Read Online Time's Echo by Pamela Hartshorne - Free Book Online

mistress has sent me to buy eggs, but she has a fondness for strawberries, and I hesitate when I see some.
The countrywoman sees me looking and immediately holds out a strawberry for me to try.
    ‘Fresh and very sweet, Mistress,’ she promises. Her fingers are stained red with the juice, and there are splatters like blood on her apron, but when she catches sight of Hap by my
side, she curls her lip back with a hiss and crosses herself.
    I am not going to buy her strawberries now. I am about to tell her how ignorant she is, when a furious shouting and snarling erupts over the cacophony of the market place and, not sorry to have
the excuse to leave her, I turn.
    ‘What is it?’ says Alice.
    ‘Let’s find out.’
    I take a step, but then hesitate. I have the same feeling I had when Alice startled me at the entrance to the market. It is almost as if I’m not properly here, as if I am looking at myself
from afar and there is a voice in my head shouting, ‘No!’
    I shake the feeling aside. Too much cheese when I broke my fast this morning. ‘Hap, stay close,’ I say, snapping my fingers.
    ‘You’re one as would push to see a hole in the calsey,’ my mistress always says, and adds darkly, ‘one of these days you’ll fall down it, if you’re not
careful.’
    But I’m not alone. A dense crowd has already gathered, and Alice and I have to hold our baskets in front of us as we squeeze our way through. Hap is pressed into my skirts. He
doesn’t like it when folk stand too close. There are too many opportunities for kicking, and I bend to pick him up. He’s a small dog, and it’s easy to tuck him under my arm.
    When we duck at last under the jostling arms, we find ourselves on the edge of a circle that has formed around two men. I see Miles Fell holding back his snarling mastiff, while Nicholas Ellis,
a tailor, is hopping up and down, one hand to his bloody leg and the other clenched into a furious fist.
    ‘You whoreson!’ Ellis is shouting. ‘You lumpish, Hell-hated knave! I will have you arrested, yes – and that toad-spotted dog of yours too. Do you know how much I paid for
this hose? I’ll see you whipped out of the city at the cart’s arse!’
    Opinion in the crowd is divided. Nobody likes Fell. He is a miller, and surly as they come, with dark, heavy features and slovenly habits. Mr Beckwith is always trying to get him to repair the
calsey at Castle Mills, but the road is as bad as ever, and all my master gets in return is a mouthful of abuse. That bitch of his is as bad-tempered as her master too. Even I cross to the other
side of the causeway to avoid walking past her.
    She is big even for a mastiff, and when she snarls she looks remarkably like her master. Her bite must have been painful, but Nick Ellis seems more concerned about his hose.
    ‘Peacock!’ my master snorts contemptuously whenever Ellis’s name is mentioned, but I think he is more like a cat, picking his way carefully along the street and shuddering at
dung heaps. He is always complaining about the blocked gutters that ooze onto the footway and spoil his shoes.
    Beside me, two apprentices are jeering, calling out insults and encouragement indiscriminately to both men. The miller has such a savage hold on his dog that she is like to choke, but he is
spewing curses back at Nicholas Ellis and doesn’t notice.
    ‘That dog should be muzzled,’ Nick shouts over him, trying to get the crowd on his side now. ‘The city passed an ordinance. You all know that. Where are the constables? Those
mangy louts are never around when you need them!’
    We have formed a big circle around them as if watching a show, but I’m losing interest. ‘I’m going,’ I say to Alice, but that’s when my gaze snags on the young man
across from me. He is so neat in comparison to his neighbours that I am surprised I haven’t noticed him before. He has glossy, chestnut-coloured hair, a tidy beard and eyes so intense that,
when they meet mine, my