A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,72

elbow. "I'm absolutely famished," she said as soon as she swallowed. Bryant ordered a third.

With their meals in hand, Bryant led her to a rickety bench on the edge of a small clearing in the market. As they sat, Elena noticed two small, short tree stumps protruding from the ground. "What are those for?" she asked.

Bryant turned to look and said, "Oh, those are Viking stumps. Actually, no one knows what they're really called, but the Vikings introduced this game to the Welsh hundreds of years ago when they were constantly raiding our coast."

"How kind of them. How is it played?"

"A person will stand on each stump, a long rope held between them. When the game is begun, they both pull on the rope. The object is to force your opponent off his stump or pull the rope out of his hands. I imagine someone will begin playing soon enough and we can watch.

"But how simple--doesn't the biggest person always win?"

"Actually, no. There is a great deal of strategy and dexterity in the more skilled players."

As Elena ate, she wondered if women were allowed to play.

***

"Samuel, I would speak business with you a moment," Gareth said nervously.

The middle-aged weaver turned away from the small group of men talking in one corner of his shop. "Business, eh? I'm always willing to talk business, especially if it concerns you giving me money!" He laughed heartily and slapped Gareth on the shoulder. Seeing that Gareth was not laughing, he quickly sobered and asked, "What can I do for you?"

Gareth cleared his throat and began, "I need to purchase some cloth."

"Cloth, eh? I'm not sure if I can help you there." Again bursting into laughter--laughter that reminded Gareth of a braying mule--he turned to the wall of stacked bolts. Spying a mangled piece of crimson fabric, his laughter turned to sputters of outrage. "Look at this! People have no respect for a man's merchandise!" Pulling out the fabric, he shook it vigorously, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Now what type of fabric do you want and how much are you willing to spend?"

As he continued to shake the cranberry-colored fabric, Gareth had a sudden vision of Elena in the rich color, full skirts swirling around her feet, the soft fabric clinging to her hips.

"Is there enough of that fabric to make a lady's gown?"

"Oh, ho! A gown is it? Let me see." Carefully measuring the fabric from the end of one outstretched hand to the middle of his chest, he said, "There are eight lengths here, plus a little I won't charge you for."

"How much does it cost?" asked Gareth, pulling out the leather money pouch Morgan had given him.

Samuel gave his price, but before Gareth could naively hand over the money, Cynan bellowed, "That's highway robbery, old man! Don't pay it, Gareth, I'll take you to a much cheaper shop a couple of streets over."

Confused, Gareth looked back and forth between the two men, Samuel looking worried despite his smooth merchant's mask, and Cynan looking smug and slightly challenging. Suddenly distracted, Gareth asked his friend, "Where did you come from?"

"I just got off watch and came to find out the news."

Quietly, Gareth asked, "Is that really too much for the cloth?"

"I've no idea," Cynan responded in a whisper. "But one thing I've learned from Enid is that you never agree to a merchant's first price."

Gareth nodded, beginning to understand. In a louder voice, he said, "Perhaps I should look at this other shop. I need money for a chemise as well and this fabric would take all I have."

"Now, now," Samuel said as he rushed to block their exit. "You didn't let me finish. When I told you the price, I didn't get a chance to let you know that includes an equal length of this fine linen that would make a beautiful chemise.

"Linen?" Gareth asked, thinking quickly and getting into the negotiations. "Aren't chemises usually made of Italian cotton?" He remembered Elena bragging about that at some point in their journey.

Samuel laughed. “Only very expensive chemises for very grand ladies."

"Precisely," said Gareth and moved to leave.

"Alright, alright. You are stealing more from me than your father did this morning. Here," he said, pulling down a bolt of creamy cotton. "I'll give you five lengths--that's more than enough to make a chemise."

As Samuel measured out the cotton, Gareth fingered the soft wool. "Cynan? Do you think this color will look good on Elena?"

Cynan's eyebrows shot up. A smirk crossed his face and he looked