The Rope Dancer Read online

  Deri laughed but reached up and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “No, not tonight, but you may fill your belly as full as you like anyway. I intend to buy both of us supper, and a good one too, if my nose is a judge.”

  Then Carys realized that the reason her question had held such painful eagerness was because Deri had been pushing his way toward one of the booths where food was being sold, and her nose had been inciting her stomach to rebellion. She was so used to hunger that she usually could ignore it, and she had eaten well that morning, but the odors were tantalizing. She and Deri were not the only ones captivated. The crowd around the booth was thick, but each person Deri shouldered aside gave way readily and Carys saw that there were fewer buyers than watchers. Most of the people were standing back from the stall, perhaps, Carys thought, trying to decide whether it was worthwhile to spend their few precious farthings or items of trade goods on so ephemeral a pleasure as food.

  When Deri pushed through into the open space, Carys dismissed all thought of anything but the savory treat coming. She watched with eyes round with disbelief as the dwarf demanded two pies of flesh and two of fowl and two portions of stew, which was served in a hollowed-out end of a stale farthing loaf. A few in the crowd moaned a little, and Carys looked nervously over her shoulders to see if any around them seemed to be thieves when Deri pulled out a purse and put a whole silver penny on the counter.

  He caught the gesture and laughed. “You need not fear I will be robbed. For one thing, the lord’s men are on the watch for trouble. For another, any man who tries is likely to get his head broken—not for trying to take my purse, which he will never reach, but for making me spill our stew when I pick him up and throw him into the horse trough. Now, pull out that overlong tunic of yours, boy, so you can carry the pies. They will be too hot for your hands.”

  One of the men who was buying looked around when Deri spoke. He nodded familiarly at the dwarf, grinned, and said generally to the crowd, “You had better believe he can do it. No one in Castle Combe will wrestle with Deri Longarms. Is your master up in the keep, Deri?”

  “He is, my lord,” Deri answered, sketching a bow while he replaced the purse and then scooping the hot pies from the plank that served as a counter into the tunic Carys was holding out. “And why,” he asked in sympathy, “are you here while he is singing?”

  The man, who Carys could now see was quite young, made a grimace of chagrin. “I am named overseer of the guards for this night, partly to make sure they do their duty and catch thieves and brawlers, and partly to make sure they do no outrages either.”

  Deri nodded. “There is great uneasiness in the land, and it is wise that the lord of Combe seeks surety that this gathering for joy does not become one of sorrow.”

  “Yes, it is true.” The squire sighed.

  “You need not fear to miss anything,” Deri assured him. “Telor will sing anything you wish to hear privately. I will tell him you asked for him.”

  “Good. Tell him to look for me. The lute he made me is wonderful, but I would like to have extra strings. And also, I think, I would like a smaller instrument, perhaps a gittern.” Then the young man frowned. “Fool that I am talking of music. What do you know about the uneasiness in the land, Deri?”

  “Only that we have been dodging armies all the way southeast from Creklade. We heard at Uffing’s town that there was fighting around Marlborough, so we stayed off the great road. But the whole countryside was in arms. The neighboring keep beyond the village where we picked up this boy had been taken by assault. Caron, what was the name of the place?”

  “Faux’s Hill,” Carys muttered in a gruff, shy boy’s voice, bobbing her head as if she wished to bow but did not dare.

  Deri had looked at her when she answered and looked away again, vaguely uneasy. But the squire waved him on, saying his food was getting cold. Deri pushed back through the crowd, which parted ahead of him and closed in again behind, pairs of eyes peering down into the bread shells at the stew he carried. One or two, encouraged by what they saw, moved toward the stall. Carys followed as closely as she could, walking and hopping, until Deri gestured sharply with his head to a corner made by the makeshift stage and the wall of a sty.

  “Sit there,” Deri suggested.

  “This is our place,” an angry voice snarled as Carys put the pies on the stage and turned to take the stew from Deri. It was the acrobatic dwarf.

  “We will not hold it long,” Deri offered placatingly as he put his hands on the edge of the stage and vaulted up. “We only want to eat in peace.”

  “And we are of your kind,” Carys said.

  “More the fool you if you think we welcome others to thin our profit,” the dwarf snapped viciously. “There is a second troupe here already.”

  Carys shook her head. “We do not play here. Deri is Telor Luteplayer’s servant. Telor sings only in the keep among the lords. I am Carys Ropedancer, but I am with Deri and his master by chance. My man died of sickness, in the dark of the moon, and I was driven from the town before I could find another troupe. One day on the road, I fell. After I climbed back to the road, I fainted, and Telor and Deri found me and out of kindness took me with them.”

  “A rope dancer? Well.” A man came across the stage, pushed the dwarf out of the way with a nasty blow, and sat down beside Carys. To her surprise Carys found her nose was offended by him. “I am Joris Juggler,” he offered. “Why should a rope dancer not perform? If you are good enough, you need no callers, and any man can help you set your rope.”

  “I have no rope,” Carys said around a large mouthful of bread and stew. “They cast me out with nothing.”

  That was too common an occurrence for the juggler to doubt her word, but he shrugged with little sympathy.

  “Also, just now I am lame,” Carys went on, having swallowed what she was chewing. “I hurt my ankle when I fell, but it mends apace. When I am ready, if I can borrow a rope, I may show my art.”

  Once Carys began to talk, Deri had addressed himself to his meal, tilting the bread container to tip stew into his mouth and chewing down the edges of the bread to get it all. He seemed fully occupied, but his eyes kept flicking to Carys, then to the juggler and other members of the troupe who had climbed onto the stage.

  Deri was confused. When Carys had spoken to de Dunstanville’s squire, why had she looked repulsive? There had been something wrong with her face. A shadow thrown by the torchlight? It must be that, Deri told himself, but he was not convinced. And now, as she talked to the juggler, who seemed to be the leader of his large and relatively prosperous troupe, Deri realized that Carys’s speech and manner set her as far above the juggler as he was himself. Her accent was of his own class, as was her polite self-assurance. Deri came to the shocking conclusion that Carys did not belong with these people at all!

  Deri was sorry he had all but told Carys to join one of the troupes in Castle Combe and had brought her to this corner with the purpose of meeting the players. She was doing her best, using a story that would not bind her to Telor nor give any hint of trouble. She had even set the “death from sickness” of her man long enough in the past that she could not be thought to bring the sickness with her. Deri could only hope the other troupe was better, because he could not think of what else to do with her. He would be willing—he would even enjoy—having her join him and Telor. With him as fool and her to rope dance, if she were as good as she said, and Telor to make music for them, they could play in larger towns and at fairs. There would be more profit in it than his acting the fool alone—although Telor would have to change his name and disguise himself so his noble patrons would not know him if they came across them by accident. Telor would object, but Deri knew how to make him agree.

  The real problem was Carys. If she desired Telor, there could be no doubt Telor would grant her wish as easily as he granted that of all the women who beckoned him. There would be no harm in it either, if Telor was parting from Carys as he parted from the others. But if Carys joined them, T
elor’s natural kindness would bind her tighter and tighter, and she could be bitterly hurt when it became clear that Telor had merely accommodated her as he accommodated all women.

  Carys regretted that Deri had involved her with the players more than he did. Because he had been present, she had maintained the speech and manner she used with him and Telor. That had naturally separated her from Joris Juggler, making her “different” and therefore untrustworthy. But worst of all, she felt different, apart from people she knew would have been her kind before. Before what? Only a night and a day. One night and one day with Telor and Deri and she found herself stepping back so that Joris would not touch her. Yet it was clearly a good troupe. She had herself heard the roars of laughter from the crowd when they played their piece, and she could see that the men and women were well fed and not in rags—even the idiot dwarf. But they were dirty. Carys had to stop herself from laughing by stuffing more stew into her mouth when the thought came to her. They were dirty? What she had been two days since made them look as fresh as a bed of lilies, and yet…

  Carys tucked one pie into the fullness of her tunic and said to Deri, “I can eat no more. Can we look at the fairings now? There is nothing more Joris can say to me before he sees my skill.”

  Perhaps, she thought, if I come back alone and speak their speech and spend time with them, I will find myself again and the feeling of strangeness will pass. But her heart sank and the food she had eaten, delicious as it was, lay in her stomach like lead at the thought, and her eyes were blind with tears when Deri offered his shoulder again and they walked away.

  Carys shed her worries while she and Deri wandered among the torchlit booths. Like others in the crowd, she gasped and murmured with admiration as the merchants and craftsmen held up various items for display, particularly those that glittered with bright bits of quartz or glass or gleamed with the sheen of silk in the flaring and uncertain light. She was unaware of her own reactions, merely taking pleasure in what she rarely had a chance even to admire. Usually Carys had been performing at fairs where such goods were displayed. And players had not been welcome among the booths of the merchants. Sad experience of being accused of wishing to steal and driven away had taught Carys to keep to her own part of the fair.

  Deri was more accustomed to shows of this type. Telor was often invited to sing at weddings and knightings, and Deri had little to do when he was playing servant instead of fool and often examined the goods. He found himself touched by the impression of youth and innocence Carys transmitted by her wonder and open enjoyment. Twice he barely restrained himself from purchasing some trinket for her because her eyes followed it with such longing and because she did not hint at the smallest expectation of having that longing satisfied. Deri had not had the pleasure of satisfying someone’s desire since he had lost his wife and his younger siblings. The urge to hear the cries of joy and see the total absorption when the unexpected trinket was disclosed was very strong. Telor’s friendship satisfied most of Deri’s need to love, but not the need to give and to care for.

  Deri checked the impulse partly because he suspected that what was offered for sale by torchlight might be found to be ill made by daylight, but a stronger reason was his fear that Carys would believe the gift was to buy her favors and would show her revulsion. He did not want her—he did not want any woman except his sweet Mary—but he did not want to see the horrified sickness in her eyes either. So far she had treated him like any other man, and that was very pleasant. Still, he marked what she desired—most passionately a comb and secondly a net of bright silken cords of gold shaped to fit the head and hold a woman’s hair. He would look again at the items the next day to see if they were good quality, and perhaps if she found a place with some troupe he could give the things as parting gifts.

  Later, when they had watched some tumbling and the antics of the fool of the second troupe, Deri decided he would have to find some other way to give Carys her comb and net that would make clear he desired nothing in return. He could not see a place for her in this second group, and he noticed that she made no move to introduce herself to those players who were idly watching their fellows and the crowd. By the time the acts were over and Carys had set her uneaten pie on the edge of the stage as payment for the entertainment, the torches were guttering out and not being renewed, except near the guard post at the small gate.

  “It is time to go back,” Deri said.

  “Yes,” Carys agreed immediately.

  Her voice sounded sad, and Deri said, “You did not need to leave the pie. I will buy you another.” He did not think she regretted the pie, but he wanted to offer her something to raise her spirits.

  She smiled then. “I do not think I could eat it, not even tomorrow. I am heavy with food. You and Telor are very good to me. I wish—No, I do not know what I wish.”

  Chapter 7

  Telor did not see Carys when he came to get Teithiwr the next morning, soon after those who wished to participate in the hunt had departed. She had scampered up into the rafter at dawn to be out of the way of the shouting noblemen, harried grooms, and excited horses after Deri had been pressed into service to help get the mounts saddled up for their impatient masters. When all sound of the merry chaos of barking dogs, calling huntsmen, and yelling hunters had streamed away through the portcullis and over the bridge, Carys had begun to come down, only to clamber back on her perch in response to a noblewoman’s high-pitched, angry voice shouting for a groom to bring her mare now, so she could catch up with the hunt.

  The animal was found and saddled and the lady away in a very few minutes, but Carys continued to sit quietly on the beam. She thought she might have been in serious trouble if the lady had seen her and she had to confess she did not know how to saddle a horse. It was better to stay where she was until all chance of more latecomers was over. A few minutes later she saw Telor come in followed by Deri, who looked very angry.

  Telor was accustomed to Deri’s reaction. He was sorry the dwarf had seen him coming for his horse only moments after Lady Marguerite had departed, but he could only point out, as he saddled Teithiwr as fast as he could, that the choice had not been his. “She bade me meet her after the hunt had left. You know it would be far, far, worse for me not to meet Lady Marguerite than to be seen meeting her. She can find excuses for our meeting, and so can I, but she would have me gelded if I seemed to scorn her.”

  “And if her husband catches you, he will have you gelded—before he has your guts ripped out and strung around your neck so he can hang you with them,” Deri snarled. “Choice, pfah! If you did not look at them as if they were covered in honey and you could not wait to lick it off—”

  “What an idea!” Telor exclaimed, then suddenly laughed and struck Deri on the shoulder. “You are a fine one to talk,” he remarked. “You had better go up to the keep and make your peace with the maid named Edith before she complains to her mistress about you. She looked very black when she asked me where you were. She said you had promised to meet her during the singing. I excused you for last night by saying I had ordered you to watch over my new apprentice lest he get into trouble—but that will not serve for another day.”

  He laughed again at Deri’s indignant expression and led Teithiwr out of the stable before the dwarf could protest that futtering a maid was a different matter from playing with a noblewoman, calling over his shoulder as he mounted, “Go take care of that business in the keep while I see to this other matter.”

  Deri’s indecent comment drifted after him, but Telor only grinned and waved and urged Teithiwr into a quick trot. He was not much concerned about Lady Marguerite’s husband; Sir Raul, he was sure, would notice only what was forcibly thrust under his nose, and Lady Marguerite was too discreet, too clever—and basically too indifferent—to endanger them by making blatant mistakes. Then Telor’s lips curved into a sensuous smile; she clearly enjoyed him enough to take some chances. A sudden eagerness led him to urge Teithiwr faster, but he reined the horse back to a trot imme
diately. No doubt Lady Marguerite had gone careening through the lower bailey only moments before in her pretense of chasing after the hunt. It was better for him to keep a more moderate pace lest his haste and hers be connected.

  Once out of the keep, Telor spotted her from the vantage of the high ground. She had turned short of the village and was riding across the stream toward the woods on the other side. Telor had no choice but to follow the road down from the keep, since it was the only way, but he went straight through the village without crossing the stream. He kept to the road, knowing that it would debouch on the Fosse Way, which ran northeast and southwest. If he turned right on the Fosse Way, he would soon be hidden from the village by a narrow tongue of woods. As soon as the road crossed the stream, he could turn right again into the wood just north of where Lady Marguerite had entered it.

  Since no game larger than a hare could be found in the little hemmed-in woodland, the hunt either would go north into forestland behind the castle or would cross the Fosse Way and go west. Telor was sure that he and Lady Marguerite would have this little piece of land all to themselves for several hours.

  He found her without difficulty, and it occurred to him as he dismounted that she must have done this many times. A faint distaste dulled his anticipation; nonetheless, she was a lovely creature, her hand soft as down in his, her face pink and white, her eyes sparkling, and he remembered what Deri had said; perhaps it was true, perhaps if he had not looked at her with desire, she would not have invited him to meet her. In any case, she was taking a risk for this meeting, and he owed her pleasure.

  “It is not far,” he said. “Will you come down and walk, or shall I lead your horse?”

  “What is not far?” she asked, quirking up a brow.