The girl led an ox carrying sewn dresses, britches, shirts, fur-lined boots and hats, gloves for the coming winter, and a few knit scarves, and after a couple of hours travel in the pre-dawn gloom, she reached the city by morning, when the drawbridge lowered and the gates opened. Market day was busy for Hazel. Many people were looking for quality clothes and most of them did not make their own, for this was a rich city, and Hazel’s grandmother knew what would please the skilled workers and less-pompous lords’ children. She also knew which of her granddaughters to send, for Hazel could think quickly, turning a wandering eye into a sale and a loss into a gain. As the market day dwindled like the sun easing into the west, Hazel noticed two men watching her from across the crowded street. They smoked from crooked pipes and their filthy clothing didn’t appear to have been mended in months, yet they didn’t look the type to have the money for Hazel’s grandmother’s goods. Besides, she was almost sold out by then, which had never happened before, and her attention was soon taken by a lord’s baking woman who needed three little girls’ dresses for her daughters, but didn’t have the time to make them herself when there was some feast or another every other week.
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