Where beautiful maidens, with priests old and wise,
Sing songs or chant prayers 'neath forgotten blue skies.
Have your eyes not beheld them, then hark to my song,
And your heart will be there, in sweet dreams before long.'
Gradually a few people gathered. One of them was an old fellow pushing a cart on which he
had a churn of buttermilk, a ladle and some earthenware bowls. When Karay finished her
song, he applauded loudly, calling out, 'What a fine voice! Sing some more, young maid!'
The girl held out her hand to him. 'Let me get my breath, sir. Come on up here and get your
likeness sketched by a real artist. We won't charge you much!'
The old fellow chuckled, shaking his head. 'No thank ye, miss, I haven't got money to spend
on pictures. Besides, who'd want to sketch a battered old relic like me, eh?'
Ben coaxed the old man up and sat him on the top step, facing Dominic, and reassured the
reluctant sitter. 'We're not talking money, sir. A bowl apiece of your buttermilk to quench our
thirst would be enough. My friend is a good artist, you'll like his picture, I'm sure. Don't be
shy. Here, I'll let my dog sit with you, he's a good companion.'
Some of the watchers called out encouragement to the old fellow, and he finally agreed to be
sketched. 'Go on then, it'll give my wife something to throw mud at when she's angry with
me!'
Dominic captured the spirit of the old buttermilk vendor amazingly. More folk had gathered to
watch, and they viewed the likeness with astonishment.
'Oh it's wonderful, what a nice picture!'
'Aye, very lifelike. He's even drawn that black dog, with its paw on his knee, see!'
'Doesn't the old man's face look kind and jolly!'
Ned watched them admiring the picture as he contacted Ben. 'A true artist, eh? He's made me
look even nobler on that sketch, and see the old man's eyes. Every crinkle and crease is
perfect. You can see by looking at them that he's a cheery old codger with a good nature.
Right, who's next to have their picture sketched—with the noble Ned, of course. I'm getting
used to being famous!'
Ben tugged his dog's tail. 'Stop boasting and drink your buttermilk, the man's waiting on his
bowls. Though he'll have to wash that one before he serves buttermilk in it again.'
The black Labrador sniffed. 'I should think so too. Peasants using the personal bowl of Ned
the Noble!'
Men and women began clamouring to have their pictures sketched next, even holding out
coins in their hands. Karay nudged Ben. 'Haha, we're in business now!'
Dominic looked around before choosing his next subject. He guided a young woman carrying
a baby boy up to the step. She was obviously poor—her clothing was worn and frayed— but
her baby looked clean and healthy.
The woman tried to avoid Dominic, her cheeks red with embarrassment as she pleaded with
him. 'Please, sir, I have barely enough money to feed my baby. I cannot afford your cost!'
The Facemaker of Sabada spoke gently to her. 'There will be no cost, lady. For the privilege
of sketching you both, I cannot pay you. But I will give you two pancakes, one for you and
one for the babe. Hold him on your lap now, sit still and face me please.'
Slumping down on the steps beside Ben, Karay heaved a sigh of resignation. 'Two customers,
no, three, if you count the baby, and what have we earned so far? A bowl of buttermilk
apiece! Why don't we go and seek out some beggars, perhaps this facemaker'd like to sketch
them free! Maybe we could give them the clothes off our backs for allowing us to do them the
favour. Fools, that's what we are!'
Ben was not pleased with the girl's callous attitude. 'Oh, stop grizzling, there's nothing wrong
in helping people a little. There are other things in this life besides money. Where would you
be if I hadn't helped you when you were chained to a cartwheel?'
Karay was about to make a sharp retort when they were interrupted by a richly clad lady,
mounted sidesaddle on a chestnut mare. Her voice was loud and imperious. 'Tell that boy he
can sketch me next!'
Ned growled menacingly as she spurred the horse forward. The chestnut reared, but the lady
brought it forcefully under control. She wagged her quirt at Ben. 'Tie that dog up, or I'll have
it destroyed!'
The boy took hold of the Labrador's collar. 'I'm sorry, marm, Ned thought your horse was
going to trample us.'
He ignored Ned's indignant thoughts. 'Pompous baggage. Both she and her horse could do
with a lesson in manners!'
The lady was pointing at Dominic with her leather quirt. 'Finish that picture quickly, I don't
have all day to sit here waiting whilst you mess about with peasants!'
The facemaker continued sketching, though his eyes were hot and angry as he flicked them up
at the mounted lady. 'Then be on your way, marm, because I don't intend making a likeness
of you!'
The young woman with the baby started to rise, but Dominic beckoned her to stay put. 'Sit
still, I'm almost done.'
The onlookers had to scatter as the lady wheeled her horse about and rode off, glaring hatred
at Dominic.
Ned broke free of Ben's hold and chased after the horse, barking furiously, causing the animal
to break into a gallop. The lady was forced to hold on to her ornate hat as she bounced up and
down awkwardly. Stall holders laughed and jeered at her ungracious exit, some even cheering
Ned as he made his way back to Ben's side.
Dominic held up the slate containing the picture of the young woman and her baby, amid
gasps of admiration from everyone around. There was beauty and honesty in the woman's
face, and love for her child. Happy innocence and trust shone from the babe's eyes—it was a
perfectly beautiful likeness. He passed it over to the blushing mother, together with the food
he had promised her. She curtsied deeply, stammering her thanks.
'My husband will be pleased to see this hanging over our fireplace. Thank you, thank you
very much, sir!'
Dominic bowed and smiled at her. 'Tell him that I said he's a lucky man to have such a pretty
wife and baby.'
Shortly after the mother and child's departure, Dominic had just started to portray a fat, jolly
housewife when a commotion arose between the stalls. He looked up from his work. 'What's
all the noise about?'
Karay climbed one of the gateposts of the big manor house. 'I think we're about to find out.
Here comes trouble! It's the guards and that toffee-nosed lady you turned away.'
Dominic began gathering his materials. Ben stayed seated. 'No use running, mate, let's stick
together and see what they've got to say. We haven't harmed anybody or stolen anything.' He
looked pointedly at Karay. 'Have we?'
Climbing down from the gatepost, she joined him. 'What are you lookin' at me like that for? I
haven't lifted anything. You're right, we'll stick together!'
Ned looked imploringly at Ben. 'I wish you'd said we should run for it. I'm guilty of
disturbing a horse!'
The mounted lady, both guards from the gate and a guard captain strode up the steps,
dispersing any curious onlookers before them. Dominic forestalled the captain by addressing
him. 'My friends and I haven't done any wrong. I refused to sketch this lady because I am
free to choose whom I draw!'
Ned's thought crossed Ben's mind. 'I don't blame Dominic. Just look at the frosty-faced
