IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON, SHORTLY after the bells had rung for None, when I stepped away from the back door of the Green Man. Running, I regained the main street and once there began to look upon the town at my ease.
As I went about, the hurly-burly world of countless people, buildings, and wares struck me with even greater force. If anything, Great Wexly seemed more tumultuous, with more people, more happenings than even before. But I was feeling bold and quite sure of myself. I don’t need Bear to see the world, thought I.
As I stood upon the street—enjoying the buffeting of those who passed, not sure which way I wished to go—a crowd of children rushed by, yowling and laughing. Curious to know where they would go and what they would do, I ran after them.
The young people turned this way and that, and then, just as they had appeared, they vanished. I had not the slightest idea where they had gone.
Though baffled, I was not a bit disconcerted. With so much to see, I was content to ramble on, pausing to look at whatever took my interest, of which there was no scarcity. As for my penny, I purchased some white bread from a street vendor. It was light and sweet, and took little chewing to get down, which I found passing strange.
After a while I found the courage to leave the main, stone-paved street, and began to wander among back ways. These proved to be dirt and mud lanes. Though very narrow, they cast an even greater stench than the main thoroughfare.
These ways twisted and turned in every conceivable direction, with no logic that I could grasp.
Yet I found myself excited not to know where I was going. How marvelously odd, I thought, to be required to pick and choose which way to go. What did I care that I had to make so many choices? It give my head a pleasing whirl.
And still more people. Of so many kinds. Some I could see—from the way they dressed—were poor. Yet even so, they appeared to mingle with others of far greater wealth, and no one took offense.
In time I found myself upon the main stone street again. It was there I saw a woman riding sidesaddle astride a great black palfrey whose saddle and harness were trimmed with gleaming silver. Though the lady wore a black cape, I could see her gown. It was a brilliant blue, trimmed with golden fur. Her hair was tucked behind a squared-off, ruffled, netted cap of black lace. Her feet were shod in golden shoes with pointy tips. Her small hands were encrusted with sparkling jewels. As for her face of elder years, it was pale and haughty, and did not—or so it seemed—take in the world about her. Yet as she went by, she pressed a silken cloth to her nose as if to block the offending street stench. Her nose knew where she was.
Before her marched a boy dressed entirely in black, a short gold-and-blue cape draped over one shoulder. He carried a long horn of bright metal from which dangled a flag of blue and gold. With every few steps he took he lifted the horn to his lips and blared out notes to announce the lady’s progress.
Clustered around this lady were six men, wearing tunics with padded chests, their puffed sleeves lengthened to cover half their hands. One man led the lady’s horse. Others marched on either side of her, while three more came behind. By the swords they carried, it was clear they were her guards. Though not so sumptuously dressed as she, they were splendid enough to look upon in their blue-and-gold livery. On each left sleeve was a band of black.
For me she was an amazing sight. I had never seen such astounding wealth. Another marvel for my eyes.
As she passed, people on the streets hastily made way for her, some doffing their hats, or inclining their heads in reverence. Some even went down upon their knees, so I knew her to be a personage of great power.
And yet when the noble lady had once gone by, the crowds knitted together just as before, milling about, strolling, buying or selling. It was as if she had never been there.
“Who was that?” I asked a boy standing near.
He gave me a look of astonishment, as if I should have known. “Why, it’s Lady Furnival.”
I turned quickly to look after her, but she had gone.