Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [23]
AS WE WENT on, Bear instructed Troth about our performances. “Now, Troth,” he said, “Crispin and I shall show you how we eke out pennies. We’re heading for a village. Let’s pray it’s small and remote. When we arrive, Crispin will play the recorder while I sing, dance a jig, and juggle. If the good people look kindly upon us, we might earn enough to buy some bread.”
I could see that, though Bear’s words made Troth nervous, she made no response other than to nod.
Bear went on: “Therefore, Troth, you must study and learn from us, for in good time you must do your part. We’ll have no sluggishness here. Have no fears. No harm will befall you. Just stay close to Crispin and me.”
After going for perhaps a few leagues, we came upon a narrow road, which appeared sparsely used. Wagon tracks were shallow and for our brief passage we saw no one on it. It suggested an isolated place—just what we desired.
We pressed on, passing over a bridge that crossed a frothy stream. There we drank our fill. We also paused long enough for Bear to search out some smooth stones, which, by the way he hefted them, I guessed would be for his juggling. Then on we continued until the village we’d been seeking appeared before us.
Bear handed me the recorder.
“There, you see?” he said, as I gave a few fluttering trills. “We’re as ripe and reedy as ever.”
“Are you?” I asked, doubting it.
“Crispin,” he said, “I think we have no choice.” He flexed his arms and hands until his knuckles cracked, smoothed his beard and took a deep breath.
Excited to reengage with our old life, I put the recorder to my lips and offered up a light and lilting air, an easy one to step. Bear slipped into it, like foot to boot, and began his dance.
To see Bear romp caused Troth’s eyes to open wide with delight, for—fever or no—Bear was stepping high and lively, now moving forward, heading for the town, hat bells a-jingle. Step for step I was with him with all my being, piping out my pithy tune.
Troth ran to keep up with us, calling, “Bear! Crispin! Wait for me!”
As God willed, it was a miserably poor village we’d come to. But then, the kingdom had no end to such impoverishment. Hardly bigger than Chaunton, it was far less than my Stromford. Otherwise, it was much the same and thus unworthy of description. No doubt it was smaller than its name, which no one ever bothered to divulge. Perhaps it had none.
As always, the children were the first to see us come. Where they came from one never knew, but come they did, running and tumbling like tail-shaking, squealing piglets at their play. No doubt we were as rare as furry eggs. They laughed and clapped their hands. Some made attempts to dance like Bear, skipping along, knees high, and hands clapping, as we came into what passed for the center of the village.
I think Bear loved these parades of tumbling, gleeful youth as he headed—in our normal fashion—for the church.
The village church proved fairly large and suggested that the community it served had once been larger, perhaps before the great sickness. I could see Troth eyeing the building with wonder. Remembering tiny Chaunton, no doubt it was the biggest structure she had ever seen. It allowed me to think that I had seen much of the world.
When we drew close to the church porch, Bear sank to his knees and removed his cap with a generous flourish, making the bells ring with merriment.
I stopped playing and knelt by his side, head bowed. Troth, imitating us, did the same, staying close to me. She was tense, with eyes for everything, while trying to shield her mouth with her hair. I reached out and tried to reassure her with a touch. She edged nearer.
As curious villagers gathered round we kept in place. It was not long before a priest arrived. He was an elderly, tonsured man, tall and thin, who looked—despite his advanced age—strong as an ox. Indeed, it appeared as if he had just come in from the fields, and had been working hard.
“My blessings on you, strangers,” called the priest, as he approached. “Do you wish words with me?”
Bear gave his usual response, with just