Thirteen

Fair’s Fair

Although the night was pitch black around her, the bright coloured oil lamps of the fair lit the Green shadowlessly. Gratia tugged at Gale’s arm, drawing him closer to the huge metal cages which held wild bears captive. The cool air was alive with cries of “lift” and “pull harder” and “hold!” The sugary smell hung heavy in the air and people in beautiful costumes ran to and fro from tent to tent.

A lady wearing a sun yellow dress ran past, dropping a silk sash carelessly in her hurry. Gratia bent down and plucked it from the grass. It was gorgeous, made of the same glowing yellow cloth that the woman had been wearing. She waved it experimentally in the air and began stepping to a staccato rhythm in her head. Soon, she found herself dancing in circles around Gale and flicking the scrap of silk seductively around his neck. He flashed a mischievous grin and tried to snatch her from her jig, but he was too slow and she too fast. They laughed and continued their game for a moment longer.

Soon they were heading in the direction of the small purple tent that sat huddled away behind the tiger cages. It was embroidered with stars and moons, sewn from pure gold and silver threads. Gale frowned, but followed her anyway, not completely sure what lay inside.

The air was heavy and thick with incense. The moment they stepped inside, Gale realised where they were. It was the fortune teller’s tent. There was an old crone sitting behind a round table. She was sucking on a long thin pipe and wore a red silk sash around her head. She looked half asleep and didn’t bother to look up as they entered.

Gratia’s smile widened. She sat at a vacant chair opposite the woman.

“Ch’achechiam falieb demiar ch’ai?” she asked, grinning at the crone.

The hag smiled and nodded. She held out her hand and raised an eyebrow at Gale. Gratia turned to him. “Oh please, please let’s have our fortunes read my love! She’s a true gypsy, as am I. Oh, please!”

Gale sighed and shook his head in mock defeat. How could he refuse her anything? He dug deep into his leather pouch and pulled out a silver coin which he handed to the crone. She bit it, smiled, and put it into her own velvet pouch. Again, Gale shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t believe in such childish nonsense. I shall see you outside when you’re done.” He turned and left.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in such magic. In fact, quite the opposite, he believed that it was all too real. He felt slightly more at ease in the cool night air. Those people always gave him the creeps. It wasn’t natural to know what was going to happen to you. If everyone knew what was going to happen the next day, there’d be no point in getting out of bed. He looked around wearily and saw a young boy with a tray strapped around his body. On the tray lay several well baked pies. Gale made his way over to them, he was hungry.

Gratia smiled at the lady and waited tentatively as she folded and drew several parchment circles. It felt good to see another gypsy. It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone in her own tongue, but the crone did not look like the type of person who welcomed idle banter, so she refrained from making light conversation.

Carefully, the hag began to turn the cards over. Gratia watched with bated breath. She had no idea what the colourful pictures meant, but they looked official so she waited for the old woman’s translation.

The woman frowned and then rearranged the cards into some sort of pyramid. She let out a long “hmm” and nodded as if understanding the words of some invisible voice. After a few minutes of lip biting ‘hmming’ and ‘aaaing,’ and several rearrangements of the disks, the old woman looked up at Gratia through watery blue eyes.

“Well, my child,” she said in a gypsy tongue. “You have had rather a shaky past. But you have fire in your soul, that much I can see.” Her accent was broken common, as if she had been away from other gypsies for too long and had forgotten how to pronounce her words with full gypsy vigour. “However, the future is a rocky path. One you shall need a lot of courage to travel. You shall make a lot of sacrifices, many of which you will have little control over.”

Gratia frowned. It was all very vague, she wasn’t pointing out anything specific.

“There is tragedy ahead, my little one. But you have the courage and the heart to face it out. An old friend made in childhood shall prove to be an invaluable saviour.” 

This woman clearly had no idea what she was talking about. She was chattering on in a tone that suggested she was reading it from a script. Gratia sighed. She had expected more from a gypsy, yet this woman seemed as if she were making it up in her head. What friend? She had no friends from childhood.

A few minutes later, Gratia emerged from the tent bemused and disappointed.

“So, are you about to become a very rich woman? Marry a prince?” Gale teased.

Gratia smiled a bewildered smile and hugged him. “I already have mine,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek. 

Gale laughed and pulled her closer. “So, what did she tell you?”

“Nothing much. Nothing I couldn’t have made up for myself, that is.”

Gale smirked, partly out of relief. “You mean I spent a whole shilling on nothing?”

Gratia smiled and hugged him.

“But I can see that it made you happy, so I suppose it was worth every penny.” He grinned at her.

A man with a hog’s head mask wobbled past on long wooden stilts, and a group of young boys led the cart horses past to a grazing plot. Gratia patted their flanks as they passed, and stroked their heads. One of them nuzzled her over-enthusiastically and she stepped back to keep her balance as they laughed.

Suddenly, Gale took her elbow with a strong hand and pulled her back towards the animal cages. “We really must be going. Lizzy shall be waiting for us, she’s probably cooked for us.”

Gratia, startled by his sudden change of mood, began to argue. “No, I told her we would go to a tavern after–”

“I’m tired. We should get an early night and then you can come back tomorrow.”

“We.”

“What?”

“We’ll come back tomorrow, you said I–”

“Yes, whatever. We’ll come back tomorrow.” By now he was leading her with haste towards the gates.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, staring at him. 

His jaw was knotted and his brow furrowed. “Nothing is wrong. I am tired, that’s all.”

“No, I can tell, there’s something’s wro–”

“I told you!” He jerked to a stop and sighed. 

Shaking his head, he gently turned her to face him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m behaving like an animal. I just didn’t realise quite how tired I was. Forgive me, I beg you.” He kissed her gently.

Gratia couldn’t contain the irritation that was growing inside her. She hated to be treated like a fool, not being told what was going on. But before she had a chance to express her frustration, Gale apologised and kissed her, making everything better again. She smiled and nodded at him. He was right, after all. She was tired too, and it was time they headed back. There would be plenty of time to explore tomorrow night.

Gale watched her tease the horses. He studied her wide child-like smile as they nuzzled her and welcomed her gentle interest. He loved her when she was like this. She looked so carefree and innocent. One of the larger colts pushed her backwards in a sign of friendship. Gale put out a hand to steady her and they laughed. She was beautiful when she laughed like that.

He looked up to see the young fair hand leading the horse reluctantly away.

That’s when he saw it. The inevitable horror he had known was going to lie behind the colourful, happy facade of the fair. The face of Delighla Shan, the woman he had once loved. 

And it was too late, she had seen him.