one, but was alerted to Wakelin's ploy when Eppie screeched with revulsion at the sight.

*That capswabbled you all,' Wakelin said, sniggering. *I don't know why none of you wanted to eat *em. They was fresh.'

*No one, except you,' his father answered, toppling out of his seat as he glared round at his son, *thought it was the least bit funny.'

*Ah, don't be such a grumpy chops.'

Gillow frowned, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle. *How dare you talk to me like that?'

*Easily.' Slumping dejectedly against the side of the cart, Wakelin screwed up his eyes as Twiss licked his face. *I can talk how I like. I'm a growed man.'

*Well, you don't act or talk like one.'

Martha was aggravated by the trouble brewing between husband and son. *I wanted this to be a happy day. I've only come along to please you all. I should really be at home with my feet up, especially as the baby's due in a few weeks.'

Gillow cast a concerned look at her. *If you're feeling off would you rather we go back?'

*Don't be daft. Eppie's been excited about the guild fair for weeks. Besides, I can't trust you two to look after her once you've got a few ales inside you.'

Passing the last of the wood-fringed lakes beyond Lynmere, they topped the hill. Before them was swept the crowded market with its ordered procession of stalls. Gay buntings depicting gold crowns flapped upon the battlement of the Norman castle, which scrutinized the blithe occasion through multifarious arrow-slit and cannon-blasted eyes.

Nestling in a field beyond the castle was the fair, from which arose the discordant notes of a brass band competing against the pipes of a barrel organ.

Today there seemed a greater number of standings along Swine Market Street, selling all manner of goods from seed-ploughs to meat, flax and stockings. A disgruntled market official wove amongst the stalls, checking the quality and value of pots, pans and knives on sale.

Irritated at seeing smallholders doing a fine trade selling vegetables, poultry and eggs, Martha said, *I feel guilty about not selling today.'

Gillow was keen to put her mind at rest. *You deserve one day off a year.'

Labourers and domestic servants mulled around the market cross, offering themselves for employment.

*That's a housemaid,' Eppie said of a lady who had tied blue ribbons onto her broom. Red ribbons were tied around a cook's basting ladle, whilst whipcord was twisted around a carter's hat. Some people carried mop heads indicating that they were servants with no particular skills. A few wore bright ribbons to show that they had already been hired by farmers or other employers.

An express coach rumbled into the yard of The Black Sheep, Hurry Eade's inn. Banners draped from its upper windows illustrated dog-fighting and bare-knuckle boxing, events taking place throughout the day.

*I'm off to them,' Wakelin said, almost drooling at the thought.

Crates containing live cockerels were being unloaded for the cockshy in the yard of The Rogues' Inn.

A platform before the Town Hall was decorated in a sea of flowers in readiness for the re-inauguration. Set before this was a roundabout. In the middle of the wooden ring men span riders.

Eppie made to leap from the cart. *A giddy-go-round!'

Gillow held her back. *All in good time. We must find a tethering post.'

Huffing, she sat with her chin in her palms, staring at pigs, calves and sheep fastened to iron palings. Heads locked together, farmers were agreeing the sales and purchases of beasts crushed into pens set alongside the road.

Their cart drew to a standstill behind a herd of cattle being driven down the street. A cow with a crumpled horn bumped them. Wakelin clouted it on the poll. *Outta it, ya dribbly mutt.'

Oss Cordwainer, on horseback, brought up the rear. *Watch it Wake, else you'll be paying damages to his lordship for assault.'

The stalls at the fairground stretched as far as Eppie could see, selling confectionery, wooden toys and novelties, cheap manufactured goods, drapery and crockery. The whole world seemed compressed into this one festive venue. *Roll up, roll up!' Harlequins danced. Minstrels played. Carefree people laughed loudly as they met old friends. Wagging tongues gossiped.

Eager to explore, Eppie tugged Martha by the hand, undecided where to go first.

*Stop that!' Gillow cautioned. *Your mother needs a relaxing day if she's to keep going until nightfall.'

Martha cast him a startled look. *I never reckoned on staying that long. I was worn out before we set off.'

*Do come on!' Eppie pleaded. *Adults are so boring, always wanting to stand around talking.'

A fire-eater passed by, forks of blue flame shooting out of his mouth.

Beside an open-air theatre, where strolling players performed A Midsummer's Night Dream, Wakelin spied the ale tent. Gleefully, he wrung his hands. *First things first.'

Eppie hastened over to a group of children who were sneaking a look beneath a tent.

Peering into the musty-smelling interior she was appalled to see chopped-off human arms and legs, even a baby with one eye in the centre of its head, floating in jars of brownish liquid.

Nudging her, a boy pointed to rows of human heads encased in a glass cabinet. *Bet ya *em's stranglers, slashers an' chopper-uppers. Ya can tell by em's shaggy eyebrows.'

Returning, she stood on the side of Martha furthest away from Gillow, staring aghast at his beetling brows.

Claire craned her neck, marvelling at a stilt-walker juggling balls. *Are you having a good time, Eppie?'

*This is the best day of my life! I wonder what's in that tent with the scary roaring.'

*Why don't you go and see?' Eppie's eyes sparkled as Claire held out coins. *Here's something from Uncle Henry and I for you to spend.'

*When you've finished, we'll be in the refreshment tent,' Martha said. *I'm desperate for a sit down.' She patted her lurching womb. *This little one is riding swing-boats in here.'

Inside the enormous tent were ranged bumped and rusty cages of all dimensions. For a while, Eppie was unable to catch more than a glimpse of the travelling menagerie because of the press of people leaning over and around one another, heads swaying as they goggled and giggled at incarcerated victims.

Pursing their lips in disgust, Lady Sophia Wexcombe and her young daughters, Hortence and Permelia, strolled about, daintily wafting their skirts above the fouled straw, lacy-edged parasols swaying upon their forearms.

Cautiously, Eppie drew to the nearest cage, anticipating the thrill of her first sight of wild beasts. Within was an Asian tiger like the ones she had seen in Gabriel's natural history book. She had never imagined it would look so immense, so noble. Yet, as she stared into the dull eyes of the tiger lying listlessly upon a table, she sensed its princely bearing, its dignity, had been beaten out of it or simply drained away throughout its captive years. Lumps and sores punctured its coat.

Bactrian camels gazed candidly back at her as she stood mesmerised by the whirling, chewing motion of their mouths. Disconsolately, she looked upon an orang-utan, its golden-brown fur matted and crawling with parasites. Children clowned around, seeing who could pull the most frightful face at the torpid ape.

A surly black Himalayan bear, its face scarred from baiting, lamely pounded before the Wexcombes. Miss Hortence, who had a habit of chewing her lips to redden them, like a sparrow pecking at seeds, stared at the bear, a vacant look upon her face.

With a heavy heart, Eppie turned away. She was about to leave when she caught the gentle sound of a lamb bleating to its mother. Joining farmers and their families at a palisade, she peered over. James Leiff, Sarah's youngest, sat on a hay bale, a shepherd's cruck in his hands. She was baffled as to why there was such an interest in the bewildered sheep and its lamb. In a twinkling, she realised. *The lamb's got six legs!'

Beside her, a man chewed a lark pie. *Nar, missy, there's some trick. *Them legs is sewed on.'

Trumpeter and Drummer, Samuel's sheepdogs, thrust their damp muzzles into her hand.

*Now *en, One-Quart,' said Samuel. *Martha asked me to look in on ya. The whole tent is in an echo about my lamb.'

*She's wonderful, Grumps. She'll run so fast that the other lambs will never catch her.'

*Fancy a trot around the fair? I'm not stopping long; I need to check on Edmund. I've left him behind to keep a watchful eye on any ewes that might uppan their lambs.'

Cooking odours replaced reeking animal dung as they emerged into the sunlight. Chattering on at a rapid pace, Eppie stared in awe at everything from human skeletons performing cartwheels, to a bearded woman, daubed the world's strongest dwarf, who was shouldering a cannon.

Eyeing Samuel's white beard and moustache, the fastest demon barber waved his cut-throat razor. *Step up here, my good man. I must reach my record of one hundred shaved in an hour.'

Samuel took one look at the blood-speckled shirt of the last volunteer and steered Eppie away.

Clutching a soggy paper bag, Wakelin burst upon them. *I've been looking all over for you, Eppie. Here's yer cake. Sorry it's mangled; Twiss took a bite outta it.'

His grandfather chuckled. *You been buying up the fair?'

*Huh? Oh, yur, this is for Twiss.'

Eppie draped the frill over Twiss's neck. *You look like one of them dancing dogs.'

They laughed as Twiss, unimpressed, span round madly, trying to bite it. He cheered up when Eppie put dollops of sticky sponge on her fingers and let him and Samuel's dogs lick it off.

*When you've finished squirting cream all over your face, I'll give ya a cocky-necky to the roundabout.' Whinnying like a wild horse, Wakelin tore through the crowd at a terrific pace, Eppie carried on his shoulders, crying out for him to gallop faster.

The giddy-go-round whirled. Eppie straddled a legless horse that drew a wheel-less carriage. *Wakelin, where ya going?' she cried, seeing him slink off.

*Cockshy.'

*I wanted you to watch me!'