cart loaded with pumpkins rumbled into the archway.
The town marketplace was a haven. It was crowded with peasants; men, women and children with their livestock and produce. Every farmer in the Republic had to sell at least three-quarters of what he produced to the state, at fixed prices which were ruinous. The other quarter, plus whatever he dared to hold back out of the state’s three-quarters, was his to dispose of on the free market at any price he could get, and spend the money as he liked. No peasant voluntarily missed a market day and its opportunities for buying as well as for selling.
There were two loudspeakers over the marketplace, roaring from the twin minarets of a good-sized mosque. In what had once been the mosque courtyard, the flowing fountain for ritual washing of hands, forearms, feet and face before prayers now served as a drinking trough for goats, sheep, pigs, turkeys, cows, horses and human beings. The courtyard was full of the overflow from the marketplace, all the livestock adding their bleats, baas, grunts, moos, gobbles, and whinnies to the sound of their owners’ voices haggling over prices and the rumble of the speakers.
Our goats went straight for the fountain. When they had drunk what they could hold, I worked them through the crowd over to a corner of the courtyard where there was a pile of straw in the shade of the mosque wall. The pile was big enough to serve as goat fodder; at the same time it gave us a place to sit down.
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t sleep for a while, if you can manage it in this din,” I said. “We’ve got several hours before we have to move along.”
“What about you?”
“I want to keep an eye open for possible goat buyers.”
“Can’t we do it in turn?”
“Sure. I’ll wake you when your turn comes.”
She curled down in the straw and was asleep in seconds. I tied the wether’s makeshift lead-rope to my ankle, then wrapped my arms around my knees and locked my hands together so that if I dozed off my grip would loosen and I would fall over and wake myself up. After that I sat and waited, falling over now and then.
I couldn’t wander around shouting my wares, as others were doing. Although Cora and I both spoke the language well enough, no one acquires the authentic Slavic click unless he is born to it. Our accents would have given us away. But anything on display in a town marketplace is for sale, so I could sit there and look receptive to offers whenever some peasant stopped to feel the ewes’ udders.
That usually ended the deal before it started. The goats had been driven too hard. Their milk was about finished. I finally got a bid, for one ewe, from a tall, broad man with a scraggly black beard. He looked like a pirate and traded like one. He walked by, hesitated, scowled at me, scowled at Cora asleep in the straw, scowled at the goats, made his examination of their udders, and offered a price that was probably half of what a ewe, even a dry one, was worth.
I shook my head. When he shrugged and started to move along, I shrugged and held out my hand. He paid me and led the ewe away by an ear. She bleated unhappily about leaving her sisters, who had bedded down in a clump around Cora and were contentedly munching straw.
It took me the better part of an hour to sell the one ewe. At the rate I was going and the price I was getting, we had no hope of converting the goats into what we needed to take their place. But at least I had enough money to do some necessary shopping. I tied the wether to Cora’s ankle – she didn’t move even when I lifted her foot – and went away for half an hour.
She still hadn’t changed her position when I came back with a pack made up of what I had bought; two good blankets, a pail, a heavy knife, homespun socks for both of us, a couple of tin cups, a couple of big spoons, food, salt, matches, and a handful of loose cigarettes I had bought by ones and
The town marketplace was a haven. It was crowded with peasants; men, women and children with their livestock and produce. Every farmer in the Republic had to sell at least three-quarters of what he produced to the state, at fixed prices which were ruinous. The other quarter, plus whatever he dared to hold back out of the state’s three-quarters, was his to dispose of on the free market at any price he could get, and spend the money as he liked. No peasant voluntarily missed a market day and its opportunities for buying as well as for selling.
There were two loudspeakers over the marketplace, roaring from the twin minarets of a good-sized mosque. In what had once been the mosque courtyard, the flowing fountain for ritual washing of hands, forearms, feet and face before prayers now served as a drinking trough for goats, sheep, pigs, turkeys, cows, horses and human beings. The courtyard was full of the overflow from the marketplace, all the livestock adding their bleats, baas, grunts, moos, gobbles, and whinnies to the sound of their owners’ voices haggling over prices and the rumble of the speakers.
Our goats went straight for the fountain. When they had drunk what they could hold, I worked them through the crowd over to a corner of the courtyard where there was a pile of straw in the shade of the mosque wall. The pile was big enough to serve as goat fodder; at the same time it gave us a place to sit down.
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t sleep for a while, if you can manage it in this din,” I said. “We’ve got several hours before we have to move along.”
“What about you?”
“I want to keep an eye open for possible goat buyers.”
“Can’t we do it in turn?”
“Sure. I’ll wake you when your turn comes.”
She curled down in the straw and was asleep in seconds. I tied the wether’s makeshift lead-rope to my ankle, then wrapped my arms around my knees and locked my hands together so that if I dozed off my grip would loosen and I would fall over and wake myself up. After that I sat and waited, falling over now and then.
I couldn’t wander around shouting my wares, as others were doing. Although Cora and I both spoke the language well enough, no one acquires the authentic Slavic click unless he is born to it. Our accents would have given us away. But anything on display in a town marketplace is for sale, so I could sit there and look receptive to offers whenever some peasant stopped to feel the ewes’ udders.
That usually ended the deal before it started. The goats had been driven too hard. Their milk was about finished. I finally got a bid, for one ewe, from a tall, broad man with a scraggly black beard. He looked like a pirate and traded like one. He walked by, hesitated, scowled at me, scowled at Cora asleep in the straw, scowled at the goats, made his examination of their udders, and offered a price that was probably half of what a ewe, even a dry one, was worth.
I shook my head. When he shrugged and started to move along, I shrugged and held out my hand. He paid me and led the ewe away by an ear. She bleated unhappily about leaving her sisters, who had bedded down in a clump around Cora and were contentedly munching straw.
It took me the better part of an hour to sell the one ewe. At the rate I was going and the price I was getting, we had no hope of converting the goats into what we needed to take their place. But at least I had enough money to do some necessary shopping. I tied the wether to Cora’s ankle – she didn’t move even when I lifted her foot – and went away for half an hour.
She still hadn’t changed her position when I came back with a pack made up of what I had bought; two good blankets, a pail, a heavy knife, homespun socks for both of us, a couple of tin cups, a couple of big spoons, food, salt, matches, and a handful of loose cigarettes I had bought by ones and
Similar Books
