Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3) Read Online Free Page B

my weight on his back.
    I stretched out and shut my eyes. Dandy was away to the fair to see what work she and Zima might do. Da was touting for a customer for his old hunter. Zima was clattering pots in the caravan, and her baby was crying with little hope of being attended. I was as solitary as I was ever able to be. I sighed and listened to a lark singing up in the sky above me, and the cropping sound of the pony grazing close to my head.
    ‘Hey! Littl’un!’ It was a low call from the man on the step of the caravan. I sat up cautiously and shaded my eyes to see him. It was a fine wagon, much bigger than ours and brightly painted.Down the side in swirly red and gold letters it said words I could not read; with a great swirly ‘E’ which I guessed signified horses for there was a wonderful painted horse rearing up before a lady dressed as fine as a queen twirling a whip under its hooves.
    The man’s shirt was white, nearly clean. His face was shaved and plump. He was smiling at me, friendly. I was instantly suspicious.
    ‘That’s thirsty work,’ he said kindly. ‘Would you like a mug of small beer?’
    ‘What for?’ I asked.
    ‘You’re working well, I enjoyed watching you,’ he said. He got to his feet and went inside his wagon, his fair head brushing the top of the doorway. He came out with two small pewter mugs of ale, and stepped down carefully from the step, his eyes on the mugs. He came towards me with one outstretched. I got to my feet and eyed him, but I did not put out my hand for the drink though I was parched and longing for the taste of the cool beer on my tongue and throat.
    ‘What d’you want?’ I asked, my eyes on the mug.
    ‘Maybe I want to buy the horse,’ he said. ‘Go on, take it. I won’t bite.’
    That brought my eyes to his face. ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ I said defiantly. I looked down longingly at the drink again. ‘I’ve no money to buy it,’ I said.
    ‘It’s for free!’ he said impatiently. ‘Take it, you silly wench.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said gruffly and took it from his hand. The liquid was malty on my tongue and went down my throat in a delicious cool stream. I gulped three times and then paused, to make it last the longer.
    ‘Are you in the horse business?’ he asked.
    ‘You’d best ask my da,’ I said.
    He smiled at my caution and sat down on the grass at my feet. After a little hesitation, I sat too.
    ‘That’s my wagon,’ he said pointing to the caravan. ‘See that on the side? Robert Gower? That’s me. Robert Gower’s Amazing Equestrian Show! That’s me and my business. All sorts I do.Dancing ponies, fortune-telling ponies, acrobatic horses, trick-riding, cavalry charges. And the story of Richard the Lionheart and Saladin, in costume, and with two stallions.’
    I gaped at him. ‘How many horses have you got?’ I asked.
    ‘Five,’ he said. ‘And the stallion.’
    ‘I thought you said two stallions,’ I queried.
    ‘It looks like two,’ he said, unabashed. ‘Richard the Lionheart rides the grey stallion. Then we black him up and he is Saladin’s mighty ebony steed. I black-up too, to be Saladin. So what?’
    ‘Nothing!’ I said hastily. ‘Are these your horses?’
    ‘Aye,’ he said gesturing at the ponies I had noticed earlier. ‘These four ponies, and the skewbald which pulls the wagon and works as a rosinback. My boy’s riding the stallion around the town, crying-up the show. We’re giving a show in the next-door field. Two performances at three and seven. Today and Every Day. By Public Demand. For the Duration.’
    I said nothing. Many of the words I did not understand. But I recognized the ring of the showground barker.
    ‘You like horses,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘My da buys them, or trades them. We both train them. We often sell children’s ponies. So I trains them.’
    ‘When will this one be ready?’ Robert Gower nodded to the grey pony.
    ‘Da wants to sell him this week,’ I said. ‘He’ll be half-broke