Walter the Toyseller

Dong! Dong! goes the curfew bell. It is dawn, four weeks since Michaelmas in 1358, Anno Domini. I awaken, pull myself off the straw mattress, and get ready for market day. I grab a bulging frieze bag of my wares I will sell – toys. I gather some victuals for the morning meal, then walk out of the little hovel I call my home. Already the city of London is stirring. Carpenters, goldsmiths, and other craftsmen are opening their shops. Other merchants and peddlers, like me, Walter the Toyseller, make their way to the various markets in town. I make my way to my assigned spot in the marketplace, a sharp corner between two narrow, cobblestone streets. I arrange my wares on the table: dolls on my right, along with the puppets and woolen-stuffed animals. I place my game boards, like merles boards, and fox-and-geese sets, in the middle, so small parts won’t roll of the side. Ceramic figures and the costlier, but prettier, pewter figures are laid lying down. An hour after dawn, I am all set for business. Quite quickly, people start coming into the market. The morning is the time when most of the people come out, so I try to get as many as I can before the crowd begins to leave. The market is noisy, hectic, and smelly, with women haggling with produce sellers for cabbages, and young apprentices running errands for their masters, and the stinking open sewers that are all over the town. With all the noise, it is rather hard to advertise. I must raise my voice to the top of my lungs to be heard above the hustle and bustle. A father and his son pass by, and the son points at the ceramic goose figure. The father did not hear him and continues walking along. About ten minutes later, they return. The father gestures to the figure his son wants and we begin bargaining. Finally after fifteen minutes or so the man is satisfied with the price, pays the money, and gives the toy goose to his son. This process is repeated again and again. Now it is almost noon, and I had finished my victuals already. The curfew bells strikes again; signaling noon, and soon the crowds begins to return to their homes. Business grows steadily slower. Two hours later, the crowd is very thin, so I close shop and return to the cottage I am boarding in. Then I get some well-earned rest before I make more toys for tomorrow.