Besides, it was late, and she needed some rest—especially after that—so she rolled away from him, and he grunted discontentedly.
‘Thank you,’ she smiled, turning back to kiss him gently, and swiftly. ‘Good night, Thorn, and rest well.’
And though he looked somewhat surprised, he neither said anything, nor moved much at all, while she threw on her shirt, and made her way towards their interconnecting door.
‘Good night, Hypatia,’ he finally said.
So she smiled back at him, and left, cleaning up before tucking into her own bed.
Thinking all the while, how well suited they were indeed, since he didn’t seem to be of the sort who minded she didn’t stay—but rather of the sort who liked their pleasure, and their own personal space as she did.
Much more than I expected.
Chapter Fourteen
A fortnight, or so, later
The sun was merely a promise, hues and hints of orange and pink mingling with purple and turquoise at the edges of the sky, proper sunrise still a couple hours away, but already, this part of the city was alive, buzzing with life and excitement, for it was market day. Pens, covered spaces, carts and signs vied for attention amidst the mass of bodies—human and animal of all varieties.
A thousand cries—bleats, snorts, yells, and everything else one could imagine—mingled and punctuated the complex aroma to be expected in such a place—dung, sweat, and feed every so often offset by a hint of perfume or lavender soap—and though this one didn’t quite rival the greatest city markets, it was enough be a proper example of such a place as humanity had seen for millennia.
The hum and energy was admittedly helping Thorn gain in liveliness and enthusiasm—otherwise stymied by a two a.m. departure, so they could arrive in time, and not have to pay for lodgings for the night, or someone to undertake this endeavour for them—and he took a long deep breath, letting everything, pleasant and unpleasant, penetrate him fully.
This…this too is part of who you are now.
‘So this is a livestock market,’ Hypatia said, now they had a moment to breathe, settled in their allocated spot as they were, somewhat awed.
A sentiment which, if he was honest, he shared; on many counts.
Surprisingly, it was also Thorn’s first visit to such a place—not just a livestock market, but a market of this scale. Perhaps he might’ve, to give demonstrations of his skills, or drum up new clients; however, he’d been lucky in inheriting a solid business from his father, with enough well-paying and faithful clients—who also admittedly brought more custom through word-of-mouth—and any further patrons he sought, he did so discreetly, and personally. So while he’d been to markets before, fetes, and fairs, this was another beast altogether for him too. His awe and fascination, akin to Hypatia’s, was also likely due in some measure to being in the thick of it, of not being some browsing potential buyer of whatever wares or produce was on offer, or curious onlooker of all the same, but instead being here to sell. Not being a visitor, but instead an integral part of this strange new world.
Which someday might not feel so strange at all; as all the rest of the novelties in my life have become normal.
‘We did well, I think,’ Hypatia commented, glancing at those others around them; their pens, their signs and general presentation, including their clothes. ‘Especially given the time in which we prepared.’
‘Yes. We’ll have to thank Reeves.’
Indeed, when they’d finally sat down and begun to organise, they’d realised…they had no real idea of how to organise, of the way things were done, what to do, really, and it wasn’t the sort of knowledge which could easily be acquired from books.
Equally, no one they knew well enough to ask had much to offer on such things, being mostly experienced with othermanners of trade or markets. And it wasn’t as if Hypatia and Thorn particularly cared to go knocking on doors, asking for help. So it had been a boon when Reeves had turned up at their door—with a lamb in tow for Hypatia, which Henry had thankfully taken charge of, and who had since become fast friends with Truffél, wreaking havoc on poor Langton’s kitchen garden, amongst other tomfoolery. It had thankfully been a sunny day, so they’d been able to invite Reeves for tea in the garden, where Henry and Mary had set up some wrought iron garden furniture they’d found who knew where; Thorn had learned to be grateful, and not ask questions.
In any case, over tea, Mr Reeves had advised them on this market—Maidstone, a city with a long history of trade and commerce, and featuring the closest and best market for their purposes—as well as given them a detailed idea of how things ran, and how to prepare. So they’d followed his advice, gathered as large and varied a selection as they could transport themselves in three carts—Thorn, Ian, and Danny each driving one—and packed their supplies, including a simple wooden sign markedGadmin Hall FarmThorn had made, and here they were. Dressed in their new clothes—Hypatia’s dress sans adornments in the end—looking the part of well-to-do, but not too out-of-their-depth aristocratic landowners and farmers. Now, all there was to do, was…wait.
And pray someone wanted what they had to sell.
A wait which grew rather exponentially as it happened, hours trickling by, though potential buyers were aplenty. Except none seemed interested in whatGadmin Hall Farmhad to offer, though they would stop at the farmers around them.
Thorn and Hypatia watched, trying to discern how to better attract clients, only there seemed to be no fixed method. Some would engage, others let their pigs, goats, chickens, cows orgeese do the talking. The only commonality seemed to be ease and familiarity.
‘Oi, Joe Morton, I got them chickens ye wanted!’
‘Why, Mr Banner, ye’ll be pleased with these bucks I have today!’
‘Susan still making that nice cheese for you, Mr Waters?’
It wasn’t that Hypatia and Thorn didn’t try to engage with ahellohere or agood daythere—if anyone dared come within a few feet as opposed to leaving wide enough a berth theHMS Victorymight pass—and sometimes would be afforded a look, but nothing more. A dismissive glance, a judgemental up-and-down, a quick, unjustified measuring-up of the swine on offer, and they’d move along. Soon enough, the sun had properly risen, and it wouldn’t be long before it would come time to clear out; at this rate, they’d be going home worse off than they’d come.
Thorn glanced to Hypatia for perhaps the millionth time—Danny and Ian having been sent to do some shopping, and fetch some tea, the four of them certainly not needed at present—to see if the despondent look they’d both sported progressively more obviously with each hour whiled away, remained, but instead he found his wife’s gaze focused on a large man across the way, who was well, but not expensively dressed, and engaging in haggling the price of hogs.
