She pointed to the bluish balls in several stalls and told Talon that these were woad. The raw dye powder was taken from the plant that the area was famous for. The plant was dried, then ground into powder and made into balls to be sold down the river to cities like Toulouse as a cloth dye.
There were game birds still with all their feathers hanging from stall beams, some already rank from days of hanging. There were ducks, pheasants, and some fowl Talon did not recognize. Aicelina told him they were ground birds from up in the hills. The nearby cooking stalls gave off mouth-watering scents of baked pies, cooked meats, and stewed eels that followed them down the road.
To Guillaume’s delight, Talon bought them all a small, hot, sweetmeat pie each, which they ate as they walked. The appetizing smells of cooking were intermixed with the not-so-pleasant stinks of a market day: goats and other animals being run through the streets, and of course the open drains down the middle of the street, which made them all wrinkle their noses and Guillaume to pull a comical face of disgust.
There was the constant risk of stepping in the dung of some animal or something worse, so they picked their way carefully. Aicelina lifted her long skirts away from the mud, displaying a very elegant pair of ankles to Talon’s approving glance.
“Fortunately, it has not rained recently or we would be sloshing though ankle-deep mud,” she remarked to Talon then she smiled at him as she observed where his eyes were looking.
He looked away hastily, feeling the blood go to his face. But then she put her hand on his forearm and left it there, so he knew he was forgiven.
They came to the peddlers and merchants’ stalls farther along the street away from the food vendors. There were utensils of carved wood or beaten copper, beads, threads of many colors, and much in the way of cloth. There were foreign fabrics in rolls, and the wool from England woven into fine cloth in the Lowlands to the far north. On enquiry, the merchant gave them a price and Aicelina shook her head. It was very expensive. She pointed to some colorful, finer cloths and he said they came from the south, from the Saracen lands, and even perhaps from the Holy Land.
Talon was reminded of the merchants he had met in Montpellier and wondered if that group might have come to Albi, as it was not an insignificant town. Aicelina was not there to buy the silks, but she had come to the market to buy some coarse woolen cloth for clothing. They spent some time there fingering the wools, so while she bargained with the peddler, Talon, Anwl, and Guillaume looked around.
His interest quickened when he heard the clink and ring of hammers and recognized the sounds of a smithy at work. It evoked memories of another time for him. Sure enough there was an armourer hard at work with his bellows, a blackened, skinny urchin pumping furiously on the bellows to keep the fires burning hot as the smith beat out some spear heads. The owners of the weapons in for repair were lounging nearby, drinking wine and making lewd remarks about the young maidens as they went by.
Peddlers were to be seen from all over the region and beyond, from Aquitaine and even farther north, as this was a well-known market. Aicelina told him it was second only to the great markets of Carcassonne and Toulouse. They were selling pottery and bijou, knives and utensils, combs of bone and ivory, crudely carved. Talon on impulse bought a small ivory comb for Aicelina. She protested when he bought it and almost refused it when he presented it to her. But he persisted, so with a blush she accepted the small gift. It disappeared into the pocket of her dress quickly. He smiled as she recomposed herself.
Talon was reminded how he felt long ago when Rav’an, Reza, and he had been in Hamadan in distant Persia, and had enjoyed the noise and smells of the market there. He pulled himself back to the present and guided Guillaume along the crowded streets with a hand on his shoulder.
He was unaware that he drew interested looks from the young maidens who were part of the crowd. But their glances did not escape Aicelina, who kept close to Talon while they wended their way toward the center where the main trading would be taking place. There was a friendly festival feel in the air as the jostling crowd of men and women, freedmen and villain alike, rubbed shoulders with each other. Children were everywhere, running in and out of the crowds, playing tag and getting underfoot. No one seemed to mind unless they tangled with a stall and threatened to upset it. Then the stall keeper would shout and wave a threatening fist at them while they ran off cheekily thumbing their noses.
Wine appeared to be flowing freely as men strolled about refreshing themselves with full jugs or leather sacks, and there were already a couple of drunks lying senseless against the walls of the houses.
Talon could not help but notice the way the maidens and young men interacted. There was none of the restraint he had observed in Persia. Here a kiss was given and taken without retribution or embarrassment. Many of the couples embraced publicly in a quiet corner here or there. On one occasion a bold, well-endowed young woman came up to Talon and would have slipped into his arms if Aicelina had not stepped adroitly into her path and, using a smile and a wagged forefinger, informed her that he was off limits. Anwl behind Talon gave a quiet chuckle while Talon grinned with embarrassment and ruffled Guillaume’s head before the boy could say anything.
At one street corner the young maids and men were standing in couples listening to a man in colorful yellow, brown, and red clothing playing a mandolin. He sang with a clear voice, his fingers dancing over the instrument, the music rippling off the strings, bringing what seemed to be a well-known tune to the gathered crowd.
They paused to listen and watch the rapport between the troubadour, as Aicelina called him, and the people gathered around. Even Talon could understand some of the words he sang, although it was in broad Languedoc. There were many bawdy references to love that drew laughter from the young men and giggles from the maidens. He was cheerful and light with his notes and his next song was obviously very popular.
The Troubadour’s voice took on a high note as though imitating a lady’s voice.
“I was plunged into deep distress
By a knight who wooed me,”
“And I wish to confess for all time
How passionately I loved him;”
“Now I feel myself betrayed
For I did not tell him of my love.”
“Therefore I suffer great distress
In bed and when I am fully dressed.”
The crowd cheered and hooted. He continued.
“Would that my knight, might one night
Lie naked in my arms.”
This drew guffaws from the young men and blushes from the maidens.
“And find myself in ecstasy
With me as his pillow
“For I am more in love with him
Than Flores was with Blanchefleur.”
“To him I give my heart and love
My reason, eyes and life.
The Troubadour gave a flourish on his strings and continued the last verse.
“Handsome friend, tender and good
When will you be mine?”
“Oh, to spend with you but one night
To impart the kiss of love”
“Know that with passion I cherish
The hope of you in my husband’s place.
The young people cheered and clapped.
The troubadour finished his song with a flourish of notes and the final lines of the song.
“As soon as you have sworn to me
That you will fulfill my every wish.”
The troubadour put heavy emphasis upon the last line and received a cheer and much clapping from the gathering. He closed with some energetic plucking of his strings, bringing the song to a close amid applause.
Small coins were thrown into his hat that lay nearby. He bowed sardonically to all, winking at the ladies.
Talon smiled. He had enjoyed the interaction and noticed that Aicelina had been laughing at the words of the song; obviously she knew it well.
They moved on but then had to step out to the side
s of the street among the stalls as a party of dignitaries went by. The young man at the head of the procession was obviously a very important person, for everyone bowed and doffed their hats, and the ladies along his path curtsied. He was richly dressed and his coat of arms was woven into his doublet. He wore a huge cap that sported a large feather, wore no armor but had a fine sword at his side. His men-at-arms were well armored in chain hauberks.
Talon noted their hauberks were well maintained and smart, each with a coat of arms emblazoned upon the shield. He was not aware that he’d been staring until the young man rode by and his gaze landed on Talon. Their eyes met and held for a moment. Then the man had ridden by and all Talon saw was his back. His retinue of knights, pages, and ladies followed in a light cloud of incense and heavy perfume.
“Who is that?” Talon asked.
“That is the son of the Count of Carcassonne. His name is Roger.” Aicelina used the expression Com de Carcassonna. “We are honored today. Talon, do you not know about the counts?”
He shook his head.
“Your father is the Count’s vassal, as are all the landed knights of this area. You are distantly related because of the name ‘Gilles’ of the line of Tranceval. As is my family line, but we are even more distant, I think. My father came from Provence, near the city of St Gilles, east of here.”
They continued their interrupted way, joining the noisy crowd as it headed for the jousting arena.
At one point Aicelina was knocked about accidentally by a farmer dragging a reluctant sheep. She almost fell but Talon seized her around the waist and held her, pulling her back upright. Their faces were inches apart at that moment. He looked briefly straight into her eyes. He liked the small quirk of her lips as she thanked him and then he released her. She linked her arm with his again and then took Guillaume’s hand, and with Anwl behind protectively they pushed on. Talon realized with a twinge of guilt that he enjoyed having this girl on his arm.
They arrived with the noisy crowd to witness the beginning of the auctions. The auctioneer was from the south and spoke the fastest Occitan Talon had ever heard, and of which he understood not a word, as he rattled off the bidding for the group of animals for sale. Bidders would raise their hands or staffs as the price went up, guided by the cunning man. He joked, encouraged, and goaded the bidders to pay just that little more than they had intended. His fee depended on it.
Talon glanced about him while they waited for another group of animals to be brought in. There was a commotion as a pig escaped and ran squealing into the crowd. There were shouts of worthless advice and joking encouragement as the poor man herding the animals tried to get it back. Boys ran in front of the pig, playing at being matadors while young girls screamed and clutched their parents.
Talon made sure that Guillaume was safe, even to placing him on his shoulders so that the excited boy could see over the crowd. All the same they had to make way hurriedly for the fleeing pig and his by now very irate herder as they rushed past. They all laughed, enjoying the excitement. The mood of the crowd all about them was infectious. Aicelina pointed toward a street that led off the marketplace and said over the noise, “Let’s go down to the river; they will hold the tournament on the other side. Would you like to see that, Talon?”
He nodded, the noise of people shouting was too great to speak easily to one another, and they pushed their way along the side of the square. They were able to move with more ease down the steep street that led to the Albi bridge known as the Pont Vieux. It was quieter here, so Talon put Guillaume down and Aicelina took his hand firmly to ensure that he stayed with them. Once again she casually put her hand on Talon’s arm and they moved along the street for all the watchers to think they were man and wife, Talon thought, bemused.
The town was built on both sides of the river Tarn, which at this point was about fifty paces wide, and Talon could see that there seemed to be a lot of trade as it was well frequented by barges and other vessels. Aicelina told him that these barges took the dye to cities like Toulouse by way of the river. The main part of the town was built on the hillside on the north side of the river. The houses, densely packed in places, seeming to be pushing against one another as they vied for space down the slopes of the hillside toward the water, some even leaning out precariously over the river itself.
As they came to the bridge, meaning to cross it, they heard the clatter of horses’ hooves behind them and a group of horsemen came boiling down the street behind them. There was a shouted “Way there! Get out of the way! Stop blocking the road!” from one of the riders.
The people in front rushed to get off the road and into doorways and side alleys. Talon pulled Aicelina and Guillaume out of the way as several horses trotted by. The foot of one of the riders almost kicked his shoulder. The man looked down and growled at him to make way.
Their eyes met. It was Marcel. He was accompanied by four men-at-arms and his sister. She had not noticed Talon but Marcel gave a start, then the group was by. They clattered over the bridge, and as they did so Marcel gave a backward glance at Talon. It was a baleful look that boded no good. Petrona had not noticed them.
Still, Talon felt that here in this crowded place with many of the town’s pike men in evidence if Marcel wanted to pick a quarrel it would not be a good place to do so.
They crossed over the river after paying the small coin required to use the bridge, but Aicelina noticed that Talon was tense and asked why.
“The people who went by just now were Marcel and his sister, Petrona. He has made it very clear that he does not like me.”
“Do you think we should go back?” she asked.
“No, I do not think he will do anything stupid while here,” Talon said with more conviction than he felt.
They had a pleasant surprise when they had crossed the bridge over the slow-moving river. Talon spied a stall with several monks standing nearby. He thought he recognized Claude. He looked again. It was Claude. He was with some of his fellow monks and it appeared they were selling honey and cakes.
Talon squeezed Aicelina’s hand. “I know these people; we should go up and say hello.”
Claude gave a great whoop when he spied Talon coming toward him. He embraced him and turned to his brothers. “Remember Talon of Persia, my Brothers?” he asked them.
They all nodded and smiled. There were introductions and curious looks at Aicelina. It had not gone unnoticed that she had been close to Talon when they came up. He introduced her as his cousin; that she was looking after Guillaume, who was his brother.
The monks were pleased to see Talon and made them all welcome. Claude even brought out a small leather beaker of wine that he offered them. Aicelina refused politely, but Talon took a sip and enjoyed it. Something told him, however, that he should be alert now that he had seen Marcel, so he gave it back with a compliment. It was good wine. They left the brothers with promises to visit. Talon wanted very much to ride out to the abbey again as he had enjoyed the calm atmosphere while there. Claude shouted after them to beware of pickpockets.
“They will even pick that of a poor monk,” he called after them.
Talon had spotted on the other side of the main arena a place where competitions would take place later in the day. He wanted to see this, but it depended upon how much time they might have left before they had to leave for home.
There were some men in chain mail lounging against the crudely marked-off arenas where swordsmanship and single combat duels for a prize would take place. The men looked rough and unkempt, mostly men-at-arms for hire, trying their luck for a small purse, he supposed.
They moved on to the area where the ground was laid out for jousting. Although he had heard of this relatively new sport, Talon was curious how it worked. Aicelina explained that men would fight for the honor of a Lady’s kerchief or some other emblem of love. Guillaume snorted and made a face in disgust, clearly annoying Aicelina but making Talon and Anwl grin.
They joined the noisy, cheerful crowd that
was beginning to assemble in some of the stands around the main arena.
As none of them had ever been to one of these events before they were completely in ignorance about what to expect. Guillaume was agog at everything.
They settled near the barricades to watch. There was a blast on a horn, inexpertly blown but enough to hush the crowd. A man dressed in some colorful cloth stalked out into the grassy space and began to announce the coming event. He spoke slowly and with much ceremony as he described the men who were to face one another in the arena. They were to fight with lances, on horseback. Then with the sword until one was struck off his horse. If he rose to fight after the fall then the battle would take place on foot until one asked for Paix or was downed by the other and forced to submit. The tournament went to the last man standing or the last men of that group standing.
The crowd enjoyed his flowery prose. Finally he finished with a flourish and left the field to raucous applause.
The men were fighting for a purse of some small silver money but that did not seem to matter. The two groups of eight walked their heavy horses forward from opposite corners of the arena toward the middle where they saluted the stands.
Some dignitaries were seated in a tiered stand and Talon supposed it to be the young Count of Carcassonne who would be the guest of honor. When he looked, indeed, he was in the center of the group of colorfully clad people. Talon’s sharp eye noticed that Marcel and his sister were seated some distance away from the center of the stands among other people. He hoped his small group was inconspicuous enough that Marcel would not notice it. He didn’t want the day spoiled.
The combatants shouted their names and hereditary history to the stands, then the two groups rode off to opposite ends of the arena where they turned and faced each other.
Knight Assassin Page 17