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field beans were blackened with mildew and they'd be lucky to salvage enough to cover the bottom of a pot. The late hay crop had already been ruined by the rain and there was scarcely a sheaf of grain left standing. If it didn't stop raining soon, honey and cheese would be all anyone would have in their winter stores.
    Prices were up, but that was to be expected. The buyers grumbled, but they bought anyway. No point saving a few pennies, if next week there'd be nothing to spend them on. Besides, if you had to pay more for a barrel of pickled pork, you charged more for your knives. Too bad for those who had nothing to sell, that was their problem.
    Yes, all things considered it was a profitable fair for the merchants and peddlers, and Rodrigo and Jofre were doing well enough too, considering they had only been a monthon the road. At night, in front of a warm hearth in the inns, satisfied with their day's shrewd bargaining and mellow from hot food and strong ale, people would pay generously for an evening's entertainment. And Rodrigo and Jofre had talent, more than I'd seen in many a year, though talent is not enough on the road and they still had much to learn.
    They were used to playing to a lord's command. Lords and ladies know what they want. They can put a name to a song or demand you write a new one. They will even tell you what the subject of that song should be. But a crowd doesn't know what mood it's in, or if it does, it won't tell you. You have to be able to sense it. Is it in the mood for a love song or a rousing battle song, a story of daring adventure or a bawdy verse? Does the crowd want to sing along or sit and dream? It folds its arms and glowers as if to say, ‘Go on, lad, amuse us, and God help you if you don't.’
    But Rodrigo was anxious to learn. He could have spent his days dry and warm in the inns, for there was little point in attempting to play in the open market place in the rain, but he preferred to spend his time outside watching me work, trying to understand the rules of the new world in which he found himself.
    ‘The trick,’ I told him, ‘is to know what a customer wants before they know themselves. Watch.
    ‘Your daughter nearing her birth pangs, mistress? A dangerous time. You must be sick with worry. See this amulet. It has the names of the holy angels Sanvi, Sansanvi and Semangelaf engraved upon it. Demons will flee from the room the moment they catch sight of it. Expensive? Come now, mistress, what price would you put on the life of your daughter and grandchild? Thank you, mistress, and may she be delivered of a fine boy.’
    As he watched me pocket the coins, Rodrigo shookhis head in disbelief. ‘But how did you know her daughter was with child? Do you trade in fortunes as well as old bones?’
    ‘You must keep your eyes open if you want to survive on the road. I saw her earlier buying horehound, cinnamon and pennyroyal from that woman over there. What would she use that combination for, except to ease birth pains? She's not pregnant herself and she's too well dressed to be a servant, so it was a safe guess that it was for her own daughter. Now, take that man walking towards us, what do you think he'll buy?’
    I nodded towards a portly, sallow-skinned man wearing an outrageous confection of green and yellow on his head, clearly under the impression it was the last word in stylish hats. He constantly gazed around as he picked his way through the mud, beaming at anyone whom he perceived to be of a higher station than himself as if hoping to be recognized as one of them.
    Rodrigo looked the man up and down. ‘Now, that is the kind of man I do know. I have met many like him at my lord's court. He would only buy a relic if it came in a gold casket covered in jewels. You will never sell any of your wares to him.’
    ‘You're certain of that, are you?’
    ‘I would wager a tankard of mulled ale on it,’ he grinned, slipping back a pace or two as the merchant approached, to give me space