Encounter at the Inn (part 2)

The courtyard was bounded by three high walls set at right angles to each other, each with a large arched entrance with thick, wooden gates, which had been thrown back parallel to each wall, and a small postern set into the stonework. The three-storied inn itself made up the fourth boundary.  Bull dismounted from his horse and, drawing his bare sword from his belt, placed it into the scabbard which now hung from his saddle. He gently waved his hand to the right of the inn and the Princess was just able to discern what appeared to be a small stable, set a little way back from the courtyard next to the inn.

“Toad,” Bull said. “Wake the farrier from his slumbers and quarter the horses, if you please; I will go and re-acquaint myself with the innkeeper and find some rations and some beds for this night.”

“It is not the best inn in these parts,” Bull said to the Princess apologetically while Toad dismounted. “However, I know the innkeeper and his wife and they are wont not only to keep their ale fresh and sweet but the food, though plain, is always most handsomely prepared and cooked to perfection. The rooms are small and the beds somewhat hard, which the meagre palliasses do little to lessen, but with ale and good food, this is but a minor, insignificant irritation.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge and wisdom, Bull,” the Princess replied with a grin. “I could care not a jot were I to sleep on the bare stones of the castle keep, so weary am I after hours in the saddle.”

The Princess dismounted in turn from her horse but was unsure of who she should follow, Toad or Bull. As she stood there, clearly at a loss, Bull waved her to the right.

“You will want to be ensuring that your horse is settled and comfortable,” Bull said. “It is not your own horse and, were it me, I would wish to take especial care that he was in the best of hands.  Go with Toad, he will surely protect you from any untoward advances from the farrier, and settle your horse.”

Bull strode off towards the entrance to the inn, a low wooden door but bound with iron to protect it if the inn should come under attack from the Incursors out of the Far Reaches. Bull paused at the threshold and turned briefly, as if to make certain that all was still well, before unfastening the latch and stepping inside.

“Come, my Lady,” Toad whispered. “I have Bull’s mighty steed as well as mine. You need only lead your own.” Toad smiled.

In truth, Bull’s horse was no more, and no less, a mount than either Toad or the Princess possessed but Bull was wont to inflate both the horse’s size and his prowess as a Percheron when in conversation with strangers or pretty women. The pair walked in silence towards the stable. The Princess had become genuinely fond of the two soldiers who had ensured her safety on her journey to her father’s castle and from there to this inn and she felt that this silence did not become her. It made her feel as if she were a true, high-born Princess, unaccustomed to speaking to low-born soldiers, except perhaps to give them orders or instructions, which she felt certain was not how she wanted to be. She had, since her arrival at Natalia’s cottage all those years ago, believed herself, in spirit, to be a peasant girl first and foremost and a Princess only by default; a mere mischance of birth.

“It is very mild tonight,” she said suddenly to Toad. “I do hope that it will not be too warm for sleep of which I am, truly, in sore need.”

Toad called out to the farrier.

“Raise yourself, oaf,” Toad bellowed. “I have three of the King’s horses here and a Princess to boot, although happily you are only requested to house the three horses!” Toad turned his head towards the Princess and smiled. “Step lively, man, we are waiting!”

The farrier appeared at the doorway to the stables, a small side door alongside the closed gates to the actual stabling area itself. He appeared, as Bull had foretold, to have been abruptly awakened from slumber and he rubbed his eyes wearily as he sought to gain command of his wits. The farrier was a large man, a head taller than Toad, the Princess thought, and girt in a leather apron which came down to his ankles. His broad chest was bare, no doubt as a result of the mildness of the evening, as were his feet; further evidence of his recent slumber. His arms and shoulders bore witness to the many hours labouring under the hammer and the furnace.

“Aye, hold your horses, man!” The farrier said and smiled at his own lame pun. “A prial of the King’s horses, you say; we are honoured to put our humble premises at your disposal; and a Princess to boot, you say. Is that her?” He said pointing at the Princess. “Looks more like a serving wench, if you ask me, beggin’ your pardon Miss, if indeed you be a real Princess.” Toad glared at the farrier and made a move towards both him and to his sword, which still hung scabbarded on his belt.

“No offence meant, really, beggin’ your pardon, kind Sir. It’s just that she don’t look much like a Princess, beggin’ your pardon, Mistress. I thought Princesses, well I thought they were all dressed in silks and gold and dainty slippers and such like; never seen a princess decked out like a serving wench, what with the linen trous and a shirt and boots, beggin’ your pardon, Mistress, your Highness, my Lady.”

(to be continued)