by Mark McCabe
The second, grandly named ‘The King’s Knight’ despite the somewhat shabby appearance of its exterior, was one Rayne said he might have considered if he had been by himself. He declared he had no intention however of asking Sara to stay there, regardless of her earlier pronouncement that anything with a soft bed would be fine by her.
Once more she tended to agree. She didn’t like the surreptitious glances she received from a number of the drinkers in the downstairs bar when they went in to discuss prices with the innkeeper, a wiry little man with a mottled face and a nervous tic in one cheek. They both felt unnerved by the distinct lull in the level of background noise that began with their entry and continued right up to their exit some minutes later.
The third inn looked much more homely and even its name sounded warm and inviting. ‘The Spreading Fig’ the sign declared from beneath an artist’s rendition of a large tree that seemed to loom over a two-storied house that clearly represented the inn itself, though if there really was such a tree Sara could see no sign of it in the dark of the night.
As soon as they entered the building, they both realised they had found a place for the night. The downstairs room, though crowded and smoky, exhibited none of the boisterousness of the previous two establishments. Nor did their entry draw more than the occasional glance from a few of the patrons. The vibrant chatter of the place, interspersed with occasional laughter and the clinking of glasses, seemed not to miss a beat as they made their way from the door to the bar through a sea of red-faced though good-humoured strangers.
When Rayne asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter for a room for him and his sister, the ‘oh yes’ she gave them with a glance towards Sara suggested she wasn’t at all taken in by his story. If she did wonder what their real status was, though, it seemed not to bother her much. She couldn’t have been friendlier it seemed to Sara, who warmed to her right from the start.
“Call me Mrs Forrodeer,” she said with a broad grin once Rayne had negotiated a price. “Anything you want you just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.” With that, she called for one of the serving girls to show them to their room.
In response to her summons, a young girl bobbed up from out of the crowd with her arms full of empty beer tankards. She looked barely thirteen if she was a day to Sara, but was handling the tankards as if she had been doing it all of her life. Once she had safely deposited her load on the broad wooden top of the bar, she turned to the two travellers and gave them a small curtsy.
“Take these two good folk up to chamber number six, Alys, there’s a good girl,” directed Mrs Forrodeer.
“Yes, Miss. Follow me, please,” replied the girl in a bright voice.
The girl then proceeded to lead them across the room and up the staircase that hugged its rear wall. From the top of the stairs, a corridor led them past a number of doors to their own room, a small chamber with two beds, a dressing table, two chairs and a small window that looked out over the courtyard at the rear of the inn. Through the window Sara could make out the twisting branches of a large tree, the fig, she concluded, that the inn was named for.
While Rayne went off to make arrangements for the stabling of the horses and for their gear to be brought upstairs, Sara took a seat in a corner of the room and watched as the girl put fresh covering on the two single beds. The soft beds looked very inviting after the weeks she had spent sleeping on the hard ground.
Before the girl was done, Mrs Forrodeer turned up. She was carrying two large, earthen pitchers, one with hot water, she announced, and one with cold. Both were placed on the small dressing table between the beds.
“Hurry up there now, Alys,” whispered Mrs Forrodeer in a quick aside to the girl before she turned to speak with Sara. “Now, young miss,” she said, fixing Sara with a matronly glare. “If you and your . . . brother . . . are hungry I’ve some soup still warm. I’ve some lovely fresh bread to go with it, too, baked this very afternoon by my own hand. We’ve a small room off the scullery where you can eat in private if you’ve a mind. And if you don’t mind me saying, it’d do you the world of good. You do look a bit pale. You aren’t with child are you, my dear?”
Sara felt herself blush furiously at the woman’s question. She knew Mrs Forrodeer was scrutinising her intently, waiting to cast judgement on her response, and out of a corner of her eye she could see the young servant girl discreetly watching her while pretending to busy herself with the beds. “No,” she replied, a little tremulously. “We’ve been on the road for some time and I’m, I’m just very tired. I think some soup would be most welcome, though, thank you very much. I’m sure Rayne will agree too.”
“That’s good then. You’re far too young for that sort of business. I’m sorry if I was direct, my dear, but there’s no use hiding such things. Some girls in that sort of situation try to and it doesn’t do anyone no good. Your young man looks like a nice enough young boy, but I’m the Queen if he’s your brother. That’s all right by me though, dear. You just make sure he looks after you. There. I’ve said my piece and that’s the end of it. Don’t mind me, my dear. I’m always sticking my nose in where it don’t belong. I don’t mean anything by it. Just wanted to make sure you were all right. Once you’ve settled in you come down and see me or one of my girls if you’ve a mind to. A good supper’s what you need.” With that, the old lady bustled away, leaving Sara alone with the serving girl once more.
“Will that be all, Miss?” asked the girl in a small voice once Mrs Forrodeer had left.
Sara, who had been staring out the window when she had spoken, thinking about the ease with which the woman had seen through Rayne’s story, looked up in surprise to see the girl standing beside the open door waiting for her answer.
“Ummmm. Yes. No, wait.” Rayne had given her several coins earlier in the afternoon. He had said it might be useful for her to have some money on her now they were among other people. She had slipped them into the pocket of her breeches and hadn’t thought of them again till now.
“Is it the custom for me to give you a coin for making up the room?”
“If it pleases you, Miss,” answered the girl, blushing slightly and keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor at her feet as she spoke.
Sara reached into her pocket and drew forth the coins. Looking down at the small collection of copper and silver pieces in her hand, she realised she had no idea of their worth. Rayne had said something to her about them but she hadn’t been paying attention. Not wanting to insult the girl, she took two of the small silver ones and dropped them into her outstretched hand; the coppers seemed to be too small to be worth much at all.
The small gasp from the girl and the widening of her eyes signalled instantly to Sara that she had given her too much. “Why thank you Miss,” gasped Alys, clutching her hand tightly around her windfall. “Thank you sooo much, Miss.” With that, she gave a little curtsy and turned and rushed out of the room.
When Rayne returned a short while later, Sara saw no need to bother him with her mistake; it was no big deal after all. She did make a mental note, however, to find out from him as soon as possible some idea of the value of things here in Ilythia. For all she knew, she had given the girl a month’s wages with those two coins.
She also didn’t mention Mrs Forrodeer’s suggestion that she might be pregnant, though she did apprise him of her offer of supper. As neither of them had eaten since their lunch by the bridge, they quickly washed the dust and grime from their face and hands and headed back downstairs in search of the scullery. They were both heartily sick of travel rations and the prospect of a cooked meal was too good a one to refuse.
When they reached the bottom of the staircase they began to cast their eyes around in search of either Mrs Forrodeer or the way to the scullery. The mass of people in the common room hadn’t lessened while they had been upstairs. If anything, it was even more crowded now than it had been when they had arrived, and they could see no sign of either her or her staff among the press of people. Sa
ra was wondering how a small inn could manage to attract so many customers when it suddenly dawned on her. There was no television here, no movie theatres, no malls. This was probably it as far as ‘nightlife’ went in Novistor. If you didn’t go to the local inn, then you probably stayed at home.
Sara could feel her apprehension rising as the two of them began to make their way through the throng of people between the staircase and the bar. The close proximity of so many strangers in such a small space after all of the time they had spent virtually alone in the wilderness unsettled her so much she was about to suggest to Rayne they go without their supper. Just at that moment, Alys suddenly appeared, popping out from between a group of men right in front of them with an infectious grin on her face that instantly dispersed Sara’s anxiety.
“This way please . . . Miss, Sir,” she said, leading them through the crowd to the other side of the common room. It was as if the Red Sea had parted in front of them, thought Sara. As Alys led the way, a path seemed to open up before her. A gentle nudge, an ‘excuse me, Sir’, or a slight push with the shoulder was all that was needed and they were through and out the other side before they could blink. The door she then opened led them into a small but thankfully quiet room.
Seating them at one end of a long refectory table, Alys disappeared through another door, allowing them a brief glimpse of the scullery beyond. A few minutes later and she was back with two large bowls of the promised ‘home-cooked’ soup. While they fell to their meal with a gusto borne of days on end with not enough to eat, she kept darting in and out, attending to their needs, bringing fresh bread to go with the soup and a large tankard of ale for each of them, and generally ensuring that they had all that they wanted.
The soup itself was not only still warm, as Mrs Forrodeer had promised, but delicious. Sara had no idea what it was, and what’s more, she didn’t care. It was hearty and tasty and it went down easily, as did the soft chunks of warm, fresh bread, dripping with butter. By the time they were finished, Sara, for the first time in weeks, felt as if she’d eaten enough.
“I think I’ve had an elegant sufficiency,” she said to Rayne, leaning back in her chair with her hand on her stomach. “In fact, any more would be a superfluity.” It was a favourite bit of nonsense her family was fond of and it drew the reaction she expected.
“You’re what?”
“I’m full,” said Sara with a smile, resisting the urge to burp.
While Alys cleared their plates away, Rayne finished his ale. Sara had only sipped at hers. Though she found the taste enticing, it was stronger than the wine she was occasionally allowed at home.
As they rose to leave, Alys’ head popped around the doorway. Seeing that they were done, she was about to withdraw when Rayne called her back. Taking some coppers from his pocket he dropped them into the hand she tentatively placed before him. Alys looked up at him with a look of shock on her face.
It was all Sara could do to stop herself from laughing. If they kept on like this the girl would end up owning the place. When Alys looked from Rayne to her, Sara gave her a broad smile and a wink which drew the deepest blush to the young girl’s cheeks. Once again, she curtsied awkwardly to them both and then disappeared through the door behind them as fast as she could.
“Feeling generous are we?” asked Sara, suppressing her mirth with some difficulty.
“I felt it was the least I could do given the fuss she made over our supper,” replied Rayne. “I think I might have overdone it with two coppers, though. That’s probably more than she earns in several days here.”
“How many coppers is a silver piece worth?”
“Twenty.”
“Oh dear,” exclaimed Sara.
“Yes, that’s a lot of money here. Look after those few I gave you, we may need them before long.”
Sara turned away and pretended to fuss with her handkerchief. “Mmmm. Okay.”
Chapter 4
Rayne awoke from his sleep with a start. He felt sure he had heard a noise.
The room was dark, but as he opened his eyes he became aware that someone was lying on the bed next to him. Correction. They weren’t on the bed. They were in the bed. It was Sara, and she was curled up against him, fast asleep. She hadn’t been there when they had turned down the lamp; she’d been in her own bed on the other side of the room. She must have slipped in beside him after he had fallen asleep.
Before he could absorb that thought, he heard the noise that had awoken him again. Someone was knocking somewhere. In fact, now that he was getting some sense of where he was, it sounded like they were knocking on the door to their room.
“Miss, Sir,” he heard a female voice call out in a loud whisper that cut through the still, night air. “Wake up.”
Rayne glanced at the window. It was still dark outside. Why would anyone want to wake them in the middle of the night? As he sat up in bed, either his movement or the sounds from the door disturbed Sara. She began to stir beside him, rolling over on to her back at first, then mumbling something unintelligible as she began to waken. Rayne was fully alert now and his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room. Leaning closer to Sara, he whispered into her ear.
“Sara, wake up. It’s me, Rayne. There’s someone at the door. Don’t make a sound.”
The sound of knocking again brought Sara fully awake. “Miss, Sir,” came the insistent female voice from the other side of the door.
“What? . . . What?” Sara sat bolt upright in the bed.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” whispered Rayne, taking hold of her arm to calm her. “Someone’s at the door. Grab your knife while I found out who it is.”
Slipping out of the bed, Rayne crept over to the window. He had left his gear beside a chair next to the window and he could see his sword leaning against the wall beside it. Picking it up, he drew the blade from its sheath and took a deep breath. His heart was racing, but somehow he felt more secure with the weapon in his hand. As he began to move towards the door, a glance over one shoulder told him that Sara had also found her blade. She was fully awake now too, seated on the edge of the bed and bending down to put her shoes on while still keeping one eye on both him and the door. She had her knife in one hand as she slipped her shoes on with the other. As their eyes met, he smiled grimly, not knowing whether he was trying to reassure her or himself.
“Miss.”
The insistent female voice from the other side of the door sounded even more frantic than it had before. “Who is it?” Rayne replied. His own voice was a bare whisper, matching that of the person beyond the door.
“It’s Alys, Sir. It’s important. You and Miss have to get out of here. Quickly.” Alys’ voice was urgent, almost frantic, but Rayne could hear relief there as well, even through the closed door between them. Relief that she had finally woken them, he guessed. But was this a trick? Why would they have to get up in the middle of the night?
Gripping his sword tightly, Rayne opened the door. He felt the breath rush out of him at the sight of the young maid, alone, with a lamp in her hand. He’d had visions of a band of burly men, or worse still, sligs, armed to the teeth, standing behind her. But it was only Alys. She was alone, but clearly frightened, looking up at him with wide eyes, then turning quickly to look back down the corridor, before facing him once again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her. “What do you mean, we have to 'get out’?”
“Sir,” began Alys, trying to peer around him as she did so. Spying Sara, she nearly broke down, clutching her hand to her chest and gasping back a sob. “Oh, Miss,” she gushed. “There are soldiers coming here. You’ve got to get out, quickly. They’re going to arrest you, you and the Master both.”
Taking Alys’ arm, Rayne quickly drew her into the room, closing the door behind her after a quick glance down the corridor. “Arrest us?” he asked, turning her to face him. “What for? At this time of the day, I mean night. Alys, it’s the middle of the night. How do you know, anyway?” The girl’s claim didn’t ma
ke any sense. No one knew they were here, and soldiers were the least of their trouble. It wasn’t soldiers he feared, it was sligs, or Tug and his henchmen.
Turning away from Rayne, Alys directed her reply to Sara. She spoke quickly and excitedly, with a clear note of panic in her voice. “It’s true, Miss. I was at the baker’s just now, picking up the loaves for the morning meal. That’s my job, Miss. I have to go down there at three bells every morning. There were soldiers there, Miss, four of them.” Alys was wringing her hands as she spoke.
“They were standing around, eating bread and talking. I heard one of them say, Miss. He said they shouldn’t be wasting their time getting up at three bells to arrest two runaways, even if one was the daughter of one of the Guardian’s servants. He said ‘good luck to the young fella’, Miss. He said Rayne sounded like a Marcher name and Marcher folk were okay by him, even if they did run off with a bit of skirt. Begging your pardon, Miss, but that’s what he said. Then the big one asked Master Wainscott where The Fig Tree Inn was, Miss. I came straight back here fast as I could when I heard that, Miss. Please hurry, Miss. They’ll arrest you if they find you here.” By the time Alys finished, she was almost distraught, looking from Sara to Rayne and back again and wiping tears from her eyes.
“It’s okay, Alys,” replied Sara in a soothing voice. She took the young girl’s hand in an attempt to calm her as she spoke. “It’s not your fault, and you did right to warn us. You must go now or you’ll be in trouble too. We’ll be all right.” Letting go of Alys’ hand, she began stuffing her gear into her pack with little apparent thought for how it went in. Rayne could tell from the edge to her voice that she thought they would be anything but ‘all right’. Silently, he agreed.
