Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I think I like this much better than market,’ Hypatia said, aware that her eyes were likely bulging from their sockets, her mouth gaping as she attempted to take in everything before and around her, all while knowing it was a useless exercise, given the amount of everything on offer.
‘No offence to our market, but this is rather something else entirely.’
‘Well it is a fair, not a market,’ Thorn commented wryly, and she made a face, shaking her head.
‘A few months in the country and you become an expert, I see. I suppose you think yourself very clever.’
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
‘Well come on then, show me around, My Lord Expert,’ Hypatia ordered playfully, wrapping her arm around his.
‘As my lady commands.’
Straightening, assuming a jestingly pompous and self-important air, Thorn led them on into the fray; and what a fray it was.
Set on a grand swathe of land just south-east of an otherwise pleasant, but seemingly quiet and tranquil village—where they’d spent the night as it was too far to make the journey from home in a day—the fair had been held in these parts since the Conqueror had established his dominion on the isle, and grown, it appeared, with every passing year.
There was anything anyone could ever want, gathered right here, in tents, and enclosures and carts.
Toys, jewellery, beautifully embroidered linens, ribbons, woollen blankets and gloves, baubles, tradesmen of every denomination showing off their skill and wares—from glasswork to smithing.
There was entertainment—puppet shows and street games—and food galore.
Pies and cakes and biscuits and gingerbread and meats and breads, spiced and cooked any way anyone could desire.
There were exhibitions of tools, and the latest innovations in farming, and there was music, and a few thousand voices talking or touting wares.
There was produce too of course, the freshest vegetables, and sweetest fruits, and naturally, there was the reason they were here; the livestock sales, and displays.
Cattle, chickens, sheep, pigs, goats, ducks, and all the others gathered, some in great numbers, others here as examples of their owners’ mastery in rearing; horses trotted along with ribbons in their tails and manes, and cattle or goats lumbered and leapt with clanging bells upon them.
It was the most beautiful semi-organised chaos Hypatia had ever witnessed, and it filled her not only with excitement, but hope too, and a hunger to learn, to experience, to be part of this life, this innovation, this work, more than ever before.
Thorn seemed just as invigorated, as they wandered and were pushed by crowds here and there, trying to visit and experience as much as they could, sample and learn about as much as they could, and it heartened her more than she could put into words.
The last couple months since that day by the seaside, and those visits from their past, had continued to be that potent blend of hard, and good.
It had continued to be a blend of working the farm, growing it, and their relationships with neighbours, surrounding villages and markets, and working on Gadmin Hall itself, slowly, but surely.
A blend of buying furniture, getting Belinda and Clyde into prize-winning form, and enjoying more delightful dinners with friends, who seemed to multiply with every passing day; be it Malek—who was settling in nicely, and already busy with orders that Thorn sometimes assisted him with—or other local landowners or tenants.
It was working their first harvest, toiling in the fields, and protecting their crops from the increasing but so far not too destructive end-of-summer storms, and spending moonlit midnights in hers and Thorn’s stream.
It was not days ago attending Sandham’s harvest festival, and dancing by fires to the tune of flutes and fiddles, and hosting their own end-of-harvest celebration with their many friends and neighbours. It was everything.
Thorn himself had been…himself. They spoke as profoundly as they had before, though not as often; still Hypatia felt she grew to learn a little more of him every day.
Enough at least, to know for instance, that in the past couple months, he’d looked at her differently—though she’d not quite had the courage to ask what provoked that, and it didn’t really matter, since it was soft, and sweet, and tender, and settled.
It didn’t matter that he felt more distant—or perhaps preoccupied was the word; he was present, vitally, with her, more passionate and stalwart than ever, and he would speak to her of whatever preoccupied him in time.
Likely it was just the harvest, and all the rest to be done to prepare for winter in the coming weeks, which had and continued to preoccupy too, not only by the amount of work—and workers to keep happy—but also by the new skills to learn, and new season yet to greet them.
As much as Hypatia relished the new challenges, the new knowledge, growing what they had already even more, she had to admit, everything in their life presented a risk just now, even if they were at a sort of pleasantly productive—including financially—state at last.
But then, such was life, really.
‘It’s nearly time, I think,’ Thorn said, taking out the pocket watch she’d gifted him for his birthday a few weeks ago—which he’d only mentioned by accident—a necessity more than a trinket, or so she’d promised him; no matter that she’d had it engraved with poppies.
‘We should make our way to wherever it is we are going,’ he said with a light huff, his head craning above the crowd to get his bearings.
‘I admit, it all looked rather differently last night, without all the people.’
‘There, I think,’ Hypatia pointed, spotting the church spire of the nearest village. She’d noticed it looking closer last evening when they’d come with Danny to drop off Belinda and Clyde for today’s showing. ‘I think it should be the general direction of that way.’
‘How very precise, my dear. Perhaps you should explore navigation or map-making as your next occupations.’
‘Perhaps I shall,’ she said, as Thorn led the way, navigating the crush and din. Though she doubted that would ever be her life, they sounded interesting enough, so she wouldn’t mind exploring them more. ‘I cannot believe we’ve been here three hours already. I did not see the time pass.’
‘Neither did I. Though I’m glad we came early, at the very least some good ideas for investment, particularly as regards some of those tools and contraptions for the farm. And we did get our gift-shopping done for everyone.’
‘Very true, and very clever of us for being so prepared and organised,’ Hypatia laughed gently.
‘I must say, having seen this… I don’t know that I can even begin to imagine the scale of the show in Oxford.
Admittedly, I’m not sorry we missed our chance this year, as I don’t think I would’ve been prepared for that. ’
‘Me neither.’
‘Perhaps next year. If—when—we win here, it will be a very good start, and we shall have quite a while to enjoy our laurels and prepare to obtain new ones.’
‘As you say,’ Thorn smiled distractedly.
Something about the manner in which he said that, struck Hypatia as a bit odd, but then she dismissed it as distraction too, for they’d arrived at the wooden stage—decorated with banners and fanions—where the swine showing was about to commence.
Thorn once again examined it all from his vantage, and led them to the front of the gathered crowd, though slightly to the side, so there was a few more inches to breathe.
‘And remember,’ the announcer or presenter, or whatever he was meant to be called, boomed out from onstage.
‘All these glorious and impressive animals are available for purchase at our auction following this presentation and prize, in the tent to my right!’ he told the assembled crowd, showing the thing.
The crowd itself was a strange beast, Hypatia thought—a mix of farmers, locals, visitors of every class, people of the trade such as butchers, children, and so much more—half-caught between cheering as one would for a show, commenting quietly, or conducting business as it all went on before them.
‘I’m nervous too,’ Thorn whispered, leaning down to do so best he could by her ear, which was somewhat complex due to her rather large bonnet; sans grapes.
He placed a kiss on her cheek too, and she calmed somewhat, at least outwardly, for inside she was still a jittering jar of flying ants.
‘We did all we could, and whatever happens, we will be seen.’
‘I know,’ she breathed, steadying herself in his gaze, as she found she so often did now.
Staying herself by marking all the familiar lines and details of him; as one might take comfort in reading a beloved book over and over again.
‘It is likely foolish to hope that we might win…so many others have worked as hard as we, and we are new to this still, however, I cannot help myself.’
‘Neither can I,’ Thorn admitted, taking strength she hoped, from her too for a few moments, before they turned back to the stage.
The show itself was edifying and educational.
Hypatia tried her hand at studying the beasts as those more informed in the crowd did—trying to note and distinguish aspects the presenter pointed out, neighbouring watchers or the judges all set on the stage now did—as it helped focus her mind away from their own entries.
From what she saw before Belinda and Clyde were brought out—all pigs being presented one after the other, though there were separate prizes for hogs and sows today—they would at the very least make a good show of it.