Busy week. 2 awards ceremonies at school and a birthday in the family. It was also so cold this morning that the bucket of water in the pony’s stall was frozen. I discovered that after setting off the alarm for the barn. The Police thought it was funny. I think #2 was a bit embarrassed.
Today’s bit of creative writing examines assumption, one of the themes I’m playing with for the current script.
Her Ladyship, Maybe
Terrill set his mug down and pointed to the door. His companions at the long table followed his gaze. A woman stood in the doorway of the Inn and looked around. Two men entered behind her, both with swords and the clank of mail beneath their traveling coats.
Old Boykin waddled over to them and made his usual fuss. The travelers spoke to him in hushed tones and he quickly led them to the stairs and the privacy of the upper rooms.
“What do you make of that?” asked Terrill.
Herk stared at the base of the stairs. “Seemed a bit mismatched. Her cloak was too fine for an Inn like this.”
“Aye, like they wanted us to think they were just travelers.” said Terrill.
“Maybe they were.” said Herk. “There’s all sorts that travel.”
“But with two guards?”
“Maybe she’s a princess?”
Terrrill didn’t think so. “She’d have had an entourage.”
Boykin sidled over. “And no self-respecting princess would be out with two soldiers alone.”
“So she’s not from the castle.” said Terrill.
“I didn’t say that.” said Boykin. “Look at the coin.” He showed them the silver harts and a golden osprey, warm and damp in his hand. “She must be close with the royal family.”
Terrill snapped his fingers. “She’s part of the Web.” The others looked about hastily.
Boykin whispered, “Do not speak so openly about the Web here in my house.”
Herk nodded. “And I don’t think a member of the Web would travel with two guards. She’d be a homeless whore or something.”
Terrill smiled. “That would have been nice.”
Boykin slapped him. “Don’t speak of her Ladyship in such vulgary.”
“Ah ha!” said Terrill. “So she is a noble.”
Boykin raised his hands, palms up. “I don’t know. She just asked not to be disturbed.
Mirabelle was exhausted from the ride. They had left her Aunt’s estate at dawn and ridden through a dreadful spring squall before reaching the Inn after sunset. She was hungry and her body ached. There would be no bath in a place like this, but for a price she could have food and a bed and that would have to be enough.
Her husband returned to the common room to fetch bread and ale while her son, now practically a man himself, collapsed in a chair near the door. She regretted the rush, but they had only been granted three days to attend the funeral and if she was not back by her Ladyship’s side tomorrow evening – she shuddered. The woman could be dreadfully cold. And generous, without the loan of her horses they’d never have made it and did give them money to pay for the trip.
She snuggled under the cloak her Aunt had bequeathed, shut her eyes against the world, and slept.