Will Sparrow's Road

  There was the skeleton of an infant sea monster, taken alive, it was said, from waters near Africa. All eyeless skull and sharp little teeth, tiny wings, and a lizard-like tail. A true sea monster? In sooth? Will was astounded. According to the label, the infant, with an evil temper but a sweet and melodious voice, died shortly after capture.

  Next to it was the skull of a unicorn. Although he had heard many stories of the creature, he had never yet seen one. It looked a bit like a one-horned goat, he concluded, before moving on to a giant radish from Wales, a two-headed lizard, a live three-legged chicken, and the head of a one-eyed pig in a glass vessel. Its eye appeared to follow Will as he walked about the booth, and he shivered.

  In a large, two-handled glass flask at the very end of the table floated a small creature, all bone but for a fishy tail and hair the color of sea grass that flowed and fluttered about. A baby mermaid, said the tag, captured off the coast of Ireland and now pickled like a cow-cumber in brine. Will shook his head in amazement. This truly was a wonder room—sea monsters and unicorns and mermaids. He had never thought to behold such things in his life.

  All agog, he proceeded to a small raised platform at the front of the booth. Someone sat there. As he approached, the person turned to look at him. Will froze. It was the monster, and it bellowed at the sight of him!

  Heart pounding, he ran from the booth and through the fair. He did not stop running until a stitch in his side forced him to the ground, where he lay panting in the grass near a cap maker's stall.

  It was truly a monster, and no dream at all, just as he had told the conjurer. What was it doing at the fair? Was he in danger? Or was—

  Suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of terrible squealing and snorting, and Will was overrun by a huge, hairy thing. Bodikins! The monster had followed him! He struggled to get up, but the thing, snuffling and grunting, held him to the ground. He pounded and punched at it.

  "Duchess! Leave it, Duchess! Sit, Duchess!” someone shouted loudly, and it must have been very loud, Will thought later, to be heard over the beast's snarling and his own angry cries.

  The beast ceased assaulting Will long enough for him to roll away and stand up, his back against the stall. It grunted at him again. And snorted. And oinked.

  Oinked?

  Will blinked. A pig. This beast was a pig, a big, longlegged, bristle-backed, ginger-haired, two-tusked pig with what Will would swear was a smile on its snout. "Whose pig is this? Call her off!” Will cried.

  A round, red-faced man puffed up to them, still crying, "Sit, Duchess, sit.”

  The pig, at last, sat.

  "Pah, boy, be not afeared of this impolite porker,” the man said, gasping from his run. "She was merely searching your clothing for aught to eat. 'Tis part of our act.”

  "If I had aught to eat, I would have eaten it,” said Will. He stood up straighter and added, "And I was ne'er afeared.”

  "Nay, certes not.” The man flopped down next to the pig and began to scratch her ears. "This is the duchess, the Porcine Duchess, the world's smartest pig. She plays games with cards, counts, and tells you the hour of the day, to the wonder of folk everywhere. And I am teaching her to speak French.” The man poked the pig in her bristly rear, whereupon the animal squeaked, "Whee, whee,” and the man laughed and hugged her tightly around her neck.

  Will looked blankly at the man and the pig.

  "Whee,” the man said. "Like oui, French, you know? 'Tis a jest.”

  Will shook his head.

  "No matter,” said the man with a great gust of ale-scented breath. He threw his arms around the pig's neck and began to croon, searching for the right notes, "In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid dwellin'...”

  Will frowned at the caterwauling and turned to leave.

  The tuneless singing stopped. "Nay, young sir, do not go,” said the man as he pulled at Will's breeches. "Come sit and speak with the Duchess. A fine specimen of porkhood she is, intelligent and noble. Why, one hour with the Duchess and you will come to prize pigs as I do. Trust me.”

  Trust him? Will trusted no one—not the mother who had left him, the father who had sold him, the innkeeper who had bought him. He did not trust the tooth puller or Nell Liftpurse, and he had been proved right. He did not trust Tobias of Froggenhall, although the man called him partner; Master Froggenhall was, after all, in the business of trickery. He was not going to trust this strange, ale-sodden man who preferred pigs to people.

  The man pulled apples from a pocket, one of which he tossed at the Duchess and another to Will.

  An apple? "What want you for this?” Will asked as he caught it.

  "Want? Nay, nothing. 'Tis for you.”

  Will examined the apple and the man. Could it be there was no trick behind this, no price to be paid? Such was not his experience, but the apple was firm and smelled tart and sweet, so while the Duchess crunched and snorted through her apple, Will finally bit into his. He nodded his thanks to the man, who winked.

  A pair of butterflies fluttered past Will's face and away. The Duchess rose to her feet and capered after the butterflies, her ears twitching and tail twirling.

  Will watched her for a moment and laughed, only a small bark of a laugh but it astonished him, for he could not remember when last he had laughed.

  SEVEN

  GOBSMACKED BY

  A PIG AND A MONSTER

  DAY TURNED into dark, and Will found shelter beneath a tree in the heart of the fair, where he slept the night away. He surprised himself by dreaming not of monsters but of butterflies and woke in the morning somewhat lighter in spirit and very hungry. The sky was bright, and birds tweeted enthusiastically. He found it hard to believe in monsters on such a day.

  A baker, putting out trays of warm bread, called "Good morrow” to the boy, who stumbled, putting a hand on the baker's stall to steady himself.

  "A pox on you, clumsy boy,” said the baker. "Have a care for my stall.”

  Will nodded his head in apology and hurried away, one loaf tucked carefully beneath his shirt. He strode off between the stalls, chewing and calling to those visitors come early, "Gentle folk, see spectacles of conjury that will amaze and astound you! At the old yew near the cheesemonger. At the stroke of high noon.” Now and then he looked over his shoulder for any monstrous entities or angry bakers but, seeing neither, continued on his way. "The marvelous and astonishing Tobias of Froggenhall will leave you gasping in wonderment. Noonday, at the old yew tree!”

  Noon found him at the yew with Master Froggenhall and a crowd of folk prepared to be astonished. Will aided the conjurer with his tricks and passed the hat at the end.

  He emptied the coins from his cap into the man's hand. The conjurer narrowed his eyes. Will reluctantly added several more coins. The conjurer raised one eyebrow, and another coin clinked into his hand. Satisfied at last that he was not being cheated, Master Froggenhall returned two pennies to Will, who now had four pence, having already knotted tuppence into the hem of his shirt.

  Will inspected the stalls, stopping now and then to pick thorns and thistles from his bare feet. Boots. He needed boots, or shoes, but, alas, his few pennies would not provide them. He did buy a small leather purse to tie to his breeches and keep safe his newly acquired riches. Then his thoughts turned to food.

  With pence in his purse, he decided not to risk nipping anything more. He sniffed a little and thought a lot and finally bought a currant cake, a hunk of strong yellow cheese, and the smallest mug of watery small beer. While he ate, he examined the toy stall: the drums, dolls and popguns, hobbyhorses and kites. He rued being too old for a childish hobbyhorse, for he might otherwise imagine himself a great warrior, riding his noble steed against the wicked Irish.

  He was still gawking when familiar oinking and grunting announced the man with the pig. The pig must have been bathed and powdered, Will thought, for she smelled like new grass and lavender. She whirled her tail when she saw him.

  "The Duchess be right
pleased to see you, young sir,” the man said, and the pig's tail went round and round.

  Will finished his feast, belched in contentment, and, curious, followed the man and the pig to the edge of the fair.

  "Good sirs and ladies,” the man called to a gathering crowd as he climbed up on a tree stump, "I be Samuel Knobby.” He touched his cap in salutation. "Knobby is my name, not my nature. For that I would be Samuel Plump. Or Samuel Lardy.” He laughed, and an ale-scented breeze stirred Will's hair. "Behold the Porcine Duchess, the world's smartest pig. She will awe, amaze, and astonish you. Come closer.”

  When enough folk had gathered, he climbed down and laid out a line of playing cards. Pointing to a girl with dark ringlets, he said, "You, little mistress, name a card.”

  The girl looked up at a nearby woman, who nodded permission. "The king of hearts,” the girl said.

  "Certes, the king of hearts!” repeated Samuel Knobby, and he turned to the Duchess. "Duchess, find the king of hearts for the wee damsel.” The pig walked back and forth along the row of cards. Samuel Knobby sneezed—ka-choo! The Duchess stopped and pawed at a card. Everyone craned to see it. The king of hearts! Will was astounded.

  Then, using the cards, the Duchess added numbers and successfully spelled out a merchant's name. She was rewarded with apple slices, which she ate greedily. Will allowed that the Duchess was right smart for a pig. Samuel, however, was likely coming down with an ague, for he sniffed and sneezed—ka-choo!—and coughed throughout the Duchess's exhibition.

  "Finally,” Samuel Knobby said to his awestruck audience, "the Duchess will perform a feat never before accomplished by a swine. Earlier I gave a penny to a young gentleman afore me here. The coin since has been passed from person to person until it has come to rest in someone's purse. I do not know which person or which purse, but the Duchess will find it.” He patted the pig's head and gave her tail a friendly tweak. "Now go, Duchess, find the coin.”

  Huffing and snorting, the Duchess pushed her way into the crowd. She trudged around and through, grunting and snuffling at people's clothing, until she stopped before a lad in a blue apprentice cap. She snorted once more and then began to nose at the purse at his waist. The boy, laughing, opened his purse and produced the coin.

  There were then a great many oohs and heigh-hos and huzzas. Samuel passed his cap around, and Will could hear the coins clinking into it.

  When the crowd had moved on to other delights, Will followed the man and the pig to a nearby ale seller. "Master Knobby, I am gobsmacked,” Will said. "I misdoubt the Duchess, no matter how smart for a pig, can truly read and spell and do sums. How did you make it seem so?”

  "I cannot reveal my secrets, boy,” Samuel said with a wink and a swallow from a brimming mug of ale, "but I will tell you that pigs have excellent hearing, and I do not have an ague.”

  Will nodded in understanding. "And how did she find the boy with the coin?”

  "Ere we began, I rubbed the coin with mint, and the Duchess smelled it. Pigs is remarkable creatures, and the Duchess is the most remarkable.” Samuel Knobby took another swallow. He saluted Will, called to the Duchess, and left.

  Will watched Samuel Knobby walk away, a little unsteadily, followed by the pig. They were in sooth a comical sight, attracting a group of boys who trailed behind them, oinking and snorting and pulling the pig's tail. The Duchess squealed in fright. "Go away! Avaunt, you fiends! Leave off assaulting my pig!” Samuel Knobby roared, lunging at them. He picked up stones and, swearing, threw them at the boys, who dodged and scattered, oinking even louder.

  Will stayed where he was, wary of putting himself in the way of being assaulted too. In sooth he cared for no one but himself and nothing but his belly, did he not? And perhaps boots. And currant cake. Still he was relieved when the boys left off abusing the pig and found a group of young women in ruffs and satins to annoy.

  The whole spectacle moved on, and Will started back toward the oddities booth. He had one penny and a great deal of curiosity, and he planned to spend them on discovering just who or what that monster was.

  The little man, his doublet ripped and cheek bruised, was again in front of the booth, cajoling fairgoers. "Come and see wonders of nature,” he called. "Dragons and sea serpents and monstrous vegetables. Come and see. A theater of marvels. Only a penny. One single penny.” The man did not, Will noted, mention the monster. Why not?

  The man saw Will and said, "How now, puny stripling? So you are come back. Do you wish to behold the somewhat tawdry wonders within? Only a penny.”

  "Ha'penny if I vow to look with but one eye?” asked Will with a grin.

  The little man frowned. "A penny, I said, and a penny it be. Now deliver a penny or be on your way.”

  Will flung the penny—his last—at the little man, who caught it and sneered, showing little brown teeth. "Go you in, then, if you bethink yourself braver than you were last time.”

  Will entered the booth. The sun was so bright overhead that it vanquished some of the nastiness and gloom within. While other folk were oohing and aahing over the oddities, Will looked at nothing but the platform where the monster sat.

  As he crept close, a shaft of sunshine illuminated its face. Out upon it! It was not the face of a monster he beheld, but that of a cat, a ginger-haired and sad-faced cat.

  The creature was entirely hairy on its face, except for its eyes and lips. It wore a dress, patched and faded, so Will guessed it was a she creature. She was nearly as tall as he, but he could not tell how young or old. A lettered sign on the platform announced she was the fearful Greymalkin, half wild cat and half human.

  Visitors giggled or shrieked or turned away in horror, but the creature merely sat there, eyes on her lap, while the three-legged chicken pecked at her shoes. One young fellow crept close enough to pull on her sleeve. "Boo!” she snapped at him, and folks laughed as he hurried away in fright.

  She turned her head toward Will. "You here again?” she asked him in a voice surprisingly sweet-sounding and soft. "Have you come to throw another mug? I still have the bump from our first meeting.”

  "You speak!” the astonished Will said.

  "Aye. I speak, and I shriek, and I eat little boys for my supper. I am a fierce and wild creature with sharp teeth and claws, so go, shoo, run away in fear,” she replied, but she said it with such sadness and self-mockery that Will did not think to be frightened.

  He went closer. The hair on her face was reddish, fine, and silky, and her eyes were green as grass. She was mayhap a little younger than he. Ten years, belike, to his twelve or more. "The sign says you are half wild cat,” he said to her. "Be that the truth?”

  "Faugh! I am no part cat. 'Tis but Master Tidball's invention.” She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. "Now that you have seen me and been horrified by my ugliness, you may leave. There lies your way,” she said, gesturing with her chin. "Go! Avaunt! Aroint!” She turned her face away. Will walked from one side of the booth to the other, gazing at the creature and watching onlookers respond with amusement or wonder or disgust.

  When he and the creature were alone in the booth, he said to her, "I believe it is a trick of some sort. You have hair pasted on your face.”

  The girl narrowed her green eyes. "Aye, in sooth 'tis a trick, God's trick, and I am the butt of the jest.” She stuck out her tongue.

  A monster would not do that, Will thought, nor a cat. He paced the booth again, looking and thinking, and then said, "A shape shifter. Belike you are a shape shifter, from human to cat and back again. Aye, a shape shifter.”

  "And you are a foolish boy,” she said.

  "Can you purr?” Will asked.

  "Go away,” she said, and she lifted the chicken to her lap.

  Will went.

  EIGHT

  IN WHICH WILL IS DISPLACED,

  RESTORED, AND ON THE ROAD AGAIN

  NOONTIME NEXT, the conjurer was not at the yew tree. Where was he? Will asked the cheesemonger and the pastry seller, the fire eater, a tumbler,
and a purveyor of gloves, pins, combs, and laces. No one had an answer.

  Will sat down and leaned against the tree, wondering what to do. His purse was empty again. The fair had ended. Folks were taking down stalls and packing up goods. Everywhere were horses and donkeys, wagons and carts and wheelbarrows, noise and dust. Where was the conjurer? Certes he had not gone away. The man had called Will partner. He would not leave a partner behind, would he?

  "Be you Will Sparrow?” a voice asked. Will looked up. "Froggenhall told me I would likely find you here.” The speaker was tall, bald of head, and broad of shoulder, with bulging eyes of clearest blue in a friendly, moon-round face. He had greasy bits stuck in his beard, and he leaned on a stout walking stick.

  "Master Tobias?” Will asked. "Where is he?”

  "Gone to London for Bartlemas Fair,” the stranger said. "Ere he went, he left you to me.”

  Left me? Will jumped to his feet. Was this the carter sent by the innkeeper? Or perhaps a merchant who trafficked in slaves for privateers? Just who the man was or what he wanted Will did not know, and he did not tarry to find out. Before another word was said, he was racing through the fair, on the run once again from those who would buy or sell or give him like a cabbage or a loaf of bread.

  Will dashed between stalls and behind trees to the far end of the fair, where, having outrun the stranger, he stopped to catch his breath. His heart hammered, his shoulders slumped, and his belly heaved. Will thought himself many years too old for tears, but still his eyes prickled. He frowned and kicked at the dusty ground. Gone? Master Tobias gone? Will had grown accustomed to the work and the pennies and being a partner. Now he was alone again. What was he to do?

  "You there!” someone shouted. "You, boy, in my second-best jerkin.”

  Will turned to look at the tall, red-haired youth. Jerkin? No doubt he was one of the young racers from the inn, the Devil take him!

  "Bailiff!” the young man cried, grabbing Will by the sleeve. "Bailiff! I have caught me a thief!”