The Last Dragon 12Peter Goes to the Fair and What He Finds There
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Literature · Adventure
The Last Dragon 12
Peter Goes to the Fair and What He Finds There
TotherohEnglish
Very soon they left the road and made a short-cut across the fields, treading through tall grass and carpets of large red wild flowers. Peter walked in sort of a daze. Everything had happened so quickly and in such a strange manner that every so often he was sure he must be dreaming.
“I really shouldn’t be going with these queer people,” he argued with himself,--“I should keep on following the king’s highway. Doing this, I’ll be lost for good, and I’ll never see Grams, or Janet Jane, or Johnathan or the dwagon again. I ought to stay on the road.” And yet he continued to walk on with the mountebank. “Still,” he argued the other way, “what else is there for me to do? The mountebank says it would take me twenty years to walk to Ireland. Let’s see? Twenty and six?--that would make me twenty-six when I got there. They wouldn’t know me then, I’d be so old. No, I guess I’d better stay with these people and see what happens.”
They climbed a little hill and Peter found himself looking down on a tiny hamlet with a gray church and little nudging houses with roofs of red, red tiles. A patch of green was the village square, and Peter could see tall and gay May-poles and tents with bright awnings, and merry music floated up to him on the sweet, fresh air. People in gay costumes filled the square.
“We’re very late,” exclaimed the girl--“let’s run down the hill!” And taking the bear’s paw, she started. The mountebank took a firmer grip on Peter’s arm and ran also. Poor Peter! The clown seemed to have wings on his shoes instead of bells because he fairly flew down the hill, and poor Peter had a dreadful time keeping up with him, running in stiff armor. Every few steps his joints would stick and down he would fall with a crash, making a noise like ten dishpans falling, and then up the mountebank would pull him and on they would fly. In this way, they reached the edge of the square in no time, and paused to catch their breath. Peter’s armor was filled with dents and his helmet had worked around to one side so that he could only see with one eye.
The mountebank helped him to straighten it, and just as they were about to move on, there was a burst of shouting and yelling and high giggling, and from all directions children in ribbons and flowers, their sunny hair flying, surrounded the players, piling themselves as thick as honey bees on the clown and the bear. “Dear old Beppo!” they cried, kissing the clown, “And dear, dear Chuckles!” kissing the bear. “We’re so glad to see you again. We were afraid you weren’t coming.”
“We’re a little late, I must admit,” said the clown, shaking the children off his shoulders, “but we couldn’t help it. It’s a long walk from Rome, you know.”
“Of course,” cried the children--“Well, come along. We want to see you swallow your sword again!” And they dragged him into the square. Peter was dragged along also for with so many children it was like being on a very crowded street when you have to go where the others are going whether you want to or not. On the way, the children flung all sorts of questions at Peter. “Who are you going to fight?” “Have you ever killed a dragon?” “Where’s your horse?” “Is that sword sharp?” And many more which Peter couldn’t answer because he didn’t want them to find out that he was just a little boy.
And now they were in the thick of the fair. In its way it was just as noisy as the shop of Allan the armorer, but the noises here were all jolly, just made for fun,--the fun of the spring time when the blossoms are out once more and the grass is thick and green, and the birds have returned.
The mountebank and the bear were indeed very popular. So was the gipsy girl when she began to dance, and coins fell all around her like silver rain. The bear picked them up and put them in a pouch he wore on a belt around his middle.
Then the bear danced all by himself, using the silver chain for a skipping rope, and then Beppo asked Peter for his sword, and after balancing it on his chin, he put the sharp tip of it into his mouth and began to swallow it slowly! When Peter saw it half gone, he became afraid and called, “Don’t swallow all of it, Beppo!” for he certainly didn’t want to be left all alone in the Dark Ages without a sword, but Beppo only grinned and continued to swallow, and finally it got down to the hilt and was almost gone when Beppo pulled it out again and handed it back to Peter.
The crowd cheered and threw more silver coins and even gold ones, and again the bear picked them up. After that, Beppo turned many amazing handsprings and doubled himself up into knots, just like a snake--his bones seemed to be made of jelly--and then the three troubadours danced, the bear in the middle, and ended up, standing on their heads, grinning upside down.
My, how the crowd applauded and shouted, and how the children swarmed around! All the other booths and attractions were deserted and the crowd became so thick that Peter was elbowed out, and before he knew it, he found himself wandering alone down a little street of tents flashing as many colors as a field of wild flowers.
Peter saw one tent that said spider monkeys over the door and another that said snake charmers and yet another that said fresh peacock sandwiches. He wanted to see the spider monkeys and he was hungry enough to try a peacock sandwich, but he had no money, so on he wandered, wondering just where he was going and what would happen next, when he came to a tent of bright scarlet, outside of which sat a strange old man with a long white beard and the sharpest pair of beady eyes that Peter had ever seen. He wore a moldy green cloak and red pointed shoes turned up at the ends, and a little green hat shaped like a sauce pan with an owl’s feather in it, and his nose was shaped just like a fish hook. He was rubbing his long and knotted hands together and they made a noise like sandpaper, while he mumbled over and over some strange rhyme that sounded like, Bubble, trouble,--trouble, bubble--quite like a tea pot when it’s ready for tea.
He stopped mumbling when he saw Peter and he said, quickly: “How would you like to see a princess with toes of silver?”
Peter was so startled that he just stood there with his mouth wide open. Had he heard that really and truly, from the lips of this strange old man?
“Well?” spoke the little man again, “I asked you a question. Why don’t you answer me? Have you no tongue or are you deaf?”
“N-no,” stammered Peter, “I--I don’t think I quite heard what you said. I was thinking of something else.”
The beady eyes were fixed upon him again and the little man repeated in sort of a sing-song, “How would you like to see a princess with toes of silver?” And Peter, after gulping, and feeling his heart leap up and turn over, asked: “Really, really silver?”
And the stranger replied, winking one of his crafty eyes, “As silver as the throne of the Silver King and much more polished.”
“Is--is she in there?” questioned Peter, pointing at the bright scarlet tent.
“She is for a fact,” said the odd old man, “and you may see her for a ducat of gold.” And again he rubbed his hands together, making the same gritty noise like sandpaper.
“But--but I have nothing--not even a penny,” said Peter.
“What’s a penny?” asked the stranger.
“It’s a--it’s a--well, it’s a penny--you can buy lemon sticks with it, and--and--but since I haven’t one--”
The odd little man scowled, fearfully. “What sort of a knight are you, going about without money?” he said. “Well, I’d certainly borrow some ducats at once, if I were you, and then you could see the only princess in captivity with silver toes.”
Quick as a flash, Peter had an idea. “Will you still be here when I get back?” he asked, his eyes leaping with excitement.
“Yes, if you’re not gone until next Easter,” snapped the little man, beginning to braid his long whiskers, two braids at a time.
“Why, no--I’ll be back in a jiffy,” said Peter, and he ran around the tent and found himself in the middle of the square again.
He had no trouble locating the clown and his troupe for they were still the center of an admiring crowd, and as Peter pushed his way through, he heard an old lady with one front tooth say to an old lady with two front teeth, “Beppo’s goin’ to swaller a sword agin!” And the old lady with two front teeth chuckled and cackled, “Yes, an’ the bear’s goin’ to dance agin an’ the pretty girl’s goin’ to sing. Makes me disgusted since I can’t hear.”
Peter had some trouble in getting through the crowd to the front and was often hurled back by burly townsfolk, butchers and bakers and candlestick makers, but at last he stood on the edge of the cleared space, just as Beppo had a butcher’s knife half way down his throat. Every one was silent with admiration until he had finished his trick, and then they applauded most generously and threw coins and even ribbons and tiny bouquets of red poppies and blue, blue cornflowers.
Presently, out leaped the gipsy girl and began to dance, light, light, light, shaking a tambourine, and then the bear, lump, lump, lump, clanking his chain, and before any one could think, Peter had dashed out and was dancing with them, all in his dented armor, with his joints squeaking like baby mice, and his sword clanking. Spurred on by the desire to see the princess, he did many things that he had never done before. He stood on one foot and whirled like a top. He did three beautiful cartwheels. He stood on his head. He walked on his hands and then he did cartwheels again. Every one became so interested in this dancing knight, dancing so gracefully in heavy armor, that they concentrated all their attention on him, and when he had finished, they cheered mightily and threw all their flowers and all their coins at his feet.
Breathless, Peter stood, the coins hitting his armor, until Beppo took him by the shoulders and shaking him a little said, “Wake up, boy, those coins are for you. Pick them up before the thieves get them, and the next time, don’t tell us you can’t dance!”
“But--but I can’t, really,” said poor Peter, stooping to pick up the coins. He waited only long enough to find some gold ones and then he ran for the street of tents with all his might. With time so strange here, it might be Easter already, for all he knew.
