laughing and greatly enjoying the treat. After the long winter in Sévignan, they were out of practice in walking the roads. Perrin and Huguet sat next to the carter on either side, playing on a flute and fiddle to keep him entertained on the journey. The jugglers and dancers huddled up together on the straw in the back of the cart improvising raucous and rude lyrics to the joglar s’ tunes. Lucatz rode well ahead but Esteve kept the pony alongside the cart.
Elinor was getting used to being Esteve the joglar . She had hardened to riding in a man’s saddle and had not found the change in her life too difficult. It helped that the weather was warm and the nights mild, since the troupe usually slept in the open. Their food was homely and without the refinements that Hugo had applied in the castle kitchen at Sévignan, but Elinor throve on it. Riding in the fresh air and performing at country fairs gave her an appetite much greater than her restricted life in the castle. And now that she was no longer afraid of being made to marry, her heart was light.
She missed Alys, of course, and her brother, but she was not lonely. Perrin and Huguet were as friendly as always and protective too, and the joglaresa s, though they kept up a stream of mockery, were not hostile. Lucatz was a bit remote and prickly but he nodded in approval at Esteve’s singing and playing. It was hard work, keeping up with the professional musicians but Elinor was thrilled to find that here was something she could do. She even managed a passable dance when surrounded by the rest of the troupe and her fine leg was commented on by many maidens in the villages they passed through.
Of Bertran, she heard nothing. Perrin went extremely vague when she tried to press him about the troubadour’s movements.
‘He was going east, that’s all I know,’ he said but he seemed uneasy and Elinor was sure he knew of some danger to Bertran that he was keeping from her.
As they approached the walls of Montpellier, Elinor looked up with interest. She had never been in such a great city and the furthest she had travelled away from her home before had been to the market in Béziers. Montpellier had a market too, much larger, and that was where Lucatz was heading.
It was like nothing Elinor had ever seen and Huguet had to nudge her knee to stop her looking like a gaping carp at all the sights.
‘Surely Esteve has seen a market before,’ he whispered. ‘They must have them in Albi.’
She tried to seem less impressed but it was difficult. The central square was filled with more stalls than she had ever seen before. It was Holy Saturday and the city was brimming over with visitors as well as the local population, come to spend their money and go to Mass in the cathedral for Easter Day. Lucatz told the carter to tie up at the edge of the market and look after the horses and signalled to his troupe to follow him on foot.
Montpellier was known as the ‘golden city’ of the Midi because of all its goldsmiths and there were stalls glittering and glinting in the sunshine with all kinds of chains and rings and seals. They sat alongside the wares of glassworkers, parchment-makers, haberdashers and dyers.
In the food part of the market smells of raw fish and eels and game made Elinor’s gorge rise but there were also stalls selling sweet spiced bread and tarts and chestnuts and roast mutton. She had never seen such a range of different kinds of food, not even at one of Hugo’s best feasts in the castle.
At the far end of the market was a raised platform, not much more than a cart frame on barrels instead of wheels, which Lucatz had his eye on. The troupe followed him slowly, threading their way through the many delights being offered on each side. Perrin bought spiced biscuits for the joglar s and Elinor thought the mixture of cinnamon, sugar and almonds was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
‘This is where we’ll perform on Monday,’ said Lucatz. ‘And I
Elinor was getting used to being Esteve the joglar . She had hardened to riding in a man’s saddle and had not found the change in her life too difficult. It helped that the weather was warm and the nights mild, since the troupe usually slept in the open. Their food was homely and without the refinements that Hugo had applied in the castle kitchen at Sévignan, but Elinor throve on it. Riding in the fresh air and performing at country fairs gave her an appetite much greater than her restricted life in the castle. And now that she was no longer afraid of being made to marry, her heart was light.
She missed Alys, of course, and her brother, but she was not lonely. Perrin and Huguet were as friendly as always and protective too, and the joglaresa s, though they kept up a stream of mockery, were not hostile. Lucatz was a bit remote and prickly but he nodded in approval at Esteve’s singing and playing. It was hard work, keeping up with the professional musicians but Elinor was thrilled to find that here was something she could do. She even managed a passable dance when surrounded by the rest of the troupe and her fine leg was commented on by many maidens in the villages they passed through.
Of Bertran, she heard nothing. Perrin went extremely vague when she tried to press him about the troubadour’s movements.
‘He was going east, that’s all I know,’ he said but he seemed uneasy and Elinor was sure he knew of some danger to Bertran that he was keeping from her.
As they approached the walls of Montpellier, Elinor looked up with interest. She had never been in such a great city and the furthest she had travelled away from her home before had been to the market in Béziers. Montpellier had a market too, much larger, and that was where Lucatz was heading.
It was like nothing Elinor had ever seen and Huguet had to nudge her knee to stop her looking like a gaping carp at all the sights.
‘Surely Esteve has seen a market before,’ he whispered. ‘They must have them in Albi.’
She tried to seem less impressed but it was difficult. The central square was filled with more stalls than she had ever seen before. It was Holy Saturday and the city was brimming over with visitors as well as the local population, come to spend their money and go to Mass in the cathedral for Easter Day. Lucatz told the carter to tie up at the edge of the market and look after the horses and signalled to his troupe to follow him on foot.
Montpellier was known as the ‘golden city’ of the Midi because of all its goldsmiths and there were stalls glittering and glinting in the sunshine with all kinds of chains and rings and seals. They sat alongside the wares of glassworkers, parchment-makers, haberdashers and dyers.
In the food part of the market smells of raw fish and eels and game made Elinor’s gorge rise but there were also stalls selling sweet spiced bread and tarts and chestnuts and roast mutton. She had never seen such a range of different kinds of food, not even at one of Hugo’s best feasts in the castle.
At the far end of the market was a raised platform, not much more than a cart frame on barrels instead of wheels, which Lucatz had his eye on. The troupe followed him slowly, threading their way through the many delights being offered on each side. Perrin bought spiced biscuits for the joglar s and Elinor thought the mixture of cinnamon, sugar and almonds was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
‘This is where we’ll perform on Monday,’ said Lucatz. ‘And I
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