The Posthorn Inn

by The Posthorn Inn (retail) (epub)

  He was silent as they climbed higher towards the cliff top, considering several approaches to the subject of her misery but abandoning them all, afraid of saying a wrong word. He settled finally for not asking any questions but telling her about the return of Ben Gammon and his theatrical arrival at the receiving office. She smiled a little but showed none of her usual gaiety.

  Mistress Powell sat outside the cottage door, a thick woollen shawl on her head and shoulders and a blanket tucked around her knees. She waved as they appeared, and Barrass went to talk to her. When he looked around for Olwen to share in his words, the girl had gone.

  * * *

  Olwen went across the fields to the Morgans’ cottage and saw that smoke was issuing from the chimney. She sighed with relief. That usually meant Vanora was at home. Vanora must have seen her coming because as she reached the edge of the field, the young woman stood in the doorway and waved to her.

  ‘Olwen, can you run at once for the doctor? Morgan and Madoc are both far from well.’

  With guilty relief, Olwen agreed and hurried towards the house where the doctor lived, two miles away. The unexpected freedom from the summons to go and see Madoc was like sunshine bursting through a dirt encrusted window, surprising and utter joy. The four-mile walk was nothing, and when she reapproached the house she saw the doctor’s horse outside and knew that as he had come as commanded, she could hardly be blamed for not being able to talk with Madoc alone. Almost light-heartedly she went to the door and sat to wait until the doctor had finished.

  The two brothers were sitting against the walls of the house, covered with stale smelling blankets, obviously in pain. When Vanora went to draw some water from the stream, Madoc held out a feverish hand and forced Olwen to set beside him. The smell of sickness choked her so she breathed as shallowly as she could, but she knew she must not complain.

  ‘Daniels is asking questions about some money stolen from the receiving office,’ Madoc told her between bouts of coughing. ‘We weren’t there, but it’s best he thinks we were miles away. He will ask you if you were with us all yesterday afternoon. You will say yes, won’t you, Olwen?’

  ‘Please, Madoc, don’t make me come here any more. I’ll tell Daniels anything you wish, but don’t threaten Barrass. Please.’

  ‘We walked together, you, me and Morgan, a way past Longland. You’ll remember clearly, won’t you, Olwen-the-fish? Come tomorrow and if you talk to Barrass, he will find it impossible to convince Daniels of his innocence. That I promise you.’

  Olwen looked at the sickly brothers and wondered why it had been Polly and Seranne who had died and not them. Something of her thoughts must have showed as Morgan warned, ‘My brother isn’t one for idle threats, Olwen-the-fish. Think careful before you rebel.’

  She felt unclean and when she reached the sea she bathed, throwing off all her clothes and letting the warm, silky water take away the stink of the Morgans’ cottage and her own humiliation. Walking the cliffs until it was too dark to see, she returned home and went straight to her bed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The September Fair at Neath was held on the first of the month and in the year 1781, this was a Saturday. Barrass was disappointed not to be able to attend, but his letters meant he would be travelling Gower and would not be free until late on the following day.

  ‘Come with me to get the licence to set up my stall,’ Spider suggested. ‘It’s best we do that on Friday, so we can get there early and begin selling as soon as the people start arriving.’

  ‘At least I’ll be able to see the start of it,’ Barrass said. ‘Although the setting up is not as exciting, seeing the travellers and entertainers arriving and practising their various tricks will be worth the long ride.’

  Friday was the one day of the week Barrass was not involved with the post. He usually spent it helping Pitcher but the innkeeper willingly excused him. Setting off beside Spider on one of Pitcher’s horses to give Jethro his usual day of freedom in the field above the quarry, he arrived at the middle of the day when already the town was in festival mood.

  The streets were full of carts and wagons bringing the travelling tradesmen and entertainers. These were followed by processions of children already in the grip of the excitement the Fair Day brought. There was a long queue of people waiting to seek permission of the portreeve to erect their stalls, and Spider patiently joined it.

  Barrass wandered through the streets and watched as people fought for the best sites, some even pulling down rival stalls and fighting for possession, rolling on the ground and cuffing each other. The roads entering the town were near to standstill on occasions when a cart overturned or lost a wheel, and everywhere there was shouting and arguing and bawled instructions.

  Barrass had always enjoyed Fair Day, but this year the excitement failed to penetrate the misery that filled his heart. If Olwen had been with him how wonderful the day would have been, he thought sadly. When she offered her love he had treated it like a joke, and now when he thought of no one else for every moment he was awake, she shunned him.

  When he returned to the portreeve’s office he found Spider tucking into some juicy roasted pork from a vendor who had set up a spit at the side of the road. Joining him, Barrass watched the hustle and bustle of the town preparing for a holiday, smiling with Spider at the scene but his mood was still far from cheerful.

  The intention of Spider was to stay at Neath overnight and go and meet Mary, Dan and Olwen on the following day, but the houses which advertised rooms to let were all full, some having eight to a small room with beds lying side by side, wall to wall with another person given the place alongside their feet. With luggage firmly grasped in their hands it was unlikely any of them would sleep soundly.

  ‘You either sleep under a hedge or ride back with me,’ Barrass laughed when Spider had been offered a small, narrow strip of an unbelievably minute room, ‘unless you can fold yourself up like some of these contortionists do and hide your long legs in your own pocket!’

  Barrass was tired after the ride but insisted on working beside Arthur and Pitcher for the rest of the evening. He sensed an unusual excitement in Arthur and wondered what it was about a Fair Day that stimulated such expectation of pleasure. It must be more than a day free from work?

  He went into town very early on the following morning and the road from Mumbles was already filled with those making the pilgrimage to the Fair. He searched the crowd of walkers and riders, most carrying goods to sell, all laughing with the prospect of the fun-filled day; but he did not see Olwen.

  He had to wake Walter from his bed but it was he who once again entered the last-minute letters into the ledger and put the money he had collected into the new, reinforced box. He left Walter sipping a mug of coffee and trying to rouse himself sufficiently to deal with the day’s activities and set off back to Mumbles. He did not notice the two inspectors standing watching the proceedings through the open door of the office. The rising tide of people heading for the town of Neath almost blocked the road and he rode slowly, the only one travelling westward, as he headed back to The Posthorn Inn and his breakfast.

  * * *

  Olwen walked beside her mother and took turns at carrying Dic. Now over a year old he was impatient of being carried and wanted to use his sturdy legs. He rode on Spider’s shoulder contentedly for a while, laughing at the view he had over the heads of the rest. Olwen wished she too could ride at Spider’s height in case Barrass had somehow managed to come.

  A cart passed, the driver sounding a horn, the passengers accompanying the strident demand with shouted instructions to clear the way. She ducked down below her mother’s shoulder, recognizing the voices of Morgan and Madoc. She did not want to be seen riding with them, increasing an ever stronger impression that she belonged to Madoc.

  ‘There’s a chance for you to ride,’ Mary said as the cart pushed past close to them. ‘Don’t you want to be there before us and see the preparations?’

  ‘No Mam, and please,
don’t let them see me.’ Like a child, Olwen clung to her mother’s thick serge skirt and lowered her small body to a crouch. Mary glanced at Spider and frowned. If only Olwen would tell her what was wrong. Philosophically she whispered to her husband, ‘Tell us in her own time. There’s no pushing that one!’

  When they reached the town there seemed nowhere to go. Every thoroughfare was crammed with people pushing their way up or down. It was still early in the day, many visitors had left before dawn, and the crowd was still good-natured in its protests. They managed to find a place on the outskirts of the stalls to sit on the grass and take some refreshments from the many stalls offering every possible drink from ‘Good fresh water drawn from Neath springs’, to ‘Chocolate, the latest London fashion.’

  While Mary and Spider began to set up their stall from the boxes of goods Emma had brought for them on her overloaded wagon, Olwen was free to walk with Dic to see the sights. With such a confusion in the main streets she decided to begin at the edges of the town.

  Beyond the houses amid the trees were dozens of gypsy caravans, each family bringing noise, colour and exotic beauty to the normally quiet green fields. From the caravans, brightly dressed children tumbled and ran towards the activities offered. Beside the wooden, horse-drawn homes, fires burned, sending smoke up into the clear blue sky. Shyly, Olwen approached a girl of her own age dressed in red, her dress and headdress trimmed with gold and said, ‘You have come to sell?’

  ‘My father is an entertainer who has appeared in the theatre at Bath,’ the girl said proudly, but before Olwen could ask anything more, the girl’s mother called to her in a strange tongue and she ran back to the caravan.

  Working her way slowly towards the main streets, Olwen was fascinated by the variety of food being prepared and carried through the crowd. In one place a clay oven had been built and delicious smelling pies were brought from it. They were placed on trays hung about women’s necks on brightly coloured ribbons and quickly sold. Olwen bought one and sat on the ground to share it with her brother.

  It was in the street that most of the selling was done, with stalls selling a mixture of clothing, food and medicines, plus a wide assortment of household utensils made from wood and metal. Each bowl, brush and tool went with a promise that, ‘it will double the housemaid’s capacity for work once it has been placed in the kitchen’.

  The gypsies promised to tell a person’s future for the small offering of ’silver to cross my palm’. Olwen touched the coins in her pocket but would not risk being told she would marry someone other than Barrass.

  Beyond the closely packed street many entertainments were on offer, the owners creating further din shouting of their ‘good. safe rides full of excitement’, or ‘the sight of a lifetime for the payment of one penny’. There was a wooden roundabout pushed around a thick central pole by several small boys who, from their bright attire, were children from the caravans. Olwen paid a halfpenny for Dic to ride, her mood lightened briefly as she watched him shout with fear-filled excitement.

  Rope swings were set up in convenient trees and were of varying heights to suit customers’ bravery or lack of it. The ropes were garlanded with flowers, streamers that swung with the riders, spreading dancing tails of red and orange and green in rich profusion. Briar roses were included twisted around with lengths of ivy, but most of the blossoms were made from shaped and painted wood, dyed with colours from the countryside; again, the gypsies seemed to be the proprietors.

  With Dic on her lap, Olwen sailed high above the crowd, her last extravagance before finding her mother and helping to sell the woollen garments they had all helped to make, and the home-made Welsh cakes, drop scones and biscuits Mary had cooked over the hearth on a bake stone.

  She had just caught sight of the tall thin figure of Spider helping someone to load the goods he had bought from him onto his pack mule when a hand touched her and a voice she dreaded to hear said, ‘Olwen. We have been searching for you, my dear.’

  ‘Madoc. I thought you had not come,’ she lied.

  ‘With all this produce to sell? Why should we not?’ He gestured to a stall behind him where eggs were piled into a wooden basket alongside apples, pears and an enormous amount of assorted vegetables. Olwen noticed that many of them were broken as if pulled in haste. There were rows of wild and domestic ducks and chickens and, displayed from hooks, hares, rabbits and pheasants. A sheepdog puppy was tethered to the front of the stall whining in fear as people crowded it against the wooden supports. Morgan was doing excellent trade, having lowered his prices to sell early.

  ‘Where did you get these?’ she gasped. The garden surrounding the cottage was empty of crops. She glanced fearfully around, dreading to see Daniels’s sharp eyes watching them.

  ‘From Barrass,’ Madoc smiled, ‘or that’s what I’ll tell the Keeper of the Peace if he should ask!’

  Watching from the half shade of a nearby stall, Markus sat astride a small pony. At his side stood the watchman with his hand on the pony’s bridle in case it was frightened into flight. Markus wore a hat with a floppy brim which hid his eyes but his head was towards Olwen and her companion.

  Turning, Madoc saw the man and unaware of his returned sight, gestured towards him and said boldly, ‘In fact, there’s the man who donated most of what I have to sell today. Generous he is for sure.’

  ‘You stole from—?’ Olwen gasped, not daring to utter the name.

  Madoc’s eyes glistened and he stared at the blind man and said, ‘There was a good shower yesterday morning. It made the ground soft and easy for pulling a man’s crops when he isn’t looking your way.’ He leaned closer, gestured towards Markus and added, ‘I’ll swear it was Barrass who did the stealing, mind. Remember that. He’s no favourite of Markus. The man will readily believe that he is a thief.’

  There wasn’t a movement of a facial muscle to indicate that Markus had understood what had been said as he watched Madoc handling the stolen vegetables and glancing his way with triumph on his thin sickly face. His face didn’t display even the faintest hint that he understood, but the still eyes below the brim of the hat saw and digested it all as Madoc continued to look towards him from time to time, relishing his successful thieving. The crowd around the overfull stall thickened as customers offered coins for the fresh produce, and Markus touched his pony’s flanks. The animal pushed its way forward and Markus was soon lost in the crowd.

  * * *

  Emma had come with Daisy and Pansy to buy more sheets for the regular visitors the inn was attracting but she was soon irritated by their suggestions on the best items to buy.

  ‘Go you and look at the entertainment for an hour while I buy what we need,’ she said and, leaving her daughters to wander around the stalls and amusements, she searched through the various linen merchants’ offerings to compare prices and get the best bargain. Time and again she went back to each stall, pushing her way through to get the seller’s attention, arguing with the proprietors, trying to persuade them with the size of her order to reduce their prices.

  Hunger finally made her realize how much time she had spent, and with little hope she began to examine the faces around her for a sight of her daughters. It was Daisy she found first.

  ‘Where is your sister?’ she asked angrily. ‘I’ve been looking for you for hours!”

  ‘Mamma!’ Daisy protested. ‘You have passed me on three occasions, wrapt in your accounting, frowning over what to buy!’

  ‘Well, whatever,’ Emma muttered. ‘You’re here now and I want you to find Pansy so we can go and find some food. I want Arthur too. He must collect the goods I’ve chosen, take them to the cart and guard them. As soon as we’ve eaten we will go home. This crowd and noise tires me so.’

  The people pushing their way towards the area where food was being cooked caught them up in their inexorable determination and they found themselves a prisoner beside the stall where pork was sold. Unable to free themselves, Emma handed the owner some money and was handed a joint f
or each of them. Once they were armed with the proof that they had purchased they were allowed passage by those still waiting to buy and at last they were outside the throng, sitting on the ground chewing on the food.

  ‘I expect Arthur and Pansy have money to buy themselves food. We’ll soon find them.’

  Uneasy at the joining together of the names of her daughter and her potboy, Emma threw down the remainder of the joint and stepped swiftly away from the dogs who quarrelled over ownership.

  ‘I think we should search for them, Daisy!’ she said firmly.

  Once most people had assuaged their hunger, the crowd divided into circles around the entertainments. The dancing bear was taken from its cage and was soon surrounded by admirers. In a smaller booth geese were dancing, encouraged by the cruel practice of heating the floor on which they stood. Between the isolated knots of people Emma and Daisy walked, but although they travelled through and around the area several times they saw neither Pansy nor Arthur.

  ‘Where can they be?’ wailed Emma. ‘It’s your father’s fault! He should be here with me.’

  ‘How could he, Mamma, the inn can’t be closed on a whim.’

  They met Olwen and her parents, and soon they too were searching but without success, even with Spider’s height enabling him to see above most heads. Emma told Mary of her fears that the young couple had stolen a few hours to spend together and wailed at the difficulties facing a doting mother when her daughters were both beautiful and wayward.

  Olwen wandered away from them on the pretence of looking in the vicinity of the gypsy caravans and she found, not Pansy and Arthur, but Daniels and a group of men armed with heavy sticks. Beside them was Markus and his watchman.

  She ran to where she could hear what they were saying and heard to her alarm that it was Madoc they were seeking. For Barrass’s sake he had to be found and warned. The last place she had seen him was where a fire-eater was performing. She ran there, her heart fluttering, her eyes trying to look in all directions at once so she saw nothing but a blur. As she reached the self-titled ‘Prince of Fire’, the crowd around him fell back and a huge gout of flame shot out above their heads amid screams. In the startled faces nearest to her she saw Madoc and Morgan.