excrement and piss, plus barnyard, hard barnyard. Chickens clucked and raced around our horse’s hooves as they stepped and I tried to telepathically warn them, “That old man wants to kill you, don’t trust him.” We passed a pig sty, with a big ass pig covered in flies. Then a couple of small, thin dairy cows, being led down the path. The whole scene was a medieval shit-show and it was hard going to stay hungry. But ravenous was I.
I knew to keep my head down, Magnus held my reins and his own. He was on guard, cautious, watching everything, until finally he found someone respectable and called, “Hallo!”
They spoke at length. While we had been camping, he had been teaching me more words. But they were the words of forest and loch, not city and inn. I would need a lot more lessons to understand. Magnus and the man each pointed and discussed something farther along the road.
After they were finished, Magnus said, “He told me of an inn near Grassmarket and another farther along, but the first is near the market and that is enough for me.”
“Food?”
“Aye, food.”
We continued on, pushing through the crowds, coming to a retchworthy and stenchariffic slaughterhouse. Magnus said, “Turn yer eyes.”
I watched Hurley’s mane and went to my happy place, until we came to the very crowded fresh market, and then further along we passed under an archway into a courtyard, surrounded by a row of two story, half-timber buildings that were small and almost like hotel rooms.
Magnus said, “We hae arrived.” He slid down from Cynric and tied our horses to a post. I slid down from Hurley and took stock. The Inn’s sign was a crude carving of a deer. Someone shoved past me and Magnus growled at him. He unstrapped our main bag, the one full of weapons and gold, and slung it over his shoulder. He paid a stableboy to watch our things. “We will go procure a room.”
We entered the downstairs of the main tavern. Much like an eighteenth century inn or a twenty-first century seedy hotel: dark, gloomy. I quickly counted four men, and one woman, sitting on benches at a long trestle table running down the room. At the far end of the room stood a hearth with a large fire burning. Warm with the promise of food, I mentally declared it perfect.
The proprietor hustled over with a cup of ale for us to share. Magnus took it and drank and drank and drank until it was empty. I laughed. “Magnus!”
“I am sorry, mo reul-iuil , twas too good tae share. I will order a whole lot more.”
To the man he spoke at length and then they seemed to come to an agreement. The proprietor left and Magnus said, “I told Ian we need a private room and a great deal more ale. And food, I asked him was there plenty of food. He has assured me there is enough.”
Ian returned with another ale and a wooden board with a loaf of bread on it, warm, with some cuts of cheese. He passed that ale to Magnus first, but Magnus dutifully gave it to me and I slammed that whole damn thing. There had been a pregnancy, a childbirth, a newborn and breastfeeding, and now I was lost in medieval times. I hadn’t been drinking for a long time and guess what? I had time to make up for. They laughed when I wiped my mouth with my arm. Magnus ordered us another ale.
It was clear by how Ian spoke to Magnus that he considered him rich and important, which was a great feeling after being homeless for days on end. Magnus and I sat down at the end of the table. He spoke loudly to the other patrons, and then ordered them all a round of drinks and another loaf of bread on our tab.
I downed my second ale and got super buzzy and introduced myself as Lady Ulrich of Lichtenstein and Gelderland. I leaned to Magnus, “It’s from a movie, Knight’s Tale, before I met you it was basically the closest I ever got to a sword.” This was the most fun we had had in weeks. Magnus and I plowed through the loaf of bread and ordered more. He asked, “Dost ye want anythin’ else?”
“Is there an egg or three? I need some protein.”
“Aye,” he ordered cooked eggs and more cheese. To me he said, “I hae tae slow down. I will get