Drop of the Dice by Philippa Carr Page A

retorted Lance. ‘It’s such a pathetic story. Do you know the rest of it, Clarissa?’
    ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘The Earl’s lady went off with the gipsies.’
    ‘So you do know the story.’ He went on singing:
    ‘Last night I lay on a good feather bed
    And my own wedded lord beside me
    And tonight I’ll lie in the ash corner
    With the gipsies all around me.
    ‘The castle lost for the love of the gipsies. What do you think of the Earl’s lady? Was she a wise woman or a foolish one?’
    ‘Foolish,’ I replied promptly. ‘She would soon get tired of the ash corner and the gipsies all around her. She’ll be wanting her high-heeled Spanish shoes before long, you can be sure.’
    ‘What a practical girl you are! I thought you would have more romantic ideas. Most girls have.’
    ‘I am not most girls. I am myself.’
    ‘Ah, we have an individualist here.’
    ‘I think the lady was not only foolish but unkind.’ I sang the last verse of the song.
    ‘The Earl of Casham is lying sick
    Not one hair I’m sorry
    I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips
    Than all his gold and money.’
    ‘And you find such sentiments foolish?’ asked Lance.
    ‘Extremely so.’
    So we chattered rather frivolously until we stopped at an inn for refreshment and to rest the horses; but after a short stay there we were on our way again.
    We passed through villages and towns and I noticed that Carl was watchful, as though he were looking out for something. I knew of course that they were going to York for some secret purpose and I was glad, for to travel in their company—and particularly that of Lance—was exhilarating.
    Through the golden afternoon we rode on and at dusk came to an inn which they had previously decided should be the one where we spent the night.
    Rooms were prepared for us and we had a grand meal of fish with a delicious sauce, followed by roast mutton and a kind of syllabub which was a speciality of the innkeeper’s wife. I was given cider and the man sat back sipping their port. While we were at table a man came into the dining room. I don’t know why I noticed him. He was dressed in a dark brown frieze coat with black buttons, brown shoes and black stockings. On his formally curled peruke was a three-cornered hat which he took off when he came into the inn parlour.
    He sat close by and I had the impression that he was interested in us. It might have been that Lance Clavering’s elegance would arouse interest wherever he went. Uncle Carl certainly looked less impressive without his uniform. As for myself I was only a very young girl and I had a feeling that it was the men who were arousing the stranger’s interest. He sat quietly in a corner and after a while I forgot him.
    I was tired out with the day’s riding and the fresh air had made me sleepy, and as soon as I was shown to my room I went to bed and slept deeply. I was amazed that morning came so swiftly and I was aroused by the stirring of the inn folk. I got up and looked out of my window. Lance was down there. He looked up and saw me.
    ‘Did you sleep well, beauteous maid?’ he asked.
    ‘The sleep of exhaustion,’ I told him.
    ‘What tired you so? Not my company, I hope.’
    ‘No, that was enlivening. I went to sleep thinking about the Earl’s lady.’
    ‘That foolish one! There’s no need to hurry this morning. We shall be late leaving. One of the horses has cast a shoe. They’ll be taking her along to the smith.’
    ‘Oh… when did this happen?’
    ‘I’ve just discovered it. We shall be leaving at eleven. That will give us a chance to go to the fair.’
    ‘The fair? What fair?’
    ‘With your entertainment in mind, I. have been acquainting myself with the lie of the land. It seems that in the village of Langthorn… or is it Longhorn, I am not sure… in any case, the fair comes to the village twice a year and it so happens that this day is one of its biannual visits. Fortuitous, you may say, and so it is. The powers that