Keturah and Lord Death

The morning began with a boulder pull. Everyone predicted that it would be Simon Langley or Barnaby Buttercross who would pull the boulder the farthest. Hadn’t they won, one of them, every year for seven years? But weren’t we all surprised when Stephen Little won the day. He lived in the rockiest part of the parish and had become good at taking rocks out of his poor soil. Lord Temsland was so pleased at the turn of events that he promised Stephen the right to clear another half-acre of forestland that bordered his portion.

When the boulder pull was ended, everyone went to see the booths of vegetables and goods. There were cabbages and rhubarb, corn, leeks and cucumbers, beans and garlic, and white meats of milk and cheeses. There were gooseberries and rye and wheat breads, baked and warm, golden butters in fancy molds, and bunches of picked flowers tied with ribbon. Martha Hornsby sold her famous jams and syrups, and Lord Temsland gave her a great gold coin for one bottle. This made her cry, for all her life she had longed to have a real gold coin to bite of an evening.

A number of youths entered the eating contest, and a great crowd gathered round and bet on who would be able to eat the most currant buns. Jeremy Smith ate until he was sick. Richard Walters had to stop at twenty, and then spent the better part of an hour lying on the village lawn, moaning. Michael Red ate thirty-three buns and stopped, saying that it was a lucky number and that it was the first time in his life he had been full. Michael’s wife was very proud of him and wove his first-place blue ribbon into her hair.

The young lads were stoic when they all lost in archery to Barty Lumberjon. They knew he wouldn’t let them forget his victory until next year’s fair, but freedom from enforced humility came when Adam Wiltweather beat Barty in the arm-wrestling competition. Adam was a quiet lad who would let others win at times and declare he had done his best.

I walked Grandmother around the booths. We touched woolens and silks, tasted strange foods, smelled exotic spices. We saw a man juggle fiery torches, then raw eggs. Grandmother clapped with happiness to see a man who could tie himself into a knot. The villagers proudly showed their calves and bulls and their lambs and ewes and their turkeys and roosters and hogs. Children showed their prize rabbits and donkeys. Grandmother and I laughed and clapped, and I marveled to think it possible that I might be lady over all my people.

Then came the judging of fruits and vegetables. Ben Marshall won, of course, for melons and pumpkins and cabbages and turnips and leeks. The other fruit and vegetable ribbons were shared, one per person, and there was some debate over whether the winners’ produce was truly better than Ben Marshall’s. Biddy Sodwell’s strawberries were bigger, but weren’t Ben’s sweeter? Sam Baxter’s lettuces were larger, but weren’t Ben’s greener and crisper? Still, Ben was happy, and announced over raised mugs that he would marry Best Cook that very night while still in the glow of his triumph.

Soor Lily’s great baby son won the wrestling contest and gave the ribbon to his mother. Soor Lily herself did not enter any contest but sold many bottles of her “tonic,” which cured everything from warts to melancholy. A man who had several warts on his nose drank an entire bottle, and within minutes every wart fell off. He was so happy he proposed to Soor Lily, and was immediately chased out of town by three of her sons.

Goody Thompson won a contest by guessing the correct number of beans in a jar and got a beautiful new teapot for her prize. She carried her baby as she walked about the fair; his cheeks were growing fat and rosy.

Gretta won a blue ribbon for some exquisite embroidery, but it was well known that her most important contribution was being worn by Lady Temsland, who was every bit as gorgeously arrayed as the queen.

There was one surprise in the textiles category. Master Tailor displayed a beautiful gown of lavender silk and won hands down, of course. As soon as he had been presented the ribbon, he gave the gown to Gretta. “‘Tis a wedding gown,” he said. “And if I have any eye at all, it will fit you perfectly.”

She held it up in a rapture, then looked at him sternly. “You must promise never to boss me.”

Tailor smiled. “And if I tried?”

“Why, I would love you anyway,” she said, smiling.

They embraced, and we all clapped to see it, none more loudly than Tailor’s children.

Choirmaster’s choir sang for the king and queen while they ate a dinner that sampled all the finest foods of the fair, including Cook’s blue-ribbon loaves. The great lords who had accompanied the king now were friendly to Lord Temsland and cold to Duke Morland, who sat alone and glum, apart from the others. Apparently they had decided it was the duke who had exaggerated.