Eamon swallowed, wet his lips, and began to sing slowly, forcing the familiar words to roll off his tongue. He remained leaning against the wall, staring over the heads of the watchers.

Tá cailín álainn...a dtug mé grá dhi

Sí 's deis' is áille, ná bláth 's ná rós

Gan í ar láimh liom...is cloíte atá mé

Ó a chailín álainn, 's tú fáth mo bhróin...

Eamon's nerves had calmed and he was able to ignore the people watching him. Tadhg began to play the bodhrán, nodding encouragement to Eamon, who matched his singing to the beat Tadhg set.

A chailín álainn, a dtug mé grá duit

Ó bí ar láimh liom, mo mhíle stór

Ó abair liomsa, gur tú mo ghrá gheal

Beidh orm áthas, in áit an bhróin

Eamon glanced at the people that had gathered to watch. Some were focused on him and some were gazing at Tadhg and his bodhrán. Some mouthed the words as he sang them and some simply watched and listened.

Nuair a éirím, amach go huaigneach

Siúd é an uair, is mó mo bhrón

O bím ag smaointeamh, ar an chailín uasal

Atá i bhfad uaimse, mo chreach 's mo bhrón

Dá dtiocfá liomsa, a chailín álainn

Aríst go brách ní, bheadh orm brón

Sheinnfinn ceol duit, mar cheol na cláirsí

Nó ceol binn smóilín, 's an drúcht gheal cheo

Eamon finished the last verse of the song and Tadhg brought his drumming to an end at the same time. Again, the watchers rewarded their efforts with light applause.

"Eamon!" Tadhg hissed. "The hat!" Eamon jerked forward, the spell of his singing broken. He picked up the hat and walked through the watchers, holding out the hat. He tried to keep the look of surprise off his face when a few people dropped coins into the hat. "Thank you," he murmured, the words sticking in his throat.

Tadhg smiled encouragingly as Eamon returned to their spot in the road. His smile faded when he saw the look on Eamon's face. "Don't be thinking of it as charity, Eamon. Think of it as...a reward for our music."

"It's still charity." Eamon dropped the hat on the ground, causing the coins to clink together.

Tadhg sighed. "It's no wonder that you're poor, Eamon. Da takes money whenever he can get it."

"Aye? Well, I'm not your da." Eamon leaned against the wall. Tadhg raised an eyebrow and Eamon grimaced. "I didn't mean anything bad," he said hastily. "I just can't take charity."

"Then I'm guessing you'd be refusing me if I offered to buy you a drink?" Tadhg mused.

"That's different, is is!"

Tadhg chuckled. "Whatever you say, Eamon." He set the bodhrán aside and picked up a shawl, draping it around his shoulders.

"Tadhg, take that off!" Eamon frowned and reached for the shawl, but Tadhg pulled away.

"I'm helping you sell your shawls," Tadhg protested. He sat primly, letting the ends of the shawl hang at his sides.

Eamon scoffed and stepped back. "How do you think that's going to help?"

"Look." Tadhg nodded to the street, where several women were staring at Tadhg, whispering behind their hands. Two women stepped forward, trying to hide their smiles.

"That shawl wouldn't be for sale, now, would it?" One asked, playing with the front of her dress.

Tadhg glanced at Eamon, who stepped forward with a smile. "For two ladies such as yourselves, aye." He took the shawl from Tadhg, who grinned.

"I told you so," he whispered.

Eamon rolled his eyes and turned to the two women, stretching the shawl between his arms. "See the fine stitches? These were all done by firelight. There's not a stitch that's out of place."

"Aye, it does seem fine," the quieter woman murmured. "Too fine."

"Oh, no," Eamon said hastily. "Not too fine. Though the stitches are flawless, this is a shawl made for any woman."

Both women smiled. The first ran her fingers over the shawl and asked, "Could I try it on?"

"Of course." Eamon hid a grin as he handed the shawl to the woman.

She pulled it around her shoulders and drew herself up. Suddenly Eamon had to fight the urge to laugh. Whether she knew it or not, the woman was mimicking Tadhg's earlier pose. "How much?"

Eamon pursed his lips and said slowly, "For you? Five pence."

The younger, quieter woman gasped. "I knew it was too fine for me."

The older woman shushed her. "Five pence? You're daft. I'll give you two." She flicked the ends of the shawl with an air of finality.

Eamon raised his eyebrows, endeavoring to look affronted. "Two? You think a shawl this fine is only worth two pence?" He turned to the other woman. "Perhaps you're a better judge of quality than your companion."

The woman in the shawl huffed. "She most certainly is not! I'll give you three pence, young man."

"Three?" Eamon echoed, crossing his arms. "Consider the poor woman who made this shawl! Are you still thinking it's only worth three pence?"

"Four, then, and be done with it!" The woman pulled out four coins and pressed them into Eamon's hand. She flounced away, telling the younger woman in a low voice, "A shawl like this would have cost me near a shilling elsewhere!"

Eamon turned back to Tadhg. "I didn't think that would work, but it did."

Tadhg grinned. "I told you to thank me later, but I'll take it now." He stared up at Eamon expectantly.

Eamon scoffed. "Thank you," he said grudgingly. "Even though I'd have sold one without your help."

"One, maybe, but not much more." Tadhg leaned back on the crate, a smug smile on his face.

Taking a moment to formulate his reply, Eamon said, "Look who's talking. You haven't sold any of your baskets."

Tadhg sighed and closed his eyes, seeming unworried about his wares. "Just wait, Eamon. Before long, I'll have sold all my baskets and you'll be left with your shawls."

"We'll see about that," Eamon said lightly. As the words left his mouth, a boy about ten years younger than Eamon and Tadhg approached the baskets.

Tadhg leaned forward. "You wouldn't be needing a basket, would you?"

The boy shook his head and Tadhg frowned. Eamon started to smile, but stopped when the boy opened his mouth. "My mother needs a basket."

Tadhg tossed his head and gave Eamon a smug look before answering the boy. "What does she want a basket for? Herbs? This one's perfect for herbs." Tadhg held up a small basket that fit perfectly in his cupped hands.

The boy cocked his head to one side, then nodded. "Herbs is fine," he said laconically. "Two pence for the basket?"

"Aye, two pence is sufficient," Tadhg replied, placing the basket in the boy's hand and taking the offered pennies. The boy walked away, leaving Eamon staring after him.

"Did you set that up?" Eamon asked suspiciously.

Tadhg scoffed. "Have you lost your mind? Of course I didn't!" His eyes lit with merriment as he stared up at Eamon. "Let's make a wager...the man with the most money at the end of the day buys the other a drink. Or several drinks."

"Agreed," Eamon smirked, calculating in his head. Tadhg had more baskets than Eamon had shawls, but Tadhg's baskets sold more cheaply than Eamon's shawls. Eamon gave up and shook his head. I can win - or lose, rather.

***

Translation of the song Eamon sings:

There's a beautiful girl whom I gave my love
She is kinder and lovelier than a flower or rose
Without her hand in mine, I'm weak
O beautiful girl, you're the cause of my grief

Chorus:
O beautiful girl whom I gave my love
Give me your hand, my dearest one
Tell me that you're my bright love
And there will be happiness upon me instead of sorrow

When I rise, lonely
That is the time my sorrow is greatest
I think of the precious girl
Who is far from me, my ruin and my grief

If you came to me, beautiful girl
Ever again, I wouldn't be sad
I would play music for you like music of the harp
Or the sweet song of the thrush in the fog's bright dew