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cast down as if ashamed.
    Now that I truly saw these people, they appeared, despite their cheerful music, a rough-cut clan. And beyond the fire’s edge, I noticed other weapons besides the sword and blade. Which is to say, these people were heavily armed—more so, it occurred to me, than might be considered needful.
    “As for that creature,” Elena said, looking toward what I had thought to be a miniature man, “he’s called a monkey.”
    “Is he not…human?”
    “Not at all,” said Elena.
    “Can he speak?”
    “Gibberish,” said Rauf.
    I stared.
    “Mostly harmless,” said Gerard. He leaned out and gave a sharp tug to the leather strip that held the beast. The monkey hissed at him.
    “Though,” added Rauf, “be advised: he has his temper, with teeth and claws. We call him Schim.”
    “Schim only obeys the boy,” Elena went on, turning the attention back to me, “but the beast helps us greatly in our work. And it’s our work,” she went on, “that takes us to Calais. A Master Humfrey Talbot, a wealthy merchant in the wool trade there, is having a wedding for his daughter. Word has spread that he wishes musicians to attend. We hope to play at the festivities and earn enough to bring us safely home to England.”
    “Forgive my ignorance, mistress,” I said. “But what manner of place is this Calais?”
    “It’s a fine walled city by the sea,” explained Gerard. “As many, they say, as three thousand live there—plus an English garrison.” He darted a glance at his brother for confirmation.
    “Great King Edward,” agreed Rauf, “took it from the French some years ago. Ever since, it’s been under English rule. And better for it, I’m sure.”
    “A trading place,” said Elena. “With much wealth.”
    “But mostly surrounded by the French,” added Woodeth. “Which is not so good. It can make it hard to reach.”
    “Indeed,” said Gerard with a glance at his brother, “we’ve been wondering how best to get there.”
    To this Elena quickly added, “But all sea merchants plying the English trade are required to pass through itsport. Many ships go back and forth.”
    “So it will take no real effort,” said Rauf, “for you to find your passage.”
    “God is kind,” I replied.
    “He has been to us,” said Rauf with a quick, sly look at the others.
    “But if you can make music,” Elena was quick to add, “you should consider joining us.”
    “The richer the sound, the richer the reward,” coaxed Gerard. “As Elena said, we’ve no one to play recorder.”
    “Not anymore,” said Rauf with a knowing air. “Owen,” he cried, kicking out upon the boy. “Fetch Master Mark’s recorder.”
    Owen started up—the monkey still clinging to him—grabbed a sack, and pulled out a weathered recorder. He offered it to Rauf, but the instrument was waved on to me.
    As I took it, I briefly wondered who Mark was and where he was now. More importantly, I knew I was being called upon to prove myself. Much, I thought, would depend on it.
    With the recorder in my hands, silently blessing the day Bear taught me how to play, I fingered the holes. I raised the instrument to my lips, took breath, and played a simple song.
    “‘Ah, Dear God, How Can This Be,’” said Elena, naming the tune I’d offered. “We know it well.”
    They all nodded and seemed relieved that I’d been able to prove I was what I claimed to be.
    I lay the recorder down and picked up three stones that lay at my feet. I began to juggle. That brought grins of delight. Even the boy gave a shy smile.
    “A juggler, too!” cried Rauf. “Nothing could be better.”
    “Deft hands are always welcome in our trade,” added a smirking Gerard with a quick look at the others, as if sharing a jest.
    “We can do tricks, too,” said Rauf. “Owen!” he cried. “Make Schim jump!”
    The boy set the monkey down and said, “Jump!”—the first word I heard him say.
    To my amazement, the creature did a complete somersault and