It didn’t seem to bother him much at all.
The greybeard still seemed nervous when they rode out to join his carts as they came rumbling along the road, but he also seemed reassured not to see any armor, and only swords and daggers at the knights’ hips, so he forced a smile. “Well met, sir knights! I am Androv. We are proud to have you join us.”
“Well met, Master Androv.” Gar inclined his head politely. “I am Sir Gar Pike … this is Sir Dirk Dulaine … Coll … Dicea … and their mother, whom I believe you have already met.”
Androv smiled at Mama, and his nervousness fell away. “Yes, and an excellent companion she is, too.”
And an even more excellent cook, Coll thought. He knew Mama was the only reason the mountebanks were willing to travel with the knights at all—not that they had much choice.
Mama smiled warmly. “How good of you to say so, Androv! ”
“For the time being,” Gar said, “I think we would do best to drop our titles. I am simply ‘Gar’ to you, and my companion is ‘Dirk.’ ”
“You don’t want people to know that you’re knights, then?” Androv asked in surprise, then quickly shook his head. “No, of course, that’s no business of mine! Come along, sirs, and since there are more woods ahead of us that are infested with bandits, we’ll be very glad of the company of three armed men.” He glanced at Coll. “You are armed, aren’t you?”
Coll grinned and pointed to the first cart. “While you were talking, I hid it in there.”
Androv looked in surprise and saw the butt of the spear poking out from the side nearest them. He smiled slowly. “Your hand was quicker than my eye, Coll. Have you thought of taking up conjuring tricks?”
Gar and Dirk laughed, but Coll perked up. “Why not? I can use all the training I can get!”
“What professor wouldn’t give his chair for an attitude like that!” Gar sighed, earning looks of puzzlement from everybody.
“Why would a professor be so far from a university?” Androv asked—which put him ahead of Coll, who didn’t even know what a professor was.
“To find students like Coll,” Dirk replied.
Androv shrugged off the cryptic comment and got down to business. “You should know your companions by name.” He turned to gesture toward his fellow mountebanks, beginning with those who were perched precariously on the carts. “Constantine … Charles … Frederick … Ciare…”
Ciare nodded courteously enough toward Gar’s roughhewn countenance, but her gaze lingered on Coll’s face, becoming slumberous. He felt as though he were a field with seeds shooting out of the ground, and his smile seemed to glow in response to hers as he nodded.
Dicea frowned and asked, rather loudly, “Who is that handsome young man who drives the second cart, Master Androv?”
“Oh, that’s Enrico,” Androv said. The youth ducked his head, and came up with a long and caressing gaze for Dicea. She gave him a brittle smile in return—very brittle because Dirk didn’t even seem to have noticed; he only nodded gravely to Enrico, then at each of the other players in turn.
Coll felt a little angry in defense of his sister, and could almost have felt sorry for her—“almost” because she had turned to chatter brightly to Gar. Coll turned an inquiring glance toward Mama, but she only shrugged and shook her head.
So they journeyed on, the men taking turns walking and riding in the carts, the two knights riding alongside and, from their higher vantage point, chatting with the players who were perched on top of the loads. Coll was amazed at how quickly they managed to draw out the players, at how easily the players were chatting, as though with old friends.
They came to a town about midday—a collection of wattle-and-daub huts with a few half-timbered buildings, two of which actually had a second story. There was a church, too, built of stone and a little taller than any other building, with a steeple besides. Androv went around it, off to the second largest building.
Coll looked about him wide-eyed, and so did Mama and Dicea. “I have never seen so many houses!” Dicea breathed.
Ciare laughed, looking down at her from her seat on the cart. “You’ll see towns like this often enough, and many times bigger, too, if you stay with us long.”
Dicea’s face set in resentment at the reminder that she was a country bumpkin, but just then they passed the market, and her eyes widened again at the sight of so many booths, roofed with gaily colored cloth. She started toward them, but Mama caught her arm and pulled her back into line. “Later, darling—and after we’ve earned a few coppers, if we can.”
They went around the largest building, and Coll was surprised to see that it was hollow. They came in through plank gates between two tall wings into a wide courtyard. Cattle lowed in a pen against one wall, pigs in a pen against another. Chickens pecked for grain in the dust, around the wheels of several carts held in place by wheel chocks; the horses and donkeys were stabled under a thatched roof at the far side of the courtyard. Hostlers moved about among the animals, and a kitchen was sending forth odors of roast pork and fresh bread that made Coll’s mouth water.
A large man with an apron tied around his middle came up to them, his smile of greeting fading as he looked them over—but he kept his tone polite. “Good afternoon, travelers. What would you like?”
“A place to perform, landlord.” Androv doffed his cap with a flourish. “Have I the pleasure of addressing the proprietor of this establishment?”
“You have.” The landlord’s interest kindled as he looked over the smiling players and the gaily painted canvas folded over the wooden trunks in the first cart. “Are you play-actors?”
“That we are, sir, and with many a fine play to present! We have the doleful history of Pyramus and Thisbe for lovers, the battles of Henry the Fifth for those of martial spirits, and the confusions of the Imaginary Invalid for those who love to laugh! Will it please you to have us perform them in your yard?”
Dirk muttered to Gar, “Interesting to see what survived from the original colonists.” Gar nodded, and Coll wondered what they were talking about.
“That it will, that it will!” The landlord nodded and held out a hand. “I am Eotin. How much would you charge to let folk into the yard to see the play?”
“Only a shilling, sir.”
“That’s usual.” The landlord nodded judiciously. “We share it shilling for shilling?”
“Of every two, one for you and one for me,” Androv clarified, “with two meals a day, and rooms while we stay.” Eotin shook his head. “Rooms only for the leading players. The rest can sleep under the carts, as they do on the road.”
“Well, if it must be, it must,” Androv sighed, overdoing it. “Shall we perform this afternoon, landlord?”
Eotin looked startled. “Can you, so soon?”
Androv grinned, and several of the players laughed. “Give us bread and ale and a few hours’ time, and we shall have your play fitted. Where shall we set up our stage?”
“There, of course, opposite the gate.” The landlord pointed. “A few hours is scarcely time enough to spread the word and rent the courtyard rooms at the higher rate, but it should send rumor buzzing through the town to work harder than bees. Yes, by all means, a short play this afternoon!”
“We shall set to it,” Androv promised. “If you could send the bread and ale of which you spoke…”
“Yes, of course!” Eotin nodded and turned toward the kitchens.
Androv turned back to the drivers. “Bartholomew! Chester! Back the carts up where he showed you!”
A hostler appeared by Dirk’s stirrup. “Shall I stable your horse, player?”
“Huh? Oh, sure!” Dirk dismounted, yanked his saddlebags off, and let the hostler lead his horse away while he turned to help Mama down. Coll helped Dicea, to her annoyance, and stableboys led the ponies off. The two carts backed up tailgate to tailgate next to the inn wall. Androv held up a hand with a shout as the two bumped together. Other players set wedges under the wheels and drove them in tight with hammers, then climbed up and began to unload the carts, swinging the trunks down to other players on the ground. In minutes, the two carts were empty. Then the players on the carts pulled the sides, front, and tailgates out of the holes in the floor that held them and handed them down to the men on the ground, who passed timbers back up. The men on top fitted the timbers into the holes that had held the sides, fitted crosspieces between them, and started hanging curtains.