Once they were away from the warehouses, plodding down a quiet road back towards the western quarter, Evan drew a deep breath and said. “Did you see how much he paid us? I’m going to thrash that overblown goat of a famer within an inch of his life when I get hold of him.”
He left them for a moment to deposit the bill of trade at a small banking house in the south quarter and emerged with a small purse, handing it to Martha
She opened it and pouted. “It’s only a few coppers, I thought you said we got paid a decent amount.”
Evan said. “And a decent amount is what stays with the banking house. That’s for you to buy the small things the village needs while I sort out what’s needed for repairs. I’ll meet you next to the East Square bakery around four bells.”
He handed Eleanor an empty shopping basket from the cart and left them, leading Bashful down a wide, noisy street before either girl could reply. Martha grumbled. “So I’m left to remember what’s needed and find these stupid places and what does he even mean by four bells?”
Eleanor stared at her. “It means the bell in the central tower strikes four times, it struck twice as your father went into the bank. Have you never been to town before?”
Martha flushed. “Not often, Ma doesn’t like it.”
She gestured around her and continued. “She’s right too, look at this place. Buildings shoved up against each other like they’re scared of letting anything between them, people scurrying about, heads down, mouths down, arms crossed, and the smell! How do you live with the stink?”
Eleanor felt for her own purse, still plump with coins from her life before, then guided Martha down a narrower street every bit as noisy as Evan’s one. “I think you stop smelling it after a while, and the streets where I used to live are a little cleaner.”
Martha looked unconvinced and unimpressed, but let Eleanor lead the way to the shops she used to frequent before her marriage.
Running through the list of oddments they were tasked with buying, Eleanor didn’t notice the foppish figure stepping into her path until they collided.
She looked up to apologise and found Fabian Taylor smirking down at her. “Well, if it isn’t the high and mighty Miss Marchant. Tell me, how is it being married to a beggar?”
Eleanor frowned and stepped back, Fabian followed, still smirking. “You’re sorry you turned me down now, aren’t you. Sorry you were so rude. I think you need to apologise.”
She stepped back again, he stepped forward. “Come on now, Eleanor, say sorry. Say sorry you said I smelt, and that you turned me down, and that you’d rather be married to me than your tatty pauper.”
Eleanor shoved him in the chest. “You still smell, and my husband is worth fifty of you.”
Fabian stumbled back, then yelled. “Get away from me, wench! I don’t want what you’re offering, I don’t care how cheap.”
Eleanor’s jaw dropped. “Are you delirious? I wouldn’t touch you for all the gold in Carra.”
Fabian flushed, and looked around, they were attracting a crowd. He raised his fist. “This wench is trying to rob me.”
The people around them shifted and murmured, glaring suspiciously at Eleanor and Martha.
Martha snorted. “And this is town manners? Assaulting a woman trying to get on with her shopping, then screaming and crying and making up stories when she says no to your disgusting demands?”
She glared around the group. “Well? Have any of you anything to say?”
The crowd shuffled and shifted, now glancing uncertainly at Fabian, who scowled. She grabbed Eleanor’s arm and pulled her away, tossing over her shoulder. “And she’s right, you stink.”
Fabian lunged after her, Martha screamed. “Thief,” and kicked out, laying the taller, larger man out on the cobblestones.
The crowd gasped as Martha kept screaming. “He tried to grab me, he tried to take my purse, he’s evil, get him away from me.”
The people surrounding them vanished and Martha closed her mouth, smirking at Eleanor’s slack jaw. “The Castle Commander doesn’t like uppity town folk. He makes sure all the villagers know how to deal with that kind of cockatrice before we’re sent to town.”
Eleanor drew in a breath. “I think I need to meet the Castle Commander.”
They continued on, making their way to an apothecary and spice merchant to gather ingredients for Sarah’s potions, Maggie’s dyes and various other requirements. They stepped inside to be greeted by cool looks and a sneer from one customer in particular.
Mrs Fisher stood by the counter, looking down her nose at Eleanor. “It seems married life hasn’t improved your conduct. Although it’s hardly surprising given what you married.”
Eleanor drew herself upright. “My husband is more of a gentleman than that jellyfish outside will ever be.”
The shopkeeper’s gaze was cold. “Master Taylor’s son is a decent young man who should be treated with respect and courtesy by those beneath him.”
Eleanor laughed. “You’ll be hard pressed to find people lower than that lazy, unlettered, ingrate.”
Mrs Fisher sniffed. “He is the son of a town merchant and well-regarded, he is most definitely above a couple of scruffy little vagabonds trying to find things to steal.”
The shopkeeper arranged her features into an expression of shock. “They’re thieves? Get them out of my shop immediately, I won’t have people like that in here, making off with my stock and ruining my reputation.”
She flapped her hands at them. “Go, shoo, get out!”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes at the woman, then at Mrs Fisher’s smugly pleased face. “My father always said ‘if their money’s the same, their treatment’s the same’. We had money to spend here, Mistress, but we’ll go elsewhere, and happily. I know who my father sells to.”
Mrs Fisher’s smile dropped, and she hissed. “He ain’t your father any more, girl, so you just slink out of here like the beggar you are, and in future, remember your place.”
Martha looked her up and down. “Who’s that sour-faced old crone?”
Eleanor linked their arms together and turned for the door. “That is my mother’s housekeeper. She likes to think she’s important. Dishonest people are nice to her, so they can cheat her out of more of my father’s money.”
They closed the door on outrage and spluttering and walked away. Martha pulled her arm free and snapped. “And that went well. We’ve wasted a full bell chime on your former friends and still have most of the list to get. Do you have any idea where we’re going to buy them now?”
Eleanor took several deep breaths, she could not dwell on that horrible woman’s words, or the change in the previously charming, helpful shopkeeper. “Most of the stock in that place came through my father’s docks. There are other places that buy from him, they’re just not places I’ve shopped before.”
Martha said. “I’ll settle for any place that doesn’t know you.”
Eleanor swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping Martha would think she was holding back a retort, and glanced around before making for a smaller, darker side street.
Several wrong turns and backtracks later, Martha was rolling her eyes and Eleanor was trying not to scream. Finally, the shop sign she’d been looking for appeared. The name had appeared often on her father’s lists, and Master Shipwill had spoken of the owner with respect.
