Will Sparrow's Road (16 page)

The man removed his cap and scratched his bald head. "Perhaps you, Sparrow,” he said finally, "when we reach Stourbridge, could do something clever. Mayhap you can tumble? Twist your body into unnatural shapes? Walk on your hands? Eat fire or swallow swords? Make eggs disappear or coins appear?”

Will shook his head no and no and no.

"Bah,” said Tidball. He narrowed his eyes and examined the boy as if by close scrutiny he might yet determine some talent or deformity hitherto unknown even to Will himself.

Master Tidball unlocked the wagon and let Grace out. "Before we go to Stourbridge, we must add to our little band of oddities. You, wild girl, take these eggs and shake them, hard, like this.”

Grace took the basket he handed her. She looked at him and furrowed her brow. "Their insides become confused,” Master Tidball explained, "and with luck the chickens that emerge will be odd-looking indeed. Fine additions to my collection.” He shook one of the eggs violently. Grace took one and softly turned it over and back.

"Nay, stupid girl, shake it hard, like this.” Master Tidball took the egg from her and gave it a ferocious shake. He grinned at Grace's look of disgust and dismay.

As Tidball turned away, Grace winked at Will. She cradled two of the eggs and murmured, "Grow, little chicks, into fine fat fowl with sensible insides.”

"Sparrow, give extra food to the chicken,” Tidball went on, "to plump her up. Then join Fitzgeoffrey, who will be seeing to the oddities inside. Some are looking a bit tattered and untidy. We cannot allow that at Stourbridge fair. They must be extraordinary, worth a penny to see.”

After the chicken was fed, Will joined Fitz in the booth. "How,” Will asked him, "did Master Tidball come by these treasures?”

Fitz snorted. "Treasures? What treasures?”

Will gestured toward the unicorn skull. "Such as this.”

Fitz snorted again. "The knave fastened a horn onto a goat skull. And look closely at the bits and pieces of fish and bird bones that he calls a sea monster. Treasures, indeed. The man is a rogue and a craven counterfeit.”

Will looked closer at the unicorn skull. Was it in truth a goat and no unicorn at all? His mind reeled. Master Tidball passing off a goat as a unicorn and Grace Wyse as both wild girl and wild cat? Even Will had never thought to tell lies as big as that.

"I cannot find the mermaid,” Fitz called to Tidball, and suddenly Will remembered the deeds of last night. His face grew clammy and his hands trembled.

"Fitzgeoffrey, you beef-witted toad,” Tidball roared as he came into the booth, "you are useless as a hat full of holes. I would send you away this minute if it did not amuse me to abuse you.”

Fitz glowered and his ears glowed red, but he looked again through the booth. Will felt a fluttering in his belly. He feared what was coming and, to forestall it, joined the fruitless search.

"Why are you not helping, wild cat?” Tidball asked Grace, who had come in and was standing silently to the side. "Know you something?”

She looked down at her feet.

"Tell me!”

She said nothing.

"Since you will not speak, I shall lay a punishment upon this wretch—the worthless Lancelot Fitzgeoffrey—for I put him in charge of my marvels. 'Tis his fault she is missing, and he shall be thrashed for it.” He grasped Fitz's arm and pulled him close.

"Nay,” Grace whispered. "You cannot punish Fitz for this.”

"Say not
cannot
to me! I can do whatever I like, thrash whomever I choose!” Tidball twisted Fitz's arm, and the little man yelped.

”But 'twas my doing. My idea and my plan,” Grace said.

Tidball loosed Fitz and swung to face Grace. "What have you done? Where is she?”

"She is gone. I knew she did not like being in a bottle. She was in part a person, after all. So I dug a hole and buried her, as was right and—”

"You simpleton!” Tidball swung his stick against a turtle shell, and the sound reverberated in the booth. "She was no part person, but made of cat skull and fish tail, sea grass and pretense. I can easily construct another.” He peered at her. Will could see him thinking. "How, pray, did you take her? Are you sure 'twas you? You were locked in the wagon. And the flask was too heavy for one to carry.”

Master Tidball turned and loomed over Will. "You, Sparrow, was it you?” he growled. "Did you steal my mermaid? I shall have the watch on you, and you shall rot in prison until your nose falls off your face.”

Will opened his mouth—to say what, he did not know—but Grace shook her head. "No,” she whispered to him. "No.” So he said nothing.

Master Tidball grabbed Grace by the arm. "You, then,” he said to her as he pulled her from the booth and pushed her into the wagon. "Ungrateful brat.” Will heard a thud and a cry, and then another. "I will think of a suitable punishment for you, you ugly, unnatural creature, and you shall stay locked in here until I do!” Tidball burst from the wagon, slipped the bar across the door, and stormed off, brandishing his walking stick like a cudgel.

Fitz moved to stop him. "Stay back, Fitzgeoffrey,” Tidball shouted as he stalked away, "lest I grind you into the mud.”

Will pounded the wagon until his fist throbbed with pain. What an addlehead he was! All these weeks he had chosen to believe that the ugly, misshapen Fitz was a villain and that Tidball's guileless blue eyes and easy laugh betokened a good and generous nature. He pounded the wagon again. But that was not the way of it. Fitz had told the truth. Tidball was the villain, the greedy one, the thief, the liar, the brute. As Fitz climbed into the wagon to see to Grace, Will shook his head.
Certes, things are not what they seem.

HOW WILL HATCHES AN ENTERTAINMENT,
DELIVERANCE, AND TROUBLE

I
T WAS
the last day of the fair. Grace stayed locked in the wagon. While Fitz collected pennies at the booth, Will called people to come to the wonder room one last time. Still furious—at Tidball and at himself—he spent his anger in mocking Tidball, mimicking his limp and his clumsy dancing, swinging a make-believe cudgel, and shouting, "Lancelot, you gargoyle, you insect, you beef-witted toad!” He found that fairgoers appreciated the foolishness and followed him, laughing, to the oddities booth.

When evening came, Fitz was not to be found. Master Tidball told Will, "We leave for Stourbridge at dawn tomorrow. I have important business in town and will not return until morning. You and that trustless troll have us packed and ready to go.” Master Tidball looked at the wagon. "And do not free the wild girl, nor feed her, for she continues to defy me. Let her feel the pangs of hunger, the ugly, ungrateful wretch.” He left, twirling his walking stick and humming.

Now that he knew what he knew of the odious Tidball, should Will quit him? he wondered. Go from here, even without his wages? But to leave Grace and Fitz behind ... What could be done? What would deliver all three of them?

Despite, or mayhap because of, Tidball's harsh commands, Will let Grace out of the wagon. "You must ne'er tell Master Tidball about your part in burying the mermaid baby,” she told Will. "Aye, he will punish me, but if he learns of your part in the burial, he will beat you most severely and turn you out. Promise me you will not tell him. Promise.”

Will nodded.

Grace helped Will pack up the oddities, ready for stowing in the wagon at first light. He built a fire, and they drew near it for warmth. Lights from the fires of other fair workers twinkled, and there was music and the smell of food cooking.

Fitz returned anon, one eye blackened, but he must have gotten the best of his opponent, for he dropped an armload of onions, bread, and wedges of crumbly yellow cheese into Grace's lap. "Eat, my children,” he said, and he fell to the ground with an
ooof.

“Salvete,
" said a voice. "Greetings, my friends.”

"Benjamin! At last! Sit, sit!” said Fitz.

Benjamin sat. "I have decided to travel with you as far as Stourbridge. And then?
Ignoro,
I do not know, but I will juggle what comes.”

"Have you yet been to Stourbridge fair, Master Juggler?” asked Grace, her mouth full of bread.

"Aye, 'tis most glorious—a feast of revelry and merriment, music and laughter, sumptuous smells and tastes, and crowds not miserly with their coins. I am certain you will find it colorful and altogether splendid to see.”

"I fear all I shall see is the inside of the wagon,” Grace said. "Master Tidball is becoming ever more insistent that I play the wild girl, and I cannot. I will not.” She shuddered.

Benjamin gestured helplessly. "My lovely Grace, I wish we could rescue you from your captor as Saint George rescued the princess from the dragon.”

"My dragon walks on two feet and swings a mighty cudgel.”

"Indeed,” said Benjamin.

Will leaned forward. "Imagine this: if we were to depart from here while Tidball is in town? Hitch Solomon to the wagon and go—to Stourbridge or elsewhere—and Tidball would come back to find no one and nothing.” Will snickered at the thought.

"Aye,” said Fitz, his chuckles growing to gusts of laughter. "He would strut about, swinging his stick, shouting 'Paltry moldwarp' and 'Puny minnow' and 'Ugly creature' all he wished, and we would not be here to hear him. 'Twould be most satisfactory, would it not?”

"Aye,” they all agreed. "Most satisfactory.”

Grace passed a wedge of cheese to Benjamin, who cut a slice for himself and passed his knife to Will.

"Cut some of that onion for me, stripling,” said Fitz.

Will stabbed the blade into the onion and held it up before him. "Nay, nay, eat me not,” he said, bobbing it around, "for I am Master Tidball!”

"Aye!” said Fitz. "'Tis Baldhead to the life!”

Will grinned. He held the knife and the onion aloft. "Yea, in sooth I am the evil-hearted Thomas Tidball, bald of head and bitter of heart, sly-minded knave and insolent villain, teller of lies, torturer of innocent maidens, and creator of false oddities.”

Will nodded to the puppet. "Master Tidball, I did it, I, Will Sparrow. I helped Grace bury your false baby mermaid, and I wished 'twere you beneath the ground.” He lowered his voice and spoke as Tidball: "Oh crows and daws! Plagues and madness! A burning Devil take you, you puny, peevish schoolboy! Begone from me! Avaunt! Aroint! Before I flame in rage, set you afire, and sup on your roasted ribs!”

Laughter overtook them.

Said Benjamin, "This paltry juggler cannot observe the Tidball poppet but can recognize him by his unpleasant nature, which even a blind man can see.” He threw a crumb of cheese toward the puppet.

"Had we a pea or a walnut,” said Fitz, "we could make a Fitz puppet to battle the evil Tidball.”

Waggling the onion-headed puppet toward Fitz, Will shouted, "Lancelot Fitzgeoffrey, you drunken brawler! Weak and writhled shrimp! Lord of the minnows! I will crush you and use your bones to powder my bottom!”

Fitz added in a Tidball voice, "Now, come and do all the work, buy all the food, and take no wages.”

"And stop being kind to the wild girl,” Grace put in.

"You must do as I say, lest I grind you into the dirt,” said Will, brandishing make-believe Tidball. "And I say polish my boots with your tongue, fetch me a barrel of ale, and sing for me, you tiny, tuneless drone. Lancelot Fitzgeoffrey, give us a song!”

Fitz began a popular tune that Will knew well:

We be soldiers three—
Pardona moy je vous en pree—
Lately come forth of the low country
With never a penny of money.

Benjamin pulled his flute from his bag and tootled along as Grace and Will joined Fitz to sing the verse again. At the rare sounds of music and laughter from the oddities, a few folks from neighboring fires began to gather.

"Now,” cried Will, "Tidball must sing.” The onion puppet bowed to left and right, cleared its throat, and sang:

Thomas Tidball is who I be—
Pardona moy je vous en pree—
Master of these persons three
With never a penny of money.

"Aye,” shouted the gorbellied purveyor of pies, puddings, and pancakes, standing near the fire, "'tis him indeed, the varlet. He borrowed three shillings from me and now pretends not to know me.”

"He owes me a shilling still from a bout of knucklebones at the inn,” said the metalsmith.

"And me, who bested him at primero!” called another voice.

So that was where their wages went, Will thought. Tidball had gambled them away. And much more, it seemed.

The Tidball puppet grumbled, "Hush, knaves. There is more to my song:

Tidball is who I be.

Come work for me or play with me.

But you'll get more coins from yonder tree,

For I've never a penny of money.

His listeners laughed and cheered. Some of them, brimming with ale and celebrating the end of the fair, threw pennies. Pennies! Will scooped them up and said to Fitz, "Know you what these are? Deliverance.”

"You be taking those pennies and leaving us?” said Fitz.

"Nay,” said Will. "Not my deliverance. Grace's. And yours.”

Fitz clapped Will's shoulder but said, "Even if Tidball wished to sell her, those pennies are not enough.”

"Added to what you win by wrestling?”

"We need to eat.”

"Fitz, listen well to me. We will eat less. We will make a puppet play to share with visitors to the Stourbridge fair and keep the pennies we collect. Tidball need not know.”

Will dribbled the coins into Fitz's hands, but Fitz shook his head uncertainly.

Someone pulled on Will's sleeve. "I have a puppet, too,” said Grace. She held aloft an apple impaled on a stick. "'Tis me,” she said. "An apple-cheeked maiden at last. Make Tidball talk to me.”

And the Tidball puppet growled, "You, wild girl, you ungrateful wench, do something fierce!”

Sheltered by her cloak, Grace held the apple puppet up. "Fierce, aye. Fiercely will I punish you for your evil ways, you terrible Tidball.” Her thumb and first finger held a twig, with which she began to beat the Tidball puppet. "A whack for your greed!” she cried. "A whack for your selfishness! A whack for your cruelty!” The Tidball puppet whimpered and fled, and the Grace puppet bowed in triumph.