Other contestants already had their produce laid out on canvas sheets with makeshift stools gathered around so they could smile and nod at those passing by. She tipped her hat to Farmer McBride who was the merriest of all the losers, but he boasted that his pumpkins tasted the finest and did a good trade with the bakers. He gave a jolly wave back, and she continued her winding path around the spectators. An unlikely player in the pumpkin game was the butcher’s wife, Rosaline, who waved as she went by looking as proud as punch over her considerable pumpkin. She usually placed somewhere in the top three every year.
Gretchen did a detour around Mildred’s set-up, which had vines and smaller pumpkins carved into smiling faces decorating the lawn. She did that every year. Winning just wasn’t enough, she had to do a song and dance about it. Checking over her shoulder to make sure she was clear, she scooted into the line of people who were admiring the baker's finest, with trays of public fare next to the fancier ones for the taste-test. She rummaged in her pouch for a few gold coins and loaded up with savory pies and sweet tarts. An accommodating ale cart stood at the end of the line, and Gretchen had her skin refilled before juggling the feast back to their setup.
She thought she’d gotten clear of Mildred’s view when the woman stepped in front of her with a smarmy smile.
“Gretchen. Thought you’d never arrive! And with such a grand entourage.” She swatted Gretchen’s arm with a snort. “You do know it’s the pumpkins that’s being judged today, hm?”
“Oh, the carriage?” Gretchen shrugged. “Rapunzel’s an old friend of mine. Couldn’t resist a good PR stunt. She figured attaching her brand to my winning entry would draw some press—”
Mildred doubled over clutching her belly as she chortled. “Oh, stop! You’ll give me the hiccups. I don’t know what I’d do without you here. Someone has to be the comic relief.” She patted Gretchen’s shoulder and wiped her eye with her sleeve. “Now, I’ve made plenty of pumpkin pies to celebrate my victory. Be sure to take a few extras for the road.” She pressed her lips together in a sympathetic pout. “I know how hard eking a living is for your sort.”
Turning her nose up, she caught the eye of someone behind Gretchen and elbowed past with an absent pat on the back. With teeth clenched and controlled breaths, Gretchen stormed back to the wagon and dropped her bundle beside Rapunzel. Peter followed soon after, and Rapunzel begged reprieve from her enraptured audience to turn toward the pair and eye the food greedily.
“I’m starved! Those people are unrelenting.”
“It’s not every day they meet a giant dressed as a wood nymph.” Gretchen bit into a pie and sagged.
“And what has you in such a foul temper? Coming to terms with the fact your ruse will not fool anyone?”
Like she could talk about foul tempers. Peter made off with his meal back toward the horses where he looked more comfortable. Rapunzel went straight for the tarts and stuffed them in her mouth as though they were bite sized pastries.
“Just one win, you know?” Gretchen sighed. “Just one year that I’m not laughed at. Is that too much to ask? I mean, it’s not as if pumpkins are the hardest thing to grow. I’ve got a whole garden full of medicinals. And if you ask me, keeping the caapi vine growing through a hard frost—”
“Tell me,” Rapunzel interjected. “What is the attraction, exactly? You’re a witch. Shouldn’t you be entering spell competitions or some such?”
Gretchen pressed her lips together and toyed with the wine skin cork, unsure how to answer the question.
“My Great Aunt Esme,” Gretchen cleared her throat. “Back in the day she used to take home the ribbon every year. From the same patch of dirt I grow mine in. I never was a keen gardener, but it became a matter of family pride. Particularly after Mildred came by with some sob story about her goat straying into the old mine. The last I ever saw of Aunt Esme was her flying off with a goat luring mix set to camp that night by the cave.”
“You blame your rival for doing away with your aunt?” Rapunzel snorted. “And here you are growing pumpkins instead of brewing hexes. You witches are a strange sort, you know.”
Gretchen groaned and shook her head. “I told you I’m no good with hexes. Knowing my luck, I’d bring her good fortune for years to come.”
They finished their meal in silence with Rapunzel grumbling under her breath about the size of her stomach, and Gretchen lying back swigging ale. Promising herself not to get inebriated before handling a razor, she corked the skin and passed a cursory eye over the crowd when she saw it. An unforgettable scalp.
Ewan was a long way from the city.
Chapter 5
“Lady luck!” Gretchen swung her legs to the grass. “I can see his eyebrows from here!”
Rapunzel screwed up her face, and Gretchen left her guessing as she burst off into the crowd. Ewan’s shop in the city faced out into the marketplace where other vendors erected their stalls each morning. It was the main reason he got around the market looking like he had a stick up his backside. He dealt in finely tooled leather items and boasted whenever he could about the contracts he had with the royal armory. It figured he’d need to source his leather somewhere, and Gretchen had never paid mind to the rows of makeshift pens that stank of
