Gobelin Market - Part Three
Short serial
I’ve been late getting back to this, thanks to a big editing job and other distractions. If you’re just seeing this story for the first time, it’s the third part. The previous two are listed below.
Go here for Gobelin Market - Part One
Go here for Gobelin Market - Part Two
Guy returned with more beers and Rob took up his new pint, holding it up to the sunlight pouring in the window. “Good stuff this,” he said, before taking a long drink. “Brewed locally. Anyway, where was I?”
“Lance had just ridden back to Astolat after Vanni and his friends warned him off,” Guy said.
“Right. So, the next day, he checked that Vanni and the big boys were fully occupied at the stall, and off he went again to the house. Straight to the same tree, to gaze at the same tower window. But this time he was armed with binoculars!”
“A man after my own heart,” Guy said, thinking of his own store of binoculars and field glasses back on the boat. The beauty of travelling the canals was the chance to admire the countryside, whether it was summer, autumn, winter, or spring.
“So, he was up the tree, peering through his binoculars to see what he could see.” Rob wiped some foam from his upper lip. The pub around them was busy, others now sitting at their table, though fortunately engrossed in their own conversations.
“Well, there she was, a shoulder and an arm, and the side of her head, and her long hair hanging down. She was leaning over something and he pictured her working at her canvas, though he was no expert on such things and only had a vague idea. But it had something to do with stitching and pulling wool through and through. In his mind he could see her silver needle glinting in the morning sun. He wondered how she could see anything with the sun shining from the south like that for it was getting near midday. The light was sure to be glaring at her from the mirror.
“After a while he jumped down. He’d do a spot of sunbathing by the bank and in full view of that window,” Rob said with a conspiratorial wink at Guy who laughed.
“Anyway, he pulled off his shoes and socks, his shirt, and stretched out on the grass. He knew what he was about. He never looked through the binoculars for the rest of the day, just lay there until it was time to go. Then he did the very same the next day and the one after that, but only stayed for an hour or so, before leaving.
“The May Day market week had passed. Gobelin Market now appeared once a week. But every morning, Guy could see Vanni and the other two driving off. As for Elaine, she sat at that window, head bowed, each time he arrived.
“I told you he was a student. There were exams to sit, so he started taking his books and notes up there, lazing around on the grass. Finally, one day, a real scorcher it was, he stripped off most of his clothes, and sunbathed by the bank. Now he was stopping by every other day, intending to tease her. He was sure she must have seen him by now. He didn't always sunbathe. Sometimes he went for a stroll along the bank, then left. Always careful to leave before Vanni returned.
“When college finished, he got a summer job in a bar. He was back out at the tower house, working his visits around his shifts.
“Eventually the rains came. For a week it was pelting down. No chance of sunbathing. And though it pained him, he stayed away. Nearly two weeks he stayed away. And then early in the Midsummer Market week he returned.
“Wildflowers were bursting on the bank, and he wondered whether to pick some for her. Which he did, after another spot of sunbathing. There was no one up there at the window, as far as he could see, but he crossed the bridge anyway, only to find that the great door was standing open. There was no sign of the van. When he knocked on the door, there was no answer.
“He stepped inside and called her name. Hesitant, of course. Since he didn’t want to be taken for a thief or something. When there was no answer, he walked into the hall. There he gazed around at the great tapestries on the walls, and a long banqueting table laden with food and fruit, when something caught his eye. Something glinting on the floor. When he looked closer he saw a golden thread. It ran over to the staircase next to him and up the stone stairs. So up he went after it, taking the steps two at a time, coming out on the first floor, but the thread meandered up to the next floor and the next, while he followed behind. Now the staircase narrowed, ending on a small landing with a half-open door. He had his bearings now. This was the south tower room she was working in last he was here.
“As for the room, it was just like Vanni described, with tapestries on the walls and, blocking the window, a large circular disk with a sturdy wooden frame. When he saw her, she was a few steps from the frame, threads wound around her legs as though she’d suddenly turned at his footstep.
“She was tall, taller than he was, and her hair hung to her waist just as Vanni said. In contrast to the rest of her creamy skin, her cheeks and the tips of her ears were quite pink, and her bottom lip full and ruddy, and she had the grace of a gazelle in her long limbs.
“In one hand she held her needle, now unthreaded. In her other she clutched a pair of shears. At his glance, she looked down and seeing the threads enclosing her, she unwound herself, turning and turning until she was free and in front of her frame again. Then she dropped the needle and sheers on to her worktable. Behind her head, the window stood wide open and he saw the spires of Astolat in the distance.
“Tongue-tied he was then, looking back at her. And as he cast around for something to say, with the wildflowers still clutched in his hand, his eyes fell on the hangings on her walls. Some were old, but others seemed newer. There, in one, he saw the black knight, the same one he saw in the canvas at the market but, this time, instead of looking at the tower in the distance, he was standing by the moat, sheathed in what looked like soft black armour, with his helmet under his arm, and there was no mistaking the face. It was his face.”
“Lance’s face?” Guy asked.
“Yes. Looking at the other pictures, he saw himself again and again, lying half-naked on the grass, tiny stitches picking out more details than he ever thought possible. And in another, he followed a golden thread up a spiral staircase. In still another, he looked on as a crowd milled around a market stall exactly like Gobelin Market.
“Well, he was shocked, of course. Work like that takes months, even years. They were big canvases. And he’d only started coming to the place weeks before. He turned to stare at her. Her eyes seemed as big then as the mirror itself, and just as all-seeing. All of a sudden, he wanted to get out of there, away from this queer silent girl who could stitch out pictures of things before they happened. He wanted to get out into the sun and the open air, where he could breathe again. So, without a word to her, or a backwards glance, he dropped the flowers on a side table and took to his heels.
“As he rode home, he made up his mind not to go back. He’d satisfied his curiosity, had seen her with his own eyes. And she wasn’t the type he’d want to take out on a date. A normal girl would do for him.” Rob finished his pint and looked expectantly at Guy who laughed and took out his wallet.
He suspected Rob intended to string things out for a few drinks. Anyway, time for another round. There was a crowd at the bar. He’d have to fight his way through. But he had nothing better to do right now.
Art by JW Waterhouse. Both based on The Lady of Shalott. I’ve been late posting this installment owing to a big developmental edit I’m currently working on. But I didn’t want to leave part three any longer. More to come.