“He was a poor villein, only seventeen—we both were. He caught a cold that went into his chest. He lived for two weeks, barely able to breathe, and then he died.” Tears puddled under her eyes. “I almost never talk about it.”
“I am so sorry. I did not mean to cause you more pain.”
“No, no.” She shook her head as she wiped her face with her apron. “It is good for me to speak of it sometimes, I think. No one ever wants to speak of it. Probably they don’t want to see me cry again. But the pain . . . It doesn’t seem to get any better. My mother tells me I shall love again, but . . . I can’t imagine it.”
Evangeline suddenly felt selfish and thoughtless. She was so absorbed with her own problems, she had not thought to even ask Nicola about her life.
“But I don’t want you to think about me today.” Nicola sniffed and seemed to force a smile. “Today you can make me very happy if I can hear you sing, see you win the contest, and then hear tomorrow that Westley has kissed you and declared his love for you.”
Evangeline shook her head. “You are teasing me.”
“Not a bit. Now, let us go or you will be late, and then I shall have to tell Westley that it was my fault, and I don’t want his wrath falling on me.”
Evangeline hugged Nicola. “I am sorry for what you have suffered, Nicola.”
“It is the way of this world, as the priest told me. Life is fleeting.”
“But it was a cruel thing to have happen.” Evangeline looked down into her friend’s eyes. “I wish it had not happened to you.”
“Thank you, Eva.” She hugged her back. “Now, let us be going.”
They hurried out and found Reeve Folsham waiting for them. “Ready?”
They nodded and walked with him to the far meadow. People crowded the road as they were all walking that way. Colorful booths were set up all around the outside edge of the open space. People were pressing in on every side. Evangeline had never seen so many people in one place. Nicola greeted three young maidens who smiled and hugged her, while Reeve Folsham pushed his way through toward the stage that had been built at one end.
Evangeline stayed near him, losing Nicola in the crowd. The reeve inquired of some people who were standing nearby, then turned to her. “They will not begin the singing contest for several more hours.” His brow creased as he put his hand on her shoulder, as if to make sure she didn’t go anywhere while he looked all around the big meadow area, now teeming with people. “I think you’ll be safe if you stay in the crowd and don’t leave this area.”
Evangeline nodded. But she swallowed, even as she noticed all the strangers—men, women, and children—jostling each other and her. Her stomach clenched as she remembered being dragged outside among all the servants who thought she’d tried to poison them.
But nothing was going to happen. Reeve Folsham would be nearby. Westley should be somewhere not too far. Evangeline stood for a moment, looking for an opening so she could see what the people were selling. She’d never been to a festival, or even a market fair, except when she went with Muriel on the second day of their trip to Glynval.
Evangeline moved toward the closest booth where a woman was selling buns. “Get them while they’re still hot,” she called. Evangeline had some coins in her purse, which was attached to her belt. She drew one out and gave it to the woman, who smiled and handed her a bun. “Enjoy it.”
She checked over her shoulder to make sure the reeve was still where she had left him. He was, so she moved to the next booth. A man was selling leather purses with a burn etching of flowering vines, and some had decorative stitching in the shape of animals. Hanging from his booth were also large saddlebags, as well as some thick leather vests and mantles—protective gear for hunters.
“My wife makes the designs.” The man pointed to the swirling vines burned into some of the bags.
Evangeline smiled and nodded. They were beautiful, but she had no need of a bag or leather armor. She moved on to the next booth. She continued looking around, occasionally seeing some other servant she recognized, but no one talked to her. She moved about without attracting much attention, and she soon felt at ease.
The next booth she came to was at the edge of a stand of trees. It was full of candles, some of them with bits of aromatic herbs or flowers—little stalks of lilac, lavender, and rosemary—pressed into the wax. Evangeline picked up the lavender one and sniffed—it smelled just like Westley’s shirts. Her eyes fluttered closed.
Suddenly someone stepped around her, pushing her aside with his body. Immediately hands came in front of her face, covering her mouth and nose, and her feet left the ground.
She tried to fight back, but her wrists were pinned behind her back and a rough hemp sack was yanked over her head. She was carried like a flour sack, her head lower than her body.