Toad opened the door and, with his back against the iron
which bound the wooden planks, bowed low and waved her into the inn with a
flourish, as though he were ushering her into a stately ballroom courtesy of
the King himself. Toad stepped away from the door and was surprised when, all
of its own free will, the door closed behind him. He thought at first that some
charm or other had been placed on the entrance by some elf, more knowledgeable
than he, but, in glancing upwards towards the lintel, he descried the spring
that was the real instrument of this magic. Disappointed, though he knew not
why, he turned sharply back to take in the ambience of the room and saw that it
was almost empty; just a few lonely souls sitting alone at scattered tables
nurturing their isolation in between gulps of ale. Looking around, he could see
Bull standing at the oaken shelf that served as a bar in this inn, propping his
elbows on the glazed surface as though he could no longer support his own
weight. The Princess was already moving towards him; Toad decided to join them.
“Well met, again, Princess,” Bull shouted. “Holla, Toad,
your turn to stand the round, methinks!
Too long have you kept your silver pennies in your purse, Master
Pinchpenny! Barkeep, two flagons of ale! And what of you, my good Princess? Some of
Master Elias’ fine matured barley wine, or perhaps some Korn tempered with a
little water; what say you? Be not slow otherwise my good friend Toad will
surely pass you by and leave you thirsty.”
Toad was smiling as he approached the bar, his hands
rummaging in the small money purse hanging at his belt. He had become
accustomed to Bull’s accusations of miserliness and he paid it no more heed
than he had done on countless occasions before.
So, what is it to be, my Lady?” Toad said as he came up from
behind the Princess. “I will surely not pass you by and yet you had better be
quick, else Bull and I will have finished and you will scarcely have started.”
“Innkeeper, Elias, do you have any mulled wine?” The
Princess asked. The innkeeper nodded. “A glass of mulled wine then please. Do
you have a cinnamon stick to spare that you may add it to the wine?” The
innkeeper nodded once more and turned to enter a narrow door that led to the
kitchen and the kettle of steaming wine. He returned a minute or so later and
laid the two flagons of ale and a pewter goblet of steaming wine, with two
cinnamon sticks, onto the bar.
“That will be four groats, Master Toad. Will you pay now or
shall I tot it all up for when you are so far into your cups that you will have
forgotten all that you have done this night and I shall have to sweep you up
the stairs to your beds with my besom!”
“Oh, just as you wish,” said Toad, feigning exasperation.
“We will pay later when we have finished for the evening, or perhaps tomorrow
morn’. No doubt, you will diddle us, as is your wont, but it is of no matter.
Tonight we sup with a Princess and that is a tale to tell for such as I and
worth every silver penny, I’d wager.” The Princess flushed and rapidly took a
sip of the hot wine.
“Tell me, Master Barkeep,” said Bull. “What do you have for
supper? Something toothsome, I hope; we entertain royalty tonight! I have
assured my good Princess that the food here is as good as, if not better, than
that at the King’s own High Table. Do not disappoint!”
“Ah, you have the very luck of the Dark One tonight,”
replied the innkeeper. “My wife has prepared venison stew with bay, garlic and
the blood of the stag for a party coming in later this evening. Needless to
say, she has produced enough to feed a regiment of hungry soldiers even though
only sufficient for eight was required. We have taters, carrots and turnip to
accompany. Will that do for your Princess, do you think?” Toad and the Princess
nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, I suppose it will have to do,” Bull smiled. “Enough
to feed a regiment, you say? Then bring it on, man, and extra gravy; a soldier
needs to feed on blood every once and a while and stag’s blood is just as
nourishing as an Incursor’s! We will sit over there, by the window; it will be
cooler, methinks.”
The three hungry guests, each carrying their own drink, made
their way to the table that Bull had indicated. Sitting themselves down, the
Princess took a deep breath and asked, somewhat apprehensively:
“You don’t really drink Incursor blood, do you, Bull?”
“No, it would taste fouler than the most noisome beast but
it never hurts to spread a little mischievous rumour. News and rumour travel
fast, especially so in the direction of the Far Reaches. Perhaps, the tale does
need a little embellishment; what say you, Toad? Shall we put it about that not
only do we drink their blood but we do so only when they are still alive and
conscious! Lapping it up like bats from the open artery.” Toad guffawed.
(to be continued)
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