Samuel could tell that Mother was still in a bad mood after all his mischief. She had missed her women’s meeting and every time she looked over at him, she just sighed and shook her head.
Stable Waterford was much quieter than it had been yesterday. Market day was the only time when the village was really exciting. Other days, there was no one to see and nothing interesting to do. He almost wished he could be at home doing his chores.
‘I just have to talk to a few of the ladies, so you wait here,’ she told Samuel.
‘Can I go see Tom?’ he asked as she tethered Aaron by the trough.
‘Very well,’ she replied, much to Samuel’s surprise, ‘but we won’t be here very long, so don’t get into mischief. I’ll come and get you when it’s time to leave.’
Samuel gave a cheer and skipped down towards the basket store, trotting down the road and in through the front door. Tom was sitting beside his mother on a small, three-legged stool, helping her weave some small containers. Tom’s mother’s fingers moved so quickly, Samuel wondered how she did not make mistakes. Tom’s father had said it took years of practice to become so good at weaving things. Even Tom could make quite impressive things, given time.
Upon seeing Samuel, Tom smiled and looked expectantly towards his own mother.
‘Go on, then,’ she said, nodding towards the door, and the two boys were soon frolicking out into the street.
The village was virtually deserted compared to the previous day. A few carts and horses were tied before stores, but otherwise, they had the street to themselves.
‘You have to see something!’ Tom gasped.
‘What is it?’ Samuel asked, suddenly excited.
‘Follow me! I hope we’re not too late!’ Tom said and led the way towards Old Mr Keen’s Inn, where, curiously, a small commotion was in progress. ‘Look!’ Tom called as he pointed.
They both stopped dead in their tracks as they came before a strange-looking man sitting on a small rug before the front door. Some people had gathered and were waiting expectantly. The boys pushed to the front to observe.
The man sat cross-legged and wore a purple, pointed hat with a tiny bell at the top. His brown, bony chest lay bare and he wore great baggy, purple pants, with bells on his purple shoes. He had a chestnut tan, but most surprising to Samuel was that the man had a healthy shine like no other he had ever seen. It was so clear that Samuel felt he could almost touch it, like a curtain of sparkling water that surrounded the man. Most people had a normal shine, while the old people and the sickly people had a dull shine. This man must, indeed, be healthy to appear so bright.
‘Look at that!’ Samuel declared with awe.
‘I know,’ Tom agreed. ‘He’s amazing. Wait until you see what he does.’
Everybody gathered around. Suddenly, the man’s eyes popped open and he leapt to his feet. There was a gasp from the audience. Without a word, he somehow produced a shiny, red ball from the very air and held it out for all to inspect, raising one eyebrow as if to reinforce just how mysterious he was. The audience was gape-mouthed. Another flash of his hand and there were now two balls. He began to juggle them in one hand with his other hand tucked behind his back as he grinned mysteriously for all to see.
Now there were three balls leaping between his hands. He threw the balls behind his back and under his leg without a pause and even balanced one on his nose, smiling wildly and making exaggerated expressions all the while. A fourth ball, then a fifth appeared and they all formed a circle that seemed to rotate between the man’s hands all on their own. All at once, he pulled open a great pocket in his baggy, purple pants and the balls all dropped neatly inside and disappeared one after the other. The small crowd clapped their hands and called out their appreciation and wonderment, as did Samuel, but the man was not finished yet.
He produced a long, sharp knife and made a show of jumping around with it and cutting the air, shouting as he did and looking somewhat savage. The crowd took a step back, unsure, while Samuel and Tom both giggled. The man then produced an orange with a twirl of his wrist and, before Samuel could blink, he had thrown it up and sliced it in quarters. Then, motioning dramatically for silence, he dropped to one knee and, bending his head back, pushed the blade inside his mouth and down his throat. Gasps came up from all around. Withdrawing the blade again without so much as a squirt of blood, he bowed, to the cheers and congratulations of all. He held out his purple hat and revealed his thick, short, curly, black hair. Each person took their turn to drop in a coin or two. When they were done, Samuel and Tom stepped forward.
‘Well, now,’ the performer said, reaching down and touching Samuel lightly on the head with the palm of his hand. ‘Who do we have here? And who is your friend?’ he then asked, looking at Tom.
‘Are you a magician?’ Tom asked before Samuel could reply.
The man laughed and smiled mysteriously. ‘I am merely a humble vagabond-a traveller and student of the world and entertainer of curious children.’ He towered high above the two small boys and their mouths hung open as they crooked their heads back to look up at him.
‘Do you make a lot of money?’ Samuel asked as the tall, dark fellow began counting all the coins from his hat.
Again, the man laughed and now bent over to roll up his little rug. ‘Very little, actually, but just enough to make it worthwhile. Just be sure not to try my tricks,’ he told them with a warning finger and a stern eye. ‘I learned everything I know over many years. It takes much practice and doing anything with knives can be very dangerous, especially in little hands.’
‘What happened to your skin?’ Tom asked, scratching his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Why are you so brown?’
At this, the strange man squinted one eye shut and opened the other wide, eye-balling Tom closely, as if in fascination. ‘Why are you so pasty and pale?’
Samuel was a little worried by the remark, but Tom only giggled at the man’s exaggerated expression.
‘How do you throw those balls?’ Tom asked enthusiastically. ‘Can you teach us?’
‘Questions! Questions! Children are ever full of questions!’ the man complained, but it was all in jest. ‘Start with one ball and practise every day until you can do two, or three, or five or six or seven. All good things always begin very small. Now, I’m sorry, I must go, children! I’ve no chance to show you more tricks today. Be good for your mothers!’
With that, he turned and strode into the inn with his sparkling surrounds vanishing after him. Samuel was still standing in awe, when he heard Tom gulp. It was only a moment’s warning and Samuel had no time to move before a firm hand had snatched his ear and had it stinging with pain.
‘Samuel!’ his mother growled and began to drag him back up the street by his ear. ‘How many times have I told you not to go running off?’
The whole way home, she did not say a word. She was obviously very angry with him and so Samuel did not say anything in return. They both merely sat in silence as Aaron drew them home.
Samuel addressed the task of chopping wood with a certain lack of vigour. He had been chopping for some time and there was not much kindling to show for his efforts. Father and his brothers did it much better, so why couldn’t they come and do it? It wasn’t his fault Tom had convinced him to go and see the strange man. He raised the small hatchet once more and let it drop, its head stuck part-way into the thick branch.
Father came striding down from the orchards with a spade over one shoulder and he shook his head when he saw Samuel’s efforts.
‘You should listen to your mother,’ he said, squatting beside his son. The usual healthy shine around his back was strange. It looked different. ‘She only wants the best for you,’ Father continued, heedless of his son’s examinations.