The Town House by Norah Lofts Read Free Book Online

and pay as we go in. They chose that gate because it’s nearest the Abbey – not so far to carry the bag!’
    A monk – the first of his kind that I had ever seen – stood in the archway, accompanied by two ordinary men. As each market-goer drew level with the monk he looked over the produce he carried and without a moment’s hesitation decided whether the dues should be paid in cash or kind. He touched nothing: if cash were demanded one of the laymen received it. If the dues were in kind the other took it. It was all done swiftly and in order and in a singular silence. There was no haggling; the dues were paid in sullen silence and no-one said much until out of ear-shot of the monk. At a safe distance grumbling began. I later learned that there was a kind of justice about the dues, ruled by the law of supply and demand. The monk might take, for example, a fowl from one woman and a pound of apples from another, unfair on the face of it; but inside the market that day fowls were plentiful and cheap, apples scarce and dear. From the basket that I had mended he demanded a score of herrings. Once out of earshot, our friend said sourly,
    ‘There’s robbers in all shapes, but them in cowls is the worst. They say that some of their takings come back again as alms and such, but I never took charity yet and never want to.’
    The market place was a great open square immediately in front of the Abbey’s main gateway. Here on the cobbles some people took up a stand and began to cry their wares as a means of drawing attention; others moved to and fro amongst the townswomen who had come out to do their marketing. I saw several females of a kind new to me, well dressed, with rings on their fingers and elegant head-gear, followed by maid- or men-servants, carrying baskets. In my simple way I took them for great ladies, never having seen one, for if my Lord Bowdegrave had a wife he never brought her to Rede. It was a surprise to me to learn that all this grandeur appertained to the wives of burghers who had been successful in their various businesses, and an even greater surprise to know that these grave-faced, sedate women were, in many cases, breaking the law by dressing themselves so fine. In the towns ordinary folk had become so rich that they could afford to ape the nobility, and laws were passed saying at what rank one might wear velvet, satin or the better kinds of fur. The laws were not heeded. In fact that was one of the first things I noticed about life in the town, the ordinary people were far less humble and conscious of their state than even the freemen on the country manors.
    There was no other herring seller in Baildon that morning so Old Betsy – as I heard her called – soon emptied her baskets. One man even made an offer for the donkey foal, to which she replied shortly that she’d think about selling it when the creature was weaned. Then she said to me,
    ‘Come along, and I’ll take you to Armstrong, and be on my way.’
    Leaving the Abbey behind us we climbed a short steep street called Cooks Lane, in which almost every shop was a food shop, out of which came odours that set my mouth watering anew, and from there we turned left into a narrower lane that smelt of hot iron and scorched hoof-horn. The smithy was set back from the street and its wide thatch stuck out, supported by roughly trimmed tree trunks, so that the animals awaiting attention and the men with them, were sheltered from the rain or sun. The space was crowded and the smith and three apprentices were working at full pelt. Old Betsy pushed her way in, leaving Kate to hold the donkey and beckoning to me to follow. When the smith, between jobs, straightened himself, he saw her and said,
    ‘Thass no good, dame. You must wait your turn today. I’m too busy to draw breath.’
    ‘Then I’m doing you a favour. I’ve brought you my young kinsman, a good smith, in his sixth year. His master died, poor man, and his forge was took over by a man with