M argaret had invited Jeanne to accompany her on a visit to the fair, leaving Baldwin and Simon to join Holcroft, who awaited them with the watchman Daniel. The port-reeve was frustrated at having to assist the knight from Furnshill, for he had many other duties to see to, but the Abbot had been quite definite even after hearing about the attack on Will Ruby. “This is a murder,” he pointed out, “and you must help Baldwin and the bailiff if you can. The attack on Ruby is secondary; it can wait.”
With Hugh, Simon’s servant, in tow, Margaret led her new friend up the hill, past the alley where the garbage was still heaped, past the cookshop and the tavern, and on up toward the fairground.
Margaret often went with her husband to Lydford Fair, but Tavistock Fair was on a different scale. The number of stalls was daunting, and many carried goods from far afield. She stared around her as they passed, but it was only as they came to the food-stalls that she began to study the goods in earnest. She had almost run out of spices, and needed to replenish their stocks.
Hugh stood resignedly as his mistress haggled with stallholders. In a short space of time he was laden with baskets. Oranges and almonds, loaves of sugar, packets of ginger and cinnamon, mace, cardamom and cloves, were all piled into his baskets until he complained at the weight.
Margaret turned her nose up at goods she could buy at Lydford. Mustard, salt and saffron were all ignored, as was pepper, but to Hugh’s dismay she slowed at the barrels of fish, and he was delighted when he heard Jeanne attract her attention to the cloth-sellers.
“Didn’t you say you needed new material?”
Soon Margaret was casting a speculative eye over the bolts on display. “It has to be the right color for him.”
“For your husband?”
“No,” she said, feeling a purple silk with a sad covetousness. It would have to go to a woman more prosperous than she: Simon would never agree to such an expense. “For Baldwin. He has no decent tunics.”
“You have taken it upon yourself to buy him new clothes?”
Margaret smiled at the note of surprise. “There is no one else to do it for him.”
“He has no woman?”
“He’s never married, and he rarely meets women of his own rank to woo. And he’s far too honorable to take a peasant.”
“Oh.” The simple expression carried an undertone of interest.
“I would be grateful,” Margaret said innocently, “if you could help me-what colors do you think would suit him?”
Jeanne threw her a curious glance. “You know him much better than I"
“Yes, but sometimes another opinion can help greatly.”