Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The noise and heat was stifling in the taproom and Rebecca eyed the kitchen door as she squeezed past patrons in various stages of drunkenness between the tables and the bar. The musician hired for the evening was drunker than most but no one seemed to mind as long as he kept up a noise in the corner.

She delivered two jugs of beer to a table, collected the coin and ignored yelled orders from others as she pushed through towards the kitchen. She let the door swing closed behind her and sighed as the cook turned at her entrance.

“Where you been, wench? My flamin’ stews don’t walk out on their own, you hear?” The florid man was difficult enough to deal with on a quiet night. Tonight, he was boiling ferociously and he waved at two trays of hollowed out loaves filled with greasy, over-spiced stew. “You’d better get these out to them paying customers or you’ll feel it ‘til th’ other side o’ tomorrow!

Rebecca ignored him and swept out the back door into the courtyard, trailing the cook’s imprecations behind her. The cool air hit her face and she breathed deeply, sounds from inside the inn now thankfully muted. She plucked at the material over her ribs as she walked towards the herb garden, hoping some air would work its way in and cool her down. She sat on the low wall and hitched up her skirts feeling the night air instantly soothe her aching legs. She longed to take her boots off but instead she rolled her stockings down around her ankles. No-one would see her, she was sure. Anyone looking for stabling tonight would be asked to take care of it themselves for it was Jakob’s night off. He wasn’t expected back until the morning.

She sprang up as the gate to the street swung open and she heard Aunt Illdrea yell directions to stables from the front porch. The newcomers ambled in on their horses and a young boy closed the gate behind the last of them. Rebecca wiped her hands on her skirts. Damn. This meant her brief rest was over. Either she could greet them and help with the horses or hurry back inside before they noticed her.

“Good eve to you,” said one of the men. Rebecca couldn’t be certain, but she thought one of the silhouetted figures looked straight at her. Now they all turned their attention in her direction. She swore softly as her options cut down to one and put a serviceable smile on her face as she stepped into the light.

“And good eve to you, m’sirs,” she said brightly. “Could I perhaps assist taking your horses to the stable?”

As she came closer she saw the four men more clearly and noticed the boy had joined them leading another horse. She swore again, this time in her head. She would now be responsible if there wasn’t enough room for all of them. The voice that had greeted her earlier now joined the face of the man dismounting.

“That’s a kind offer, m’lady, however we are fortunate enough to have brought our own stableboy.” The light humour in his voice was matched with an affectionate cuff to the boy’s shoulder. The boy in question stepped forward quickly and took the man’s reins with a grin, but when he turned to look at Rebecca, she suddenly wondered what she had done or said to deserve such a scowl.

The other three dismounted and seemed content to leave their horses in the boy’s hands and Rebecca shrugged. It was none of her concern. She was only out here taking a break. Let Jakob deal with them in the morning. And the boy can always run to Aunt Illdrea should there be a problem with the space. Rebecca had nothing to do with it. She jerked back from staring at the torchlight peering over the gate when the man spoke again.

“Perhaps you would escort us inside?”

He moved forward with a grace that made Rebecca’s stomach tighten. Dark hair curled softly over his collar and his eyes glinted enticingly from beneath a shadowed brow. She felt confused and stammered into the silence she suddenly realised she had held too long.

“Cer...certainly. This way.” She gestured towards the kitchen door and led the way quickly without looking back. She felt her stockings flap lower over her boots and prayed that her moving skirts would not betray her little indiscretion.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder only when she was wedged safely once more between the sweaty, shifting masses in the taproom. The four men entered through the kitchen door and surveyed the crowd. She ducked beneath a raised arm dripping the contents of the mug held in an overstuffed hand onto her shoulder.

Soon she had customers settled again with drinks and their food and she turned to face the newcomers seated at one of the tables. She smiled and quickly wiped the table down as she asked what they wanted.

“Ah, there you are!” screeched Aunt Illdrea from behind her shoulder. Rebecca cringed expecting a rebuke for her earlier break. Her aunt shoved her out the way and addressed the men seated at the table. “I was wonderin’ if you were to be joinin’ us this eve! What can I get you fine gents?” She leaned her arms on the table and bent forward, leering at the men with a full set of yellow teeth.

The dark-haired man glanced at Rebecca and she turned away from the pity she saw in his eyes. She didn’t want, or need that from anybody. But her escape was halted as her aunt’s hand snaked out and grabbed her arm.

“Ah see,” she crooned at the dark-haired man, “you fancy someone a little younger!” She laughed and winked ostentatiously. “This here is my niece an’ I’m sure she’ll take care of you just fine, won’t you dear?” Her aunt swatted her on her rump and Rebecca almost squeaked in surprise.

“Now you listen up, dearie,” Aunt Illdrea hissed into her ear as she held her close. “These here fine gentlemen are payin’ real good for a night’s stay. You just make sure they get their money’s worth.” She turned to the table again, releasing Rebecca except for one hand still gripping her upper arm. Her face creased around a lewd smile.

“You gents have any problems, any problems at all,” now she turned and addressed the tough-looking older man, “you jes’ give this old girl a shout and let experience take care of it for you!” She laughed loudly once again and pushed Rebecca forward once more. With a final flick of her head and suggestive roll of her hips, Aunt Illdrea turned and left to entertain the other guests.

Rebecca stared at the tabletop and saw the streaks her overworked cloth had left there. She refused to acknowledge the fire in her cheeks or the throbbing in her arm and stepped forward to wipe the table again.

She felt a silent communication between the dark-haired and the older man. Unintentionally she glanced up and caught the eye of the smaller one sitting quietly next to them. His eyes were speculative and Rebecca shivered. She straightened up, determined to face each of them down before any misconceptions evolved.

The giant sitting opposite seemed to have tears in his eyes but he looked away too quickly for Rebecca to be sure. She dismissed him. She glared at the scrawny speculative one and soon he looked away, embarrassed. She felt a spike of angry satisfaction and looked to the other two. The dark-haired one refused to look at her but seemed to hold the older man opposite him in fierce concentration. The older man broke eye contact easily however and turned to Rebecca without any feelings showing on his face.

“Just bring us four cold jugs and four plates of hot food. Whatever you have would surely be better than anything we’ve had on the road.” He smiled without intensity and Rebecca suddenly felt small.

Perhaps they hadn’t taken any other meaning to her aunt’s words and here she was judging them. Perhaps they truly were gentlemen of sorts. She hurried away to serve them before they could read anything more on her face.