A Box Of Magic
by
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
TFA Press on Smashwords
A Box of Magic
Copyright © 1987, 2011 by Darragh Metzger
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A Box Of Magic
The merchant-farmer Rodolfo rode to the Great Fair at Belmont in style, as was his wont. Dressed in the finest wool and leather of sober cut in somber shades, he rode to the main gate on a well-behaved bay mare named Linnet, of whom he was inordinately fond, ahead of his train of seven wagons. The mare had carried him to the Fair every year for the past twenty, and she was nearing a time when she could do so no longer, but her coat was still shiny with good health, her step jaunty.
The wagons were neat, well-sprung, flawlessly kept, and filled to bursting with bales of fine wool, sacks of grain, crates of finely made house wares, barrels of wine, and great clay jars of the rich, sweet olives that grew so well on Rodolfo's lands. In the first wagon, some of these riches had been squeezed aside to make room for the tents and poles, two medium-sized trunks of Rodolfo's personal belongings, his wife, and his two small sons, aged five and seven and one-half years. Rodolfo had never brought them to the Fair before; the boys because they had not been old enough, his wife because she had never before expressed a desire to do so.
But this year, Gabrielle had actually approached him and asked, in her shy, quiet way, if they could come, too. Well, what could he say? Since, in almost ten years of marriage, this was the first request he could recall her making of him, Rodolfo had done his best to accommodate her. Gabrielle was a good wife, and he wished to be an indulgent husband, as much as time permitted. There was always so much work to do on a farm, and so little time for frivolity. He hoped the excitement of the Fair would prove a tonic for Gabrielle. She had grown rather silent and wan over the years.
There were no such concerns about the boys, of course. All children loved the Fair. He remembered as much from his own boyhood. Rodolfo frowned briefly, reminding himself to have the servants take the boys over as much of the Fair as they could in the short time they would be here.
Rodolfo, for his part, had no interest in the rest of the Fair. He hated being away from his estates, hated the feeling of creeping dread, the fear that all his wealth would slip away during his absence, his lands wither and erode without his constant vigilance. After all, when one's prosperity is maintained by magic, one can afford complacency no more than laziness.
Rodolfo made the long journey to the Fair every year for one reason and one reason only: to renew the magic that enriched his lands. He stayed only long enough to ensure that his horses and servants would be well-rested for the trip home, and since he was never one to waste an opportunity, he conducted business while he waited. But all that was secondary.
His only real business at the Fair at Belmont was with the tsigane woman, Grimelda.
As Rodolfo approached the wooden gates, he scanned the Fairgrounds beyond the low stone wall. The Great Fair lasted the entire month from late harvest to the first winter rains, and it was still early days; things really hadn't gotten started yet, and there were many empty places waiting for booths to fill them. Most of the casual visitors wouldn't start arriving for another week. Now was when the various traders and other professionals came to set up their tents and booths, those whose wares were marketed chiefly to lesser merchants who would cater directly to the public.
Movement caught his eye. On the other side of the gates, a cluster of boys and youths rose to their feet, trying to identify Rodolfo's caravan. Several of them scampered off to tell their masters of his arrival. Rodolfo nodded in satisfaction; business could be concluded swiftly once word reached the proper ears. No unnecessary delays this year. As soon as everyone was properly rested, they could all turn around and go home. After he had seen Grimelda, of course.
The thought brought a smile to lips that, for the most part, had forgotten how, and Rodolfo kept it there for the benefit of the friar sitting at the long table before the gate. To the brothers of the local monastery had fallen the task of collecting taxes on the goods that passed through the gates into the Fairgrounds each year, which so enriched the city of Belmont, there on the hills overlooking the Fairgrounds and the inlet beyond.
By now, Rodolfo knew most of the brothers given the duty of gate-keepers. Brother Lugo had watched this particular gate for the first week of the Fair for the past eight years. Rodolfo sidled Linnet up close to the table before dismounting, ignoring the muscle twinges in his back and thighs. "Still looking fit, I see, Brother Lugo. The life of the Church agrees with you."
The friar returned his smile warmly. "Good day to you, Master Rodolfo! I thought to see you here today or tomorrow — on time, as usual. The year has treated you well, has it?"
Rodolfo spread his hands. "Well enough. Seven wagons this year, the usual assortment of goods, plus some new items — hand-carved wooden and kiln-fired clay house wares, other simple things made by a few of my pensioners. And I've brought my family." He extended a hand toward the wagon behind him.
Brother Lugo raised his eyebrows. "Your family! Well, what an occasion! I look forward to meeting them at last." He looked past Rodolfo to where Gabrielle, a sweet-faced, tired-looking woman, sat beside Rodolfo's steward, Tulo, who held the reins. Two small boys with eager, hopeful expressions peered out from behind her. The friar bowed his head respectfully to Gabrielle with a courteous smile that widened at the sight of the boys. He signaled three Fair-guards, waiting behind him, to inspect and confirm the contents of the wagons while he continued the conversation. "How fortunate you are, my friend. A lovely wife and two fine sons."
"Rafeo and little Tomba. They are old enough now, I think, to begin to learn of their responsibilities." Rodolfo turned to open one of his saddlebags to extract his purse. After all these years, he could estimate the final gate fee to within a few coins, even before the friar finished his tally. He did not see Brother Lugo shake his head, but he heard the disapproval in the Friar's mild voice.
"Master Rodolfo," Brother Lugo said, "One must let children be children while they may."
Rodolfo turned back to the friar, frowning in surprise at the unaccustomed rebuke. "My father let me be a child, and so I remained one for far too many years. It nearly cost me my entire inheritance. My sons will not be allowed to be so foolish."
The friar's gaze strayed back to the nearby wagons. His face softened, and he shook his head. "Rodolfo, that was long ago. You have more than made up for any past folly. You are one of the most successful farmers at the Fair. Other merchants beg for your goods. Those who know of such things sing the praises of your wares. Each year you leave richer and more respected than when you came. When will it be enough for you to simply enjoy it?" He looked up at Rodolfo as if expecting a reply, but the set scowl on the farmer's face told him he'd overstepped the bounds of their acquaintance. Brother Lugo shrugged and, after conferring in whispers with the senior Fair-guard, calculated the tax.
Rodolfo counted the money out carefully onto the table before he changed the subject. "The old herb-woman, the tsigane Grimelda — has she arrived yet?"
Brother Lugo frowned. "She is here," he confirmed reluctantly. "Her stall is in the first northeastern row, with the others of her ilk." Then he sighed. "Really, my friend, it is beyond my understanding why a man of your wealth and obvious intelligence does not seek aid from a qualified physician, or the Church, instead of among the granny-wives and hoax peddlers...."