Snake Oil.

The stall run by the magicians is on the ground floor. A thin man with black hair and a pen stroke moustache ducked into the back before we could ask questions. It wasn’t at all clear what they claim to sell, but they have shelves of bottles filled with familiar looking liquids. A short, bald man came out to see us. He looked as if he’d been boiled clean, and he began by asking what ailed me: -
“Is it love you lack? The girl you want doesn’t notice you. No? Then perhaps it’s physical prowess? A little muscular advantage? We have a four week or a ten week course. No?”

The others were hanging back, so their potential inadequacies were not explored, but before he could get on to my big feet, the curly haired stranger from Monday moved out from behind the back and whispered to the salesman. The salesman looked at me, and then behind me to Samuel.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Nicholas Graham.” He began to put the proffered bottles away again. “Don’t mind these. I expect you know from your own experience that they went the way of everything. And yet we’ve had some remarkable results!”
“You’re selling old potions.”
“And at a profit.” He chuckled. “I may stop here and carry on.”
“After what?” Angela asked.
“Well,” said the bald man. The magicians Norman had followed before were suddenly at the corners of the aisles, watching us. “Well, what is it you’ve come to see us about?”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“You know why. I believe you’ve even been to see some of the old castle yourself.”
“But why here? There’s better castles, older castles.”
“Bigger castles,” admitted the bald man. He looked at me for a long time, and then carefully around at how far the others were from us. “We live in a time of promises, don’t you find? So do you seek out small promises that you’re sure can be kept, or do you find one big wish and tie all you faith to it?”
“One big wish.” I said, because it seemed the thing.
“A long time ago, a long time ago, a great man came North to escape the Roman’s and their persecution of the Druids at Anglesey. He settled here, and he minded himself. But one day, after centuries, the affairs of men caught him up in their ways and their worries. Couldn’t mind himself any longer. Became advisor to Lord Waltheof of Hallam, and got him killed. A sorry affair. But the fact remains, and well your father knew it, that the most powerful man whoever lived, lived here, on the site of the first Manor House of Hallamshire.”

I asked to stay, as did we all in turn, but we were turned away. It wasn’t down to them, Graham explained, but they would ask if we came back tomorrow.