Markets
Past and Present
By
Lesley Wilson
A small North
Yorkshire town provided me with the inspiration behind the fictitious
settlement of Kilterton featured in my trilogy of medieval adventures. According
to my research the town has hosted markets since the thirteenth century, and I’ve
had great fun comparing the days of yore with twenty-first-century markets.
Today, orderly stalls are set up, in the main, by well-mannered traders. Public
liability insurance to the tune of millions must be carried by each one of them.
Goods offered for sale need the stamp of approval from health and safety
authorities, and woe betide anyone who flouts the rules. Baby chicks can sometimes be purchased, but
rarely any other form of livestock. Traffic moves at snails’ pace along the
street, chuffing out exhaust fumes for shoppers to inhale. On market day parking
places are at a premium, and people using mobile phones bump into one another
as they walk along. Smart bistros offer a dozen or more varieties of coffee and
fancy foods for groups of friends to enjoy. Clinically tested medicines are
available to help alleviate minor ailments. More serious afflictions require a
visit to the Doctor. Pilfering from
unwary shoppers occurs from time to time.
How different the
scenario in medieval times!
Fumes rose from the
steamy droppings of numerous animals brought to market for sale or exchange. Voices
were raised in competition with hawkers and a cacophony of squawking,
bellowing, and heehawing livestock. Traders squabbled over the best sites to
display their wares, and fists regularly came to the fore. Items laid on the ground were accidentally trampled
on; uncovered foodstuff swiftly became fly blown. No health and safety
regulations in the thirteenth century! One
or two affluent vendors enjoyed the use of a table, lugged into town on a
donkey-drawn cart. Apothecary, Ichtheus,
was one such fortunate attendee. Aided by his young apprentice, Oric, Ichtheus
sold herbal remedies and gave free advice to those in need. Some of his potions
worked, many did not. Bear baiting was popular, and the animals suffered
miserably. Where oh where was the RSPCA? Jesters cavorted, and countrywomen gossiped
in the village square, whilst their menfolk swilled liquor in the alehouse.
Brawls regularly broke out at the close of day. Not much change between the
centuries in this instance. Once a year, serfs of all ages were brought to
market and sold to the highest bidder like so much horseflesh. Pickpockets were rife, and moneylenders plied
their dubious profession at every available turn. Traders, on their way home
after the market closed, needed to be on the alert for cutthroats lying in wait
to steal the days’ takings.
If plunged back in
time, I can’t help wondering how our twenty-first-century population would cope,
and vice versa for the medieval folk. Which group do you suppose would handle
the drastic differences best? Perhaps scope for yet another book…
The
Oric Trilogy
By Lesley
Wilson
Yorkshire’s wild
moorland and rugged coastline provide a hauntingly beautiful backdrop for this
13th century, medieval adventure trilogy.
Brought up and
educated by an elderly alchemist, orphan boy Oric is content with his life. His
happy situation comes to an abrupt and devastating end when a band of marauders
sack his home. Oric returns to the manor after an early morning foraging
errand, to find the house on fire, the inhabitants dead, and his mentor, Master
Deveril, mortally wounded. The old man relinquishes a key, warning Oric that a terrible
a disaster will surely occur if the key falls into wrong hands. Deveril also
tells of great wealth, but he dies before he can impart any further
information.
Evil moneylender, Esica
Figg, is hiding behind a wall tapestry in the Great Hall. He hears the exchange
between Deveril and Oric and determines to seize the key, even if means killing
the boy to achieve his aim. Oric runs into the woods and Figg gives chase, but
soon loses his prey amongst the trees and dense undergrowth.
Oric is taken in
by Ichtheus, elderly apothecary to Sir Edred Lord of Bayersby. The old man sets Oric on as an apprentice, and
an hilarious, heart-warming rivalry develops between the pair. Friendship
between Oric and kitchen maid, Dian, turns into an uncomfortable love affair,
and Oric wonders if their strained relationship will ever be resolved. Things
are brought to a dramatic climax when Dian suddenly disappears.
So begins a
rip-roaring series of cat and mouse adventures as Oric seeks to discover the
true origins of his birth. Helped, but more often hindered by wolfhound,
Parsifal, and recalcitrant donkey, Braccus, Oric, Ichtheus, and Dian face many
life-threatening situations as they struggle to resolve the riddle of Deveril’s
mysterious key.
A cast of eccentric
characters, both good and evil, add charm, intrigue and fear to this medieval
adventure series for young adults and young at heart.
Excerpt
Across the street,
a gang of urchins squabbled under a horse-chestnut tree. Oric stopped to watch
the game they were playing with some fallen nuts. The noisiest member of the
group swaggered over and confronted Oric.
“What you looking
at?” the boy demanded.
Oric smiled
hopefully. “I was watching your game. Can I have a turn?”
The boy thrust his
face forward, his hot breath fanning Oric’s cheek. “Why should we let you join
in with our fun? Clear off, else I will give you a thrashing.” To back up his
threat the boy raised both fists and jabbed the air around Oric’s head.
“Give over, Ned,”
shouted one of the smaller urchins. “Let the lad, be.” Young Joe was no fool.
The newcomer worked for the apothecary. Most likely he would have money and
plenty of it. “What say I take you on for a copper coin,” he added, handing
Oric a shiny chestnut with a length of plaited horsehair threaded through a
hole in the nut’s centre. A similar brown nut dangled from Joe’s outstretched
hand. “On the count of three, make your strike.”
Oric wound the
horsehair around his finger. Holding the nut in his other hand, he lined up his
aim.
“One, two,
three!”
Oric swung the nut
down hard, smashing Joe’s target to pieces.
“Beginner’s luck,”
snarled Joe, threading horsehair through a new nut.
Oric proved a deft
hand at the game, with a strong and true aim. He trounced both urchins within a
few heartbeats. Poor losers, Ned and Joe turned ugly.
“We will fix you…
clever beggar.” Ned’s face was a mask of jealous menace.
Joe bared his
small, greenish teeth. “Aye, you had best watch your back from now on, Master
Clever Dick!”
Refusing to stump
up the money Oric had won, the boys sloped off.
Oric had no idea
that Ned and Joe were employed by Esica Figg as thieves, or that the unpleasant
encounter would be the first of many.
Pick
up your copy of
The Oric Trilogy
Lesley
Wilson
Lesley Wilson was born in North Yorkshire, UK and educated at St
Martin’s preparatory School in Grimsby, Lincolnshire, Mill Hill School, and
Pickering’s Commercial College, in Middlesbrough, Yorkshire. She completed a course
in Journalism with the London School of Writing and is an active member of a
writers’ group in Australia.
In 1957, she
met a young man on holiday in Italy. A whirlwind courtship followed before he
joined the British Army. Fifteen months and hundreds of letters later, Lesley,
aged seventeen, boarded a troop ship bound for Singapore where she married the
love of her life. She worked as a fashion model in Singapore for two years
before returning to the UK. A three-year posting to Germany with her husband
followed.
Returned to the UK after her
husband left the army, Lesly worked as Girl Friday for a well-known racing
driver/motor dealer. Looking for a change of career, she trained at Helena
Rubinstein’s London Salon, and worked thereafter as a consultant for five
years. Her other careers have included ownership of a sauna and health studio
and market research, which involved many miles of driving throughout N.
Yorkshire in all kinds of weather.
In 1982 she migrated to
Australia with her husband and small son. She ran a craft shop for several
years in which she manufactured all the items for sale. During this time, she
was also a volunteer in a Maritime Museum. Hunting wrecks off the coast of
North Queensland became an absorbing a hobby, and she helped to rescue an
ancient, decommissioned lighthouse for transportation to the city in which she
lives.
Today she is retired and
enjoys spending time with her grandchildren. She is also a member of an active
quilting group who involve themselves in charitable endeavours from time to
time. She reads and reviews books for other authors, but writing is her major
passion. When she isn’t glued to the computer keyboard she loves to travel,
entertain friends, and work in her large garden in N. Queensland.
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See you on your next coffee break!
Take Care,
Mary Anne xxx