The peddler made a great show of continuing to emit heavy sighs as Aislynn dropped the coins into the palm of his hand. But there was no mistaking that his eyes had lost none of their humor. Neither did they disguise the trace of self-satisfaction in the curve of his lips.
With the transaction completed, the fellow grinned once more. “Now I wonder if I might interest either you, or any of your women, Lady Aislynn, in a bit of anything more frivolous.”
Without waiting for a reply, he swung around and flipped up a shutter along the side of the wagon to reveal a tray full of fripperies. Among them were inexpensively made bobbles, threads and ribbons.
As if of a single mind, the women stepped closer, Aislynn included.
Jarrod watched as Aislynn reached out to finger the end of a periwinkle-blue ribbon, then a much deeper sapphire one, which lay beside it. One of the women said, “The darker one would match your new gown, my lady. Of course, it would not be seen lest you leave your head uncovered.”
Aislynn nodded and picked up the dark ribbon.
“You are right, Therese. I need not always wear a covering on my head, even in winter.” She placed another coin into the tinker’s outstretched hand.
Not being one to ever have had a great interest in hair ribbons, Jarrod was surprised to find himself not only noting her purchase with some interest but with a decided disappointment at her choice. Not that he disliked the dark blue. It was certainly a color he would be more likely to prefer for himself. It was simply that the lighter shade matched her eyes.
Appalled at his own fanciful thought, Jarrod gave his head a vigorous shake.
Unconsciously he slid even further back into the shadow of the wall. He remained there until Aislynn and her women had concluded their other numerous interactions with the tinker. Gladly he watched as Aislynn stepped back, gave a final nod of her head and led her women into the kitchen.
Only when he was certain they were not coming back did Jarrod approach the tinker. The small energetic fellow had already begun to hang various items on their accustomed hooks.
The peddler looked up with a smile of welcome as Jarrod came to a halt beside him. “How may I serve you, my lord?”
Jarrod shrugged. “I was wondering if you might have happened upon the young lord Christian on the road some weeks past.”
The fellow shook his head. “Nay, my lord, I did not, though I do recall seeing him here at keep the last time I was at Bransbury. The lady Aislynn was so happy to have him home that she had to tell the tale of his return from the Holy Land to even me, a lowly tinker.”
Jarrod could not help feeling a sense of disappointment, though he’d had no real reason to believe he would learn anything from the man.
The tinker went on. “’Twas a sad thing to hear that Lord Christian was missing as I arrived this day. He was not long at home and I only really spoke with him twice.”
“Twice.” Jarrod’s brow furrowed with sudden concentration.
“Aye, the lady showed him to me when I came that day, all excited she was to have him home. As I said, he was a good sort, spoke to me man to man, not condescending as some nobles are wont to do. And he was no different when he came to me that night when I camped on the hillside outside the keep, as I do each time I pass through these climes.”
Jarrod was listening very carefully now. “He came to your camp?”
“Aye, he came down to my camp and talked with me while we shared a bottle of wine. Asked me about the places I had been and seen, which are considerable in my work.” He rolled his eyes, laughing. “The stories I told him and all the others I could have told if we’d had more than those few hours under the stars. Not that Lord Christian didn’t have his own stories to tell about him and his two friends.”
Jarrod restrained a sigh as he realized that this information, however entertaining it might be in other circumstances, only served to frustrate him now.
Finally the man said something that made the fine hair on the back of his neck prickle in alert. “Young lord Greatham, he seemed fair disappointed that I knew very little of a wee village called Ashcroft. I was sorry not to be able to tell him something of it other than that I’ve heard another of my trade mention the place. There seemed nothing of interest to say of it for he said it’s such a small village, and very isolated, that there’s little gain to be had there. No great family lives there, such as the Greathams here at Bransbury.”
Jarrod took a deep breath, trying to think calmly, to understand what this might mean. “You say Lord Christian was very disappointed that you could not tell him how to find this Ashcroft?”
“Aye, I’d say so. It was not anything he said, mind you. But I’ve something of a good eye for reading people after making my living at selling goods. A man has to know when to give a good-natured nudge when a customer is uncertain, or to leave go. If he pushes too hard he won’t be welcome in a place next time and if he has no enthusiasm for his craft…well…his children do not eat.”
Jarrod could not doubt the man. Had he not watched the exchange between him and Aislynn? Not that she had gotten the worst of the bargain. She had acquitted herself quite well in Jarrod’s opinion, though he was fairly certain she had ended in paying the price the tinker wished to receive for the pot.
Even if he wished to doubt the significance of the exchange between the tinker and Christian, he could not do so. For now, at long last, he had some bit of information to begin his search for his friend.
Thus if the tinker said Christian had been disturbed when they’d discussed this Ashcroft, Jarrod was determined to figure out why. He frowned. “But you say you do not know the location of this village?”
The other man shook his head then sighed. “Nay. I am sorry that I can offer you no more information than I have. As I said, it is remote, and perhaps if I think on the matter, the one who told me of it had just recently come from the north, toward Scotland.”
North toward Scotland. This brought an immediate thought of Kewstoke, his father’s lands, which were not far from the Scottish border. But Jarrod did not wish to think on this, nor of his feelings of grief when he had heard of his father’s death from a nobleman who had recently come from England some years ago in the Holy Land.
He must concentrate on what the peddler had told him. Though it was, in fact, precious little to go on, it was something. Jarrod bowed to the man. “You may have, in fact, been of some help to me. I am in your debt.”
The tinker bowed. “Then I am very glad to have been of service.” He gestured to his laden cart. “As for being in my debt, have no care for that other than to recall that I am a salesman. Should you have need of anything of a material nature, I would be happy to provide it.”
Jarrod knew there was unlikely to be any opportunity for him to make any purchases from the man.
The tinker laughed, shrugged and began gathering his goods together once more. As Jarrod watched, he reached out to close the shutter that would once more hide the tray with the ribbons Aislynn had examined earlier.
The periwinkle-blue ribbon caught his eye as before, bringing an unexpected idea. Seeing Aislynn with the tinker, watching her as she fulfilled her duties with wisdom and adroitness made him realize anew that he had been mad to ignore her. What harm could there be in offering a small token of peace?
Jarrod reached into his belt and removed a coin. “I will have the pale blue ribbon.”
The tinker quirked a brow and glanced toward the door where Aislynn had disappeared some minutes gone. “A very good choice, my lord.”
Jarrod made no reply to this obvious innuendo as the tinker reached to his own purse, for the sovereign Jarrod had placed in his hand was far too dear a price for a bit of ribbon. Jarrod stopped him. “Nay, pray keep it. As I said, you have done me a service.”
The