As the baron made his way across to the gypsy entertainment, his son and foster-son saw him coming with his lady-wife, and immediately left for the woods, as discreetly as they could. Rough, dirty and unkempt as they were, both agreed that he might think he’d feel they’d taken his permission to be wild boys for the day a trifle or two too far.

Jehan the gypsy lad noticed them sidling out of range of the collection basket on its pole, and thought better of pursuing them with it. Instead, he concentrated on the well-fed, pleasant burghers in the front rows, sitting rapt with attention at Dai Storyteller’s version of Sir Gawain and the Black Dragon from the North, Skilfully, Dai took a break for a long draught of beer from his full tankard, and the burghers dug deeply into their money-belts to find loose change for the insistent money-basket under their noses, which whipped away, near-full, even as Dai came to the near-bottom of his tankard, and resumed the romance where he’d left off, with Sir Gawain getting permission from the cowardly lord of the dragon-lands to go after the fire-breathing beast who had the three maidens in his claws and was about to bend his neck and char all three of them, when…!

Baron Nigel arrived with his lady-wife, there was a pause in the story line while the peasant-burghers made room for him in the front row, and he settled himself, after his lady-wife, and sat back in the ermine-lined place of honor, for Dai to resume.

This time, of course, the lord of the dragon-lands was fighting nobly by the side of Arthur’s first knight, and together they slew the dragon and freed the lucky maids, who entwined themselves decorously around the hero – there were children present, Dai well knew - and all adjourned for a feast in the baronial hall of the lord of the dragon-lands, carrying along his fearsome, fire and smoke blackened head, leaving his evil, snaky body to be harried by the villagers as the regal procession made its way uphill to the castle.

But despite the broad hint, Sir Nigel arose, threw a small purse of golden coins to Dai Storyteller, bowing graciously in his direction thro the resounding applause, and left with his lady-wife, without inviting the gypsy storyteller and his wagon-train to accompany them for noon-day dinner at his castle on the hill.
His bailiff, however, who had enjoyed the rousing ale and spotted Dai’s broad hint easily, motioned to the leader of the gypsy wagon-train that they could pull their wagons to the side of the road leading from the village, and water their horses from the village well, staying overnight should it be of assistance to them in their travels. He even took it on himself – as bailiff/steward, he had the right – to hand up a small, coronet-bedecked shield to the wagon, which bore right-of-passage shields along its sides, nodding back to Dai as he did so. “A fine tale,” he smiled. “Such entertainment but rarely comes thro our small township!”

With this, James the Leader motioned to John Fighter to be content, and the gypsies settled in for the evening at the indicated place alongside the road, in the lay-by which permitted occasional wagon-traffic to pass, going uphill to the castle, and Jehan shook out the tribute-basket for his father to count his rewards, and to toss his swarthy son some coins to spend at the village market. The near-gypsy regal boys had disappeared into the woods long since, and the lads never came into contact with one another for that time.
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[This is part of the introduction to the prequel, “The Gypsy Boys,” to the novella, The Gypsy Knights, which takes the son and foster-son of the lord of the manor overseas, to France and Spain in the Hundred Years War which takes up much of that novella.] - john.mclaughlin4@verizon.net