Saint Agatha’s was a purely local gathering, in no way resembling the great international fairs of England and France. No Italian goldsmiths or Flemish clothmakers would make an appearance in Lincoln. The event was actually nothing more than a glorified market day, with games and competitions attached to it.
Ralf had always supported the fair wholeheartedly. Besides bringing good business for the local merchants, it had been a way to bring city and castle together. The knights of the castle guard threw quoits and bowls along with the merchants from the town, and the competition was good-humored and friendly. If a few lads drank too much and ended up spending the night in a castle cell, well, no lasting harm ever came of it.
Gervase had the same outlook on the fair as had his predecessor, which is why he allowed it to be held even though he knew he was outraging the de Beauté party, who remained ensconced in the castle.
“Why doesn’t that girl go home?” the sheriff complained as he sat over midday dinner with his son and Hugh on the day before the fair was scheduled to open. “She was in my office again today, with that long-faced companion of hers, protesting the fair and demanding that I get the justiciar here tomorrow.” He took a long drink of wine. “God’s blood, she can do nothing useful here in Lincoln. All she is is a thorn in my side.”
Hugh carefully broke his bread in half. “With the king in Cornwall,” he said, “there is no one to assume control over her. Unfortunately.”
Gervase glared at Hugh. “You are supposed to be betrothed to her. Can’t you get her to leave? It isn’t decent for a young girl to want to see a hanging.”
“I was never betrothed to Elizabeth de Beauté and the less I see of her the happier I will be,” Hugh returned calmly. He broke the bread again and glanced at Richard. “You appear to be good friends with her, Richard. Why don’t you try to convince her to go home?”
Richard said ruefully, “My friendship is not as influential as that, I’m afraid.”
“Well, all I can say is, she is a cursed nuisance,” Gervase said. “All of my knights fall over themselves every time she shows her face. I had to break up a fight today between two of them.”
Hugh raised his brows. “A fight, sir?”
“Aye. Apparently the girl smiled at one of them. Guyton thought he was the favored one and Walter thought it was him. They got into a fight about it.” Gervase finished the wine in his cup. “I wish the bothersome girl would keep her smiles to herself.”
“I don’t think you’re being quite fair, Father,” Richard said mildly. “Her father’s death has plunged Lady Elizabeth’s life into chaos, and she is frightened. This obsession of hers to see her father’s murderer brought to justice gives her a purpose to hold on to. She is only a young girl, after all. I think she deserves some pity.”
“Which you appear to be supplying, Richard,” Hugh remarked blandly. “From what I can see, you live in Lady Elizabeth’s pocket.”
“She is alone and I feel sorry for her,” Richard replied. “Is the idea of simple kindness so foreign to you, Hugh?” His blue eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps you are jealous?”
Hugh’s face lit with amusement. “You are very welcome to Lady Elizabeth, Richard. I have no claim on her, nor do I want one.”
Gervase said, in the manner of one settling an argument, “Well, considering all her objections about its propriety, at least she won’t attend the fair. That is something, I suppose.”
Silence fell as the men continued to eat.
Then, as he soaked up some gravy with his bread, Richard said to Hugh, “Are you entering Rufus in the horse race?”
Hugh shook his head.
Richard seemed disappointed. “That is too bad. I will be riding Durand, and I was hoping to have some competition.”
Hugh looked at Richard, his face expressionless, and did not reply.
“I don’t think you should ride Durand in the horse race, Richard,” Gervase said. “His quality is too far above the other horses that will be entered. It wouldn’t be a fair competition, and the townsfolk would resent it.”
Richard’s face darkened, and for a moment he was not handsome at all. Then the moment passed and his face assumed its usual good-humored expression.
“All right, Father,” he said. “If you don’t think it’s a good idea, I won’t enter the race.”
Gervase gave his son an approving smile.
“What other events will be held?” Hugh asked.
“The same as always,” Gervase replied. “Wrestling, archery-and the horse race will be held on the the first day. The camp-ball game will be played the second day.”
“Who are the camp-ball captains this year?” Hugh asked idly.
Gervase’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Didn’t you know? They are you and Richard.”
Hugh paused in the act of lifting his cup and stared at the sheriff in surprise. Then, slowly, he put his cup back on the table. “I don’t think that is a good idea, sir.”
“Nonsense,” Gervase said briskly. “When I suggested it to Master Faren he was delighted.”
Master Faren was Lincoln’s master goldsmith and head of the group of townsfolk in charge of the fair.
Hugh glanced at Richard’s serene face. “Was this your idea?” he demanded.
Richard smiled. “I thought it would be fun.”
Hugh picked up his wine cup and drained it.
Fun? he thought morosely. It will be mayhem.
Hugh spent the afternoon in the Bail, talking with the various merchants who rented stalls there.
Daniel Merton sold cauldrons, kettles, cups, sickles, billhooks, saws, and fasteners. He told Hugh he was paying three pence a day to rent his stall. Walter Newton, who sold fleeces and sheepskin for making parchment, had told Hugh he paid the same, as did the rest of the merchants who did business all year round.
“That is a lot of money,” Hugh said to Daniel as he stood inside the merchant’s stall, which was warmed by a charcoal brazier.
“Aye, it is. But those of us who rent here don’t have a shop in town. And the farmers who rent seasonally say that they get good business from the castle and the bishop’s residence, so it is worth it.”
“How many farmers rent during the good weather?” Hugh asked.
Daniel told him.
Hugh figured the sums in his mind, and came to the same conclusion as had Edgar Harding. The sheriff was collecting more in rent than he was expending in additional pay to the castle guard.
Daniel was not the only merchant burning charcoal, and the smell and the smoke from many braziers filled the air. Hugh’s eyes were tearing slightly from the fumes, and he blinked to clear them.
“How did the sheriff decide which merchants to rent to?” he asked idly as he lifted a plain wooden cup to examine it.
Daniel shrugged. “For myself, I heard that stalls in the Bail were becoming available and I applied.”
Hugh ran his finger over the cup to test its smoothness. “I only ask because Edgar Harding was complaining to me the other day that he had not been offered a stall.” He returned the cup to the table.
“No one was ‘offered’ a stall, Lord Hugh,” Daniel said. “We all just heard one way or another that the sheriff was renting market stalls and we applied to get one.”
“Who did you apply to?”
If Daniel was puzzled by Hugh’s interest, his thin, pointy face did not show it. “We applied to the same person who collects the rents, Theobold Elton. He is the man who supervises the market operation.”
Hugh frowned thoughtfully. “I do not believe I know him.”
“He came to Lincoln after you left, Lord Hugh. He’s one of the castle knights.”
“I see.”
Hugh reached for his purse. “I believe I will purchase this cup, Daniel. What are you asking for it?”
The man’s smile showed two missing front teeth. “Three pence,” he said.
Hugh, who knew full well that Daniel had more than tripled the price of the cup, nodded gravely and handed over the money.