how he would play this game.
“Continue,” Larcher said in a lowered voice.
“Why not offer them the opportunity to purchase a badge to remind them of their vow and give them comfort when they cannot do as they had hoped?”
“Walsingham badges in Norwich?”
“Is Walsingham not a famous site? Is it not close to Norwich? Aye, we have the shrine of Saint William, but Walsingham draws far more despite that.” Durant shrugged. “Were I to suggest sales of your badges in London, I would not see a profit. London owns too many saints and has many great shrines of its own.” He raised his hands to suggest the multitude of sites. “Saint Edward the Confessor is just one.”
Gracia twisted a little so she could see the expression on Master Larcher’s face.
He was enthusiastically scratching at the stubble on his chin.
She leaned back. She had seen Larcher do that before. It meant he smelled the chance for profit. The man from Norwich was winning his argument.
Durant poured more of the deep red wine into the craftsman’s mazer, then a splash into his own. “Of course, I would act as your agent in Norwich. A small fee per badge sold would be sufficient. You are the craftsman and thus due the higher percentage.”
“You interest me, Durant of Norwich.”
“King Edward, as I have heard, plans to visit here soon. His father honored this site with many gifts. His son will surely do the same.” Again he waited for a response.
Larcher grunted.
“Many would love to combine a pilgrimage with the chance to see King Edward, crusader and man of proven faith. If the badges were sold in Norwich, many might buy them in the passion of their desire, even if they later found they could not fulfill that wish. At least they would have the memento.” He chuckled. “As we both know, tales are often told of things that never happened, yet the badge suggests a truth.”
This time the grunt was warmer.
“You would lose nothing. Any unsold badges will be returned to you, and these could be purchased here as always. Let us say that you should receive three-quarters of the profit and I a quarter. I have a booth, and I would happily take them back to Norwich with me when I leave.” He waited. “You would receive an agreed-upon surety lest I fail to return the unsold.”
Larcher began to blink, as if he had just awakened from a dream, and cleared his throat. “You said that more would be sold before the king visits, but do you know when he will arrive in Walsingham?” He looked down at his mazer and gulped the remainder of the wine. “I do not.”
“Surely you must. Are you not resident here? I have heard only rumors.”
Gracia was surprised to see the Norwich man frown. Was he not close to gaining his wish? What difference did it make if the king’s exact arrival date was unknown?
“I fear you have come at the wrong time, Master Durant.” The craftsman’s voice trembled. “I have no news at all.”
Pushing his barely touched mazer aside, Durant rose. “Then I leave you. I shall remain here a few days as I came to visit the wells and Holy House. Should you learn more about the king’s proposed visit, leave a message with the innkeeper. When you do, we shall meet to discuss our proposed arrangement further at a place convenient to us both. As you must understand, any agreement depends upon how quickly you learn the date.”
Gracia crawled back to her usual spot. She had sensed tension between the men when the issue of the king’s arrival was mentioned. She was accustomed to overhearing merchants making deals, and the language used between the Norwich man and Larcher was familiar, but she felt uncomfortable as well as curious about what she had witnessed. Had this discussion been solely about badges, or was something else involved?
Bowing her head to suggest sleep, she opened her eyelids just enough to watch the wine merchant leave the inn. A swift glance as he passed by told her that his expression was devoid of
“Continue,” Larcher said in a lowered voice.
“Why not offer them the opportunity to purchase a badge to remind them of their vow and give them comfort when they cannot do as they had hoped?”
“Walsingham badges in Norwich?”
“Is Walsingham not a famous site? Is it not close to Norwich? Aye, we have the shrine of Saint William, but Walsingham draws far more despite that.” Durant shrugged. “Were I to suggest sales of your badges in London, I would not see a profit. London owns too many saints and has many great shrines of its own.” He raised his hands to suggest the multitude of sites. “Saint Edward the Confessor is just one.”
Gracia twisted a little so she could see the expression on Master Larcher’s face.
He was enthusiastically scratching at the stubble on his chin.
She leaned back. She had seen Larcher do that before. It meant he smelled the chance for profit. The man from Norwich was winning his argument.
Durant poured more of the deep red wine into the craftsman’s mazer, then a splash into his own. “Of course, I would act as your agent in Norwich. A small fee per badge sold would be sufficient. You are the craftsman and thus due the higher percentage.”
“You interest me, Durant of Norwich.”
“King Edward, as I have heard, plans to visit here soon. His father honored this site with many gifts. His son will surely do the same.” Again he waited for a response.
Larcher grunted.
“Many would love to combine a pilgrimage with the chance to see King Edward, crusader and man of proven faith. If the badges were sold in Norwich, many might buy them in the passion of their desire, even if they later found they could not fulfill that wish. At least they would have the memento.” He chuckled. “As we both know, tales are often told of things that never happened, yet the badge suggests a truth.”
This time the grunt was warmer.
“You would lose nothing. Any unsold badges will be returned to you, and these could be purchased here as always. Let us say that you should receive three-quarters of the profit and I a quarter. I have a booth, and I would happily take them back to Norwich with me when I leave.” He waited. “You would receive an agreed-upon surety lest I fail to return the unsold.”
Larcher began to blink, as if he had just awakened from a dream, and cleared his throat. “You said that more would be sold before the king visits, but do you know when he will arrive in Walsingham?” He looked down at his mazer and gulped the remainder of the wine. “I do not.”
“Surely you must. Are you not resident here? I have heard only rumors.”
Gracia was surprised to see the Norwich man frown. Was he not close to gaining his wish? What difference did it make if the king’s exact arrival date was unknown?
“I fear you have come at the wrong time, Master Durant.” The craftsman’s voice trembled. “I have no news at all.”
Pushing his barely touched mazer aside, Durant rose. “Then I leave you. I shall remain here a few days as I came to visit the wells and Holy House. Should you learn more about the king’s proposed visit, leave a message with the innkeeper. When you do, we shall meet to discuss our proposed arrangement further at a place convenient to us both. As you must understand, any agreement depends upon how quickly you learn the date.”
Gracia crawled back to her usual spot. She had sensed tension between the men when the issue of the king’s arrival was mentioned. She was accustomed to overhearing merchants making deals, and the language used between the Norwich man and Larcher was familiar, but she felt uncomfortable as well as curious about what she had witnessed. Had this discussion been solely about badges, or was something else involved?
Bowing her head to suggest sleep, she opened her eyelids just enough to watch the wine merchant leave the inn. A swift glance as he passed by told her that his expression was devoid of
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