‘Have you looked inside?’ asked Jem.
The girl shrugged. ‘Why should I? There’s no noise and no light in there.’
Urgently Jem pushed her aside and raced up the steps, throwing open the door. In the half darkness he saw that Long Tom was spreadeagled face down on the floor with Billy’s chains in a tumbled heap beside his hand.
Cold water wiped over the tall man’s white face revived him and in a little while he was able to sit up, rub his neck and groan, ‘It was that brute Billy. He could have broken my neck. He pole-axed me.’
‘But where’s Alice? She was with him,’ Jem asked anxiously. The loss of Billy was bad enough but to lose Alice was worse, especially now he knew that she was in trouble with the law.
‘She went off earlier. She told me to tell you that some lass called Grace’s getting married. She was so excited you’d have thought she was the bride herself. Oh, my head hurts!’ groaned Tom again.
Jem stood up with a look of confusion on his face. ‘Alice went to a wedding? And how was Billy then? You must have had some idea that he was going to attack you. Was he excited? Did he fight you?’
Tom was able to stagger to his feet by this time. ‘Not a bit, he was quiet as a lamb. I never thought for a minute… I even gave him a drink of whisky from my bottle.’
Jem put both hands up to his head and shouted, ‘You gave him whisky! That’s the worst thing you could do. How much did he drink? He’ll go mad. Oh, my God, he’ll kill somebody. We’ve got to find him – and I need to find my Alice. Close the show and send everybody out to look for Billy. I’ll go after Alice.’
The fairground was still packed full of people but the crowd now was made up of adults, many of them helplessly drunk and others looking for trouble. This was the time when respectable folk with their families stayed at home and the fights started. The squad of men from Jedburgh, whose duty it was to keep law and order, patrolled up and down wearing their distinguishing black bonnets with red and white rosettes, and carrying heavy cudgels in their hands.
Even these patrols kept well away from the area that the gypsies claimed as their own. It was left to them to do their own policing. In past years men had been murdered among the Romany people but the body was lifted and taken away by his tribe with nothing being done by the authorities to follow up the killing. The gypsies themselves never forgot those slayings, however, and ancient blood feuds ran high among them.
The Kirk Yetholm people had two main enemies among their own race. The families who came from Lochmaben were generally hated but the greatest loathing was reserved for the Romanies from Alnwick who were led by a man known as the Earl of Hell, a title that had been passed down from gypsy chief to chief through the centuries. The Alnwick Romanies were as bloodthirsty and savage as their leader’s name suggested. By the time darkness engulfed the fairground, all the gypsies were out in force with those from Alnwick and Lochmaben crowing in delight about Yetholm’s Jesse Bailey being beaten in the jumping by a chavi. Well before midnight a series of minor fights had taken place and a good deal of drink had been consumed. Gib Faa was marshalling his men for a proper battle. ‘I’ve just been told it was definitely an Alnwick man who fired the pistol that scared Barbary,’ he told his followers. ‘We’ve got to take revenge.’
Jesse, sitting with his arms around his knees on the edge of the conclave, staring into the blazing fire, shook his head. ‘Let it be, Gib. The chavi deserved to win for her nerve alone. We’ll get the last laugh because I’ve entered Barbary in the big race at Caverton Edge tomorrow and we’ll win it. None of the horses from Alnwick or Lochmaben will be able to catch him – I’m certain of that.’
But Gib was drunk and combative. ‘That’ll not stop them talking. There has to be a battle,’ he slurred.
Jesse stood up angrily. ‘Another battle, more murros. Who’s to be a corpse this year? You, Gib? Or one of you…’ His finger stabbed out indicating other men sitting around the fire. ‘Well, count me out. I’m not going to make a corpse just because you think that the Alnwick lot have played a dirty trick on you.’
Angrily he strode off, fuming inside. ‘Will they never learn?’ he asked himself, remembering previous Fairs and previous fights. There was the year his own father was stabbed and later the one when Gib’s brother died, with his head bashed in by Lochmaben cudgels. There had never been a year when a Fair did not end with at least broken arms and legs, stab wounds and more festering hatred.
Jesse could not understand why his people always had to react to insult or persecution with deviousness, trickery or burning resentment. They were certainly not prepared to turn the other cheek for their morality was based on different precepts to the Christianity which had been taught to Jesse by the old minister. It was difficult for him to reconcile the two philosophies and the gypsy part of him wrestled hard with the teachings of a man he had admired.
‘Oh, what am I going to do?’ he groaned to himself again. There were many things to consider, so many confusing elements to be taken into account. His love of the open road and freedom made it impossible for him to consider settling down to a job as a farm labourer, not that any farmer would hire him for gypsies had a bad name. He drew back from the idea of committing a crime that would win him a sentence of transportation to Australia for that idea was risky and convict life was brutalising. Anyway, there was no guarantee that the judge at his trial would not be feeling liverish and decide to hang him instead of sending him to Botany Bay.
During the French Wars, gypsies who wanted to get away joined the Army in place of better off men who had been balloted to go. Sometimes they were well paid for doing so but that escape route had gone now too for since peace had come, discharged soldiers were wandering the roads as tramps and to beg was bitter for a proud man.
Simon Archer’s Circus Royale offered Jesse an opportunity. He had done a turn in the ring that evening and knew that it had been well received, though it had not been spectacular. In time he’d be able to build up the act and thought that he might even enjoy circus life – at least it would mean travelling all the time. Yes, he thought, I’ll join the circus. After he’d raced Barbary at Caverton Edge the next day, he’d go back to the Archers and offer to join up with them, and then, when he’d saved up enough money he’d strike out for himself. Money, I need money, he thought, and smiled ruefully as he remembered the brown-skinned girl who out-jumped him for the ten pound prize. His stomach gave a queer lurch at her memory. It was as if she’d bewitched him in some way. She looked capable of it.
Ignoring Gib’s call, he walked away from the circle of plotting men. Flashes of distant lightning illuminated the deep purple sky over his head and he was halfway down the hill when someone ran up alongside him. A hand stroked his arm and Thomassin’s voice whispered, ‘Jesse, Jesse, come and sit with me.’ She indicated a cluster of women who were sitting around another fire and he allowed himself to be led over to its welcoming circle. When he got there he found that old Rachel was talking about the various people she had dukkered during the day. He sat beside Thomassin with his head half-nodding in sleep when he realised Rachel was telling her audience about the chavi who had won the jumping contest.
That brought him to full wakefulness and to listen intently as the old woman spat on to the ground and said, ‘A strange girl won the jumping prize from Jesse. There’s a mystery about that one. She thought she’d get away with dressing like a bondager but I could jin her. Her wast was as soft as silk.’
Jesse was about to say, ‘Yes, that’s because she’s a rich merchant’s daughter in disguise,’ but Thomassin interrupted him.
‘What did you see in her hand?’ she asked, in a voice that rose sharply above the others.
‘I saw riches, love, hatred, danger, distance… voyaging far and near like a gypsy.’ Old Rachel laughed. ‘It was a fine hand.’
Thomassin leaned forward with her eyes glistening and asked, ‘What about her man? What did you see about her pireno? Will she get rommed?’
<
br /> ‘Oh aye, she’ll be married. To a man that’s bango-wasted. When I told her that she jumped up and ran away as if she’d been stabbed.’
‘You’re a faker,’ shouted Thomassin, also standing up angrily.
‘Meklis, hold your tongue,’ said another of the women sharply. ‘Rachel’s only telling you what she saw.’
Thomassin pointed at Jesse sitting by her side, ‘But he’s bango-wasted and that chavi was casting the glamourie on him today! I saw her. I felt it.’
He stood up too and glared at the girl as he shouted, ‘I can do a bit of dukkering too. I know who that girl is. She’s a merchant’s daughter from Lauriston. There’s no way a girl like that’s going to marry a gypsy. Anyway I’m not the only man in the world who’s bango-wasted!’ Then he turned and strode away into the darkness. He could not understand why he felt so angry.
* * *
Before Canny left the Cross Keys Hotel with Thompson, he had ordered his daughter to go back to Havanah Court. For once she did not argue because there was a look in her father’s eye that told her he was in no mood to stand for rebellion.
When she reached home she lay down on her bed fully dressed and waited for news. The oppressive heat promised thunder and made her remember spectacular tropical storms when rain used to beat down on the fronds of the palm trees around her old home and she sat on the verandah with Elma, her black nursemaid, enjoying the thrill of the deluge. The thundering noise of falling rain always made her feel safe and very happy…
It took a few seconds to bring herself back to the present when Joe Cannonball knocked on the door and came into the room looking very concerned.
‘There’s someone to speak to you, Baby,’ he said.
‘Who is it?’ she asked apprehensively.
Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He says his name’s Armstrong – it suits him.’
She followed Joe down to the hall where Mary’s swain was waiting, suspiciously eyeing the glories of Canny’s interior decoration. Odilie was very glad to see him and her face lit up with a smile as she asked, ‘What’s happened? Is Grace all right?’
He grinned back. ‘A woman with black hair got her out. Now she’s gone with Mary and her brother to the marriage place. They sent me to tell you to come.’
Odilie laughed and threw up her hands, her anxiety completely assuaged by the news. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she exclaimed, ‘I’ll come straight away.’
When she looked around for the shawl she expected Joe to throw over her shoulders, his face was grim. ‘You’re going no place on your own at this time of night, Miss Odilie. I don’t even know this fellow,’ he pronounced.
‘Oh Joe, but I know him. He’s Grace’s young man’s sister’s fiancé…’ She laughed at the intricacy of this explanation and went on, ‘He’s all right, Joe. I’ll be completely safe with him.’
‘You ain’t going any place without me,’ persisted Joe. ‘It don’t sound like the right time for any wedding if you ask me, but if you’re set on going, I’m coming with you.’
In a trio, they marched out of the house with Joe in the middle towering above the other two. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what Canny’ll say about this,’ he kept muttering as he strode along.
Patie Mudie had been sleeping on the floor of his tent when Grace and Adam burst in. Adam shook him by the shoulder and cried out, ‘Wake up, wake up. We want to get married.’
Patie grunted and shook his head. ‘It’s late,’ he groaned, looking at the enormous metal watch he carried on his person.
‘Are we too late?’ asked Adam but Patie shook his head again.
‘You’re too late for a pound, though. At this time of the night it’ll be two guineas.’
The young man searched his pockets and brought out a handful of coins which he hurriedly counted before saying, ‘That’s all right. I can find enough.’
Patie stood up yawning. ‘Where’s your witnesses? You’re got to have two witnesses or it’s not legal. They’ve got to see you take each other as man and wife,’ he told them.
‘They’re coming, here’s one of them now,’ cried Grace as Mary came running up to the tent, her face alight with excitement.
‘Jockie’s gone to fetch your friend,’ she panted out to Grace.
‘I hope he hurries up then,’ grumbled Patie. ‘A man needs his sleep.’
The complaint was hardly out of his mouth when Jockie, Odilie and Joe Cannonball came hurrying over the uneven grass. At the sight of Odilie’s manservant, Patie’s eyes rolled and the dogs in the tent set up a chorus of frenzied barking which was to continue all through the ceremony.
In spite of her delight for Grace, Odilie’s heart gave a stab of envy when she saw the young couple standing hand in hand at the door of Mudie’s tent but she immediately reproached herself for selfishness and cried out as she ran towards them, ‘How happy I am for you! God bless you both!’ Then she embraced them and told Adam, ‘When this is finished, come across to our stables with me. I’m going to give you a horse as a wedding present. It’ll carry you back to your Cheviot Hills.’
‘Come in, come in,’ came an impatient voice from inside the tent and they all looked round to see Patie Mudie holding open the flap to allow them to enter. His voice was as lugubrious as if he was about to conduct a funeral ceremony and not a marriage.
His wife, who had been sleeping unnoticed like a curled-up hedgehog at the back of the tent, was wakened too by this time and was writing out a marriage certificate on a grubby-looking sheet of paper that she had propped on to a wooden lectern.
‘Is this your other witness?’ asked Patie indicating Odilie, who nodded brightly. His tone did not lighten when he said, ‘In that case, we’ll proceed.’
He smelt of snuff and brandy when he stepped towards the couple, turned them to face each other and took the right hand of each.
‘What’s your name, lad?’ was his first question to Adam.
‘Adam Scott.’
‘Are you Adam Scott?’ asked Patie and Adam looked surprised before clearing his throat and saying solemnly, ‘Yes I am.’
‘You’re no’ merrit already, are you?’
‘No.’
Patie moved his rheumy eyes to Grace. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Grace Elliot.’ She knew what to expect by this time. ‘Are you Grace Elliot?’ came his question.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was quavering with emotion in spite of the absurdity of the whole business.
‘You’re no merrit either?’
‘No.’
‘You want to marry now?’
‘Yes,’ sighed the couple looking into each other’s eyes.
‘You want to marry each other?’
‘Yes,’ they chorused.
Mudie put Grace’s hand into Adam’s and then gabbled, ‘In that case, according to the law of Scotland and before these witnesses, I declare that you have taken each other as man and wife. That’s it, you’re married.’
He dropped their hands and turned to his wife saying, ‘Where’s the brandy bottle, missus? I’m fair dry.’
Odilie stood thunderstruck behind the newlyweds and gave a gasp of disappointment. ‘Is that all?’ she asked.
Patie turned back to glare at her. ‘It’s enough. It’s all that’s needed. They’ll get their bit of paper when I get my fee.’
‘Are you sure that this is legal?’ asked Odilie imperiously.
‘As sure as death. It’s legal, all right. I’ve married nobs, lords and ladies and some of them have wished it wasn’t legal because they weren’t able to get out of it when they changed their minds. So it’s legal, don’t you worry about that. Scots law’s different from English law. As long as two witnesses see the couple take each other as husband and wife, it’s legal.’
He held out a grubby paw in Adam’s direction. ‘Two guineas, laddie. That was the bargain, wasn’t it?’
Adam was reaching into his pocket for the money when the tent flap lifted and Alice Archer came rushing in. She ran over
to Grace and held her close, one hand on the back of the girl’s golden head pressing it into her own shoulder. Both of them began sobbing as they clung together. ‘Oh, my dear daughter. Oh, my darling,’ cried Alice.
Embarrassed, everyone except Patie and his barking dogs looked away till the two women recovered themselves. Then, wiping her eyes, Alice asked, ‘It’s not over, is it? I haven’t missed it?’
Grace was reeling with shock. ‘You really are my mother. You’re Lucy Allen?’ she asked in a bemused voice.
‘Yes, I am, and it’s a miracle that we met. Oh, Grace, I’m so proud of you,’ wept Alice, holding her arms out again.
‘Oh, Mother,’ cried Grace, who was weeping too.
They clung together for a long time till Alice loosened her hold on the girl and gently asked, ‘Have I missed your wedding? Is it over?’
‘Yes, I’m married – Mother,’ Grace told her and Alice’s face showed enormous disappointment. ‘Oh, how I wanted to see you marry. I wanted that so much,’ she gasped, and looked so harrowed that even Patie Mudie’s stone heart softened.
He stepped forward to offer, ‘Och, don’t you worry, missus. I’ll do it again if you like. Might as well, I’m up anyway. It’ll cost you another pound, though.’
‘Daylight robbery,’ snorted Odilie, reaching into her pocket for a golden coin. ‘But here’s a guinea. Make it longer this time.’
He did not know any other formula however, and seconds later they were re-married by the same words. Then Patie’s mousey wife stepped forward with a broad smile on her face and presented the newly-married pair with a rolled up sheet of paper. Adam unrolled it and read out, ‘This is to sartify that on this day of August 3rd, 1816, Grace Elliot and Adam Scott took each other in marriage before Peter Mudie and the following witnesses at St. James’ Fair in Lauriston. The witnesses were…’
The place for witnesses’ names were blank and Patie’s wife told Odilie and Mary, ‘Here’s the pen, fill in your own names or make your marks if you can’t write. Then my Patie’ll sign it and it’ll all be legal.’
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