The Angel's Command (25 page)

17

A FINE SUNNY MORNING REIGNED over all as they left the woodlands, emerging onto a hilltop. Ben stopped a moment to take in the pleasant panorama. Dominic explained where they were and whither they were bound. “We're travelling south—those mountains you see ahead are the Pyrenees. It's uphill and down dale from here. That third hilltop, 'twixt here and the mountains, that's Veron. Perhaps we can save a bit of climbing by following that stream around the hills and through the valleys.”

Karay set off, calling back to them as she ran alongside Ned, “Come on then, we'll race you there!”

Ben watched them dashing downhill. “Let them go. She'll get tired of running before Ned does. Come on, mate, we'll walk like ordinary, sensible folk.”

He and Dominic set out at a leisurely pace. They found the girl sitting panting on a stream bank at the foot of the next hill. Ned was tugging at the hem of her dress. He looked up at Ben approaching and sent him a message. “Weak, fickle things human beings are. Look, she's out of breath already—a puppy'd have more stamina than this girl!”

Dominic winked at Ben, remarking to Karay as they strolled past her, “Good morning, marm. If you sit there all day you'll miss the fair at Veron. I'm told 'tis a good one!”

Both boys ducked as the girl splashed stream water at them. “Wait for me, you villains!” She had to run to catch up with them.

Veron was classed as a town, albeit a rather small one. It sat atop a gently sloping hill, with a meandering path leading up to its gates. Veron must once have been a fortress, for it was enclosed by stone walls, ancient but thick and solid. The fair was little more than a weekend market held once each month from a Friday midday to a Monday late noon.

Ben and his friends arrived early, taking their place behind a line of country folk waiting to be allowed through the town gates by the wall guards. They shuffled along with the motley crowd, their eyes roving with interest over the colourful scene. Carts piled high with fruit, vegetables and rural produce jostled behind rustic smocked drovers herding cattle, sheep, goats and horses. Wagons bearing disassembled stalls of painted wood and dyed canvas trundled uphill, hauled and pushed by entire families. Ducks and geese flapped between the wheels, honking and quacking, adding to the noisy cavalcade as the fairgoers, chiding youngsters and discussing prospects, all shuffled forward, eager to be inside the gates.

As they got closer to the entrance, Ned sent a thought to Ben. “Look, people are having to pay a toll to get in.”

Ben turned to Karay and Dominic. “Looks like it's been a waste of time coming here. We've got to pay the guards to get in. I don't have any money—do either of you?”

Dominic's face fell. “I didn't know you had to pay admission. I haven't got a single centime on me!”

Karay shook her head, stifling a scornful giggle. “What a pair of bumpkins! Money, huh! Who needs money to get past those gates? Leave this to me. You two just hang about and look as you do now, a real pair of yokels. I'll do all the talking.”

Ben shrugged. “As you say, marm, we'll follow the leader!”

The two wall guards were only ordinary town watchmen, each sporting a crested armband and a helmet that had seen better days. They carried long, antiquated pikes and barred the gates after each entrant in an overblown manner of importance.

Ben communicated an uneasy thought to his dog. “I hope she knows what she's doing—that's a long hill to be kicked down.”

The black Labrador nuzzled his hand. “Trust Karay, m'boy, she looks as if she's done this before a few times!”

As the four of them approached, both guards lowered their pikes, barring the entrance. The bigger of the two held out his hand. “Two centimes each, an' one for the dog. That's, er . . .”

“Seven centimes,” the smaller guard said.

Karay looked puzzled. She directed her attention to the big guard, letting her hand rest on his arm. “But, Captain, didn't our mother or father pay you?”

Being addressed as captain made the guard puff out his chest. He gazed down officiously into the pretty girl's eyes. “I don't know your parents, miss, and no one's paid me extra to allow others in today!”

Karay fluttered her eyes and grasped the guard's arm. “Oh, Captain, you surely must know them. Emile and Agnes? Our family has the pancake and honey stall. They left home hours before we did.”

The guard saw Karay's lip quiver. He patted her hand gently. “Well, they mustn't have arrived yet, miss. You an' your brothers stand to one side now an' wait for them, eh.”

Ben was amazed to see a tear spring unbidden to the girl's eye. Karay was clinging to the guard's arm now, gazing imploringly up at him, her voice all atremble. “Oh please, Captain, you must let us in. If our parents are not there, our stall space will be taken by someone else. I think the wheel must have come off the cart again. Father will be fixing it—they'll be along any minute now, expecting to find us watching their stall space. We're a poor family, Captain, but we're honest. I'll bring the money straight out to you, as soon as the stall is set up and we're selling our wares.”

The guard began to soften. He murmured to his partner. “What d'you think?”

The smaller guard shrugged. “ 'Tis up to you, Giles,” he whispered.

Karay suddenly brightened up. “Giles—that's him, isn't it?” Ben and Dominic nodded eagerly as the girl pressed her point. “Mother said she'd pay you, Captain, she told us to ask for the tall, good-looking one. Giles, she said!”

Most of the people behind them were getting impatient and calling out for Karay to move aside so they could get in. Giles shook his pike and bellowed. “Silence, or none of you will enter the fair. I'll say who gets in!”

Karay continued with her pleading. “I promise, Captain, I'll bring the money out as soon as possible. I'll bring you a pancake each, too, with butter and honey on it, piping hot!”

That settled the matter. Giles lowered his pike. “In you go, quick now! Oh, and could you manage a squeeze of lemon juice on those pancakes?”

Karay pushed Ben and Dominic in front of her through the gateway. Ned stood by her side as she replied, “I'll make them myself, with plenty of lemon juice. See you later, Captain. Come on, boy, before our space gets taken!”

The guard watched them hurry inside and winked at his companion. “Good manners, that girl—pretty, too!”

 
Inside Veron's main square there was a real bustle of festive atmosphere. Stalls were packed together so tightly that folk had to push and jostle to negotiate the narrow aisle spaces. The friends sat together on a broad flight of steps that fronted a grand manor house with a southern exposure.

Dominic chided Karay humorously. “No sign of Emile or Agnes yet. Oh dear, I wonder where Mother and Father have got to. You're a great liar, Karay!”

The girl slapped his arm lightly. “Well, at least I got us into the fair, didn't I, my slow-witted yokel brother.”

Ben chuckled as he ruffled Ned's ears. “Don't forget now, you owe those guards seven centimes and two hot pancakes.”

Ned's thought chimed in on Ben. “Mmm, thick with butter and honey. No lemon for me, thanks.”

Karay's eyes twinkled. “Pancakes, that's what we need, I'm famished!”

She rose swiftly and cut off toward the stalls.

Ned pawed at Ben's leg. “We'd best go after her. There's no telling what that young madam will be up to next!”

“You're right, mate.” Ben returned Ned's thought. He pulled Dominic up from the step. “Come on, Dom, it's a bit risky letting that little thief wander off alone.”

Karay had found herself a pancake stall where there was only a middle-aged lady attending to it. The girl stood back, watching everything closely.

“Thinking of stealing pancakes now, are we?”

She turned to see Ben, Dominic and Ned behind her. Karay hissed at them angrily. “I'm not stealing anything—she'll give me some pancakes gladly. Now be quiet and let me study that stall. I'll get us some food!”

Ned nudged his head against Ben's leg. “I'd do as Karay says if I were you. Give her a chance.”

After a while Karay sauntered over to the stall, where she waited until the woman was not busy serving. Passing a forearm across her brow, the woman sighed. “Pancakes are two centimes each, three with butter, four with honey and butter, three with just salt and lemon juice. Do you want one, miss?”

The girl stared hard at the woman, letting a silence pass before she spoke. “You work very hard for a widowed lady.”

The woman wiped her butter ladle on a clean cloth. “I've not met you before, how d'you know I'm a widow?”

Karay closed her eyes and held up a finger. Her voice was slow and confidential, as if sharing a secret. “I know many things, Madame. The eye of my mind sees the past as well as the present and the future. That is my gift, given to me by the good Saint Veronique, whom I am named after.”

The woman crossed herself and kissed her thumbnail. “Saint Veronique! Tell me more!”

Karay's eyes opened. She smiled sadly and shook her head. “It tires me greatly to use my skills. I have just come from Spain, where I was given five gold coins for seeing into the fortunes of a noble lady of Burgos.”

The woman's mouth set in a tight line as she mixed pancake batter. “You're a fortuneteller! My money is too hard-earned to spend upon such fancies and lies!”

Karay looked proudly down her nose at the pancake seller. “I already have gold coins. What do I need with your few centimes, Madame Gilbert?”

Batter slopped from the bowl as the woman stopped stirring. “How do you know my husband's name?”

Karay replied offhandedly. “It was never the name of the children you did not have. Shall I see into your future?”

The woman's face fell. “You're right, we never had children. If you don't want money for telling my fortune, then why did you come here? What do you want from me, miss?”

The girl smiled, sniffing dreamily at the aroma from the stall. “My grandmother used to make pancakes for me exactly like the ones you make—proper country style, eh?”

The pancake seller smiled fondly. “Ah, yes, proper country style . . . You could tell my fortune and I'd give you one.”

Karay turned her head away as if offended. “Only one?”

Shooing off a wasp and covering the honey pail, the woman spread her arms wide. “How many then, tell me.”

Karay played with her dark ringlets a moment. “Eight—no, better make it a dozen. I have a long way to travel, and the food they serve at some inns is not to my taste.”

The woman looked a bit shocked. “Twelve pancakes is a lot!”

Karay shrugged airily. “I could eat them easily, with enough honey and butter spread on them. It is a small price to pay for knowing what life and fate will bring to you, Madame.”

The woman wiped both hands on her apron. “I will pay!”

Karay came behind the planks that served as a counter. “Let me see the palm of your right hand.”

The woman proffered her outspread palm. Karay pored over it, whispering prayers for guidance from Saint Veronique loudly enough for her customer to hear. Then she began.

“Ah yes, I see Gilbert, your husband, he was a good baker. Since he has gone you have worked hard and long to set up your business. But fear not, you aren't alone. Who is this good man who helps you?”

The woman looked up from her own palm. “You mean Monsieur Frane, the farmer?”

The girl nodded. “He is a good man, even though he has lost a partner, his wife. He comes to help you often, yes?”

The woman smiled. “From dawn to dusk, if I ask him.”

Karay smiled back at her. “He thinks a lot of you. So does his daughter.”

The pancake seller agreed. “Jeanette is a good girl, almost like a daughter to me—she visits a lot, too. Tell me more.”

Karay made a few signs over the woman's palm. “Now for the future. Listen carefully to what I tell you. Do not go home tonight—take a room at a local inn. Stay a few days longer after the fair. Sit by the window each day and watch out for Monsieur Frane and Jeanette, they will come. You must tell him that your work is tiring you, that you no longer want to continue with it. Tell him you are thinking of selling your house and bakery and moving.”

The woman looked mystified. “But why would I do that?”

The girl silenced the woman with a wave of her hand. “Do you want me to see further into your future, Madame?”

The woman nodded, and Karay continued. “I see you happily married, a farmer's wife, with a dear devoted daughter. The only baking you will bother with is their daily bread and cakes to eat in the evening around your farmhouse fire. Trust me, Madame, your fate will be aided by your own efforts. Saint Veronique sees you as a good person, I know this.”