‘That’s thirsty work,’ he said kindly. ‘Would you like a mug of small beer?’

‘What for?’ I asked.

‘You’re working well, I enjoyed watching you,’ he said. He got to his feet and went inside his wagon, his fair head brushing the top of the doorway. He came out with two small pewter mugs of ale, and stepped down carefully from the step, his eyes on the mugs. He came towards me with one outstretched. I got to my feet and eyed him, but I did not put out my hand for the drink though I was parched and longing for the taste of the cool beer on my tongue and throat.

‘What d’you want?’ I asked, my eyes on the mug.

‘Maybe I want to buy the horse,’ he said. ‘Go on, take it. I won’t bite.’

That brought my eyes to his face. ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ I said defiantly. I looked down longingly at the drink again. ‘I’ve no money to buy it,’ I said.

‘It’s for free!’ he said impatiently. ‘Take it, you silly wench.’

‘Thank you,’ I said gruffly and took it from his hand. The liquid was malty on my tongue and went down my throat in a delicious cool stream. I gulped three times and then paused, to make it last the longer.

‘Are you in the horse business?’ he asked.

‘You’d best ask my da,’ I said.

He smiled at my caution and sat down on the grass at my feet. After a little hesitation, I sat too.

‘That’s my wagon,’ he said pointing to the caravan. ‘See that on the side? Robert Gower? That’s me. Robert Gower’s Amazing Equestrian Show! That’s me and my business. All sorts I do. Dancing ponies, fortune-telling ponies, acrobatic horses, trick-riding, cavalry charges. And the story of Richard the Lionheart and Saladin, in costume, and with two stallions.’

I gaped at him. ‘How many horses have you got?’ I asked.

‘Five,’ he said. ‘And the stallion.’

‘I thought you said two stallions,’ I queried.

‘It looks like two,’ he said, unabashed. ‘Richard the Lionheart rides the grey stallion. Then we black him up and he is Saladin’s mighty ebony steed. I black-up too, to be Saladin. So what?’

‘Nothing!’ I said hastily. ‘Are these your horses?’

‘Aye,’ he said gesturing at the ponies I had noticed earlier. ‘These four ponies, and the skewbald which pulls the wagon and works as a rosinback. My boy’s riding the stallion around the town, crying-up the show. We’re giving a show in the next-door field. Two performances at three and seven. Today and Every Day. By Public Demand. For the Duration.’

I said nothing. Many of the words I did not understand. But I recognized the ring of the showground barker.

‘You like horses,’ he said.