of tannin and mashed brains for the leather makers. Worst was the butchers’ row, where the gutters and cobbles ran red with blood. Here the beggars and those of lowly descent fought with the dogs and gulls over dripping strings of entrails tossed into steaming heaps and deemed worthless even for the making of soap or casings.
In the centre of the town were the fine stone houses of the richer citizens, the guildhall with its belfry tower, the marketplace where ladies and their tiring women congregated to inspect the newest velvets imported by the Venetian merchants. Linens from Flanders were sold here, almonds and spices were offered in fragrant handfuls by swarthy-skinned Greeks. At the very heart was the town square with its raised dais and tall wooden cross where the town crier stood to make all public pronouncements.
As in most cities, there were nearly as many churches as houses, built to play on the guilty consciences of the masses of sinners. There was a monastery for training acolytes and a nunnery for the welfare and safekeeping of beautiful or rebellious young daughters. In almost as great a number were the taverns, inns, and wine shops located where merchants could eat, sleep and drink with other merchants, Jews with Jews, sellers of iron and bronze with the brawny men who fashioned weapons and suits of fine chain mail. These, like all other establishments, bore no written names on their signposts, for only the very rich and privileged could cipher lettering. They were identified with graven pictures carved and painted brightly—a snarling boar to depict the Boar’s Head Inn, or a sprig of yellow weeds to harken patrons to the Golden Thistle.
The inn where Henry finally called a halt boasted a swinging wooden sign painted with two strutting red cocks. At first, Ariel could scarcely believe it had been FitzRandwulf’s choice, for it was surely the most squalid, drunken tilt of warped boards and half-rotted thatching they had encountered. After an intense few minutes spent contemplating their surroundings, her brother was of the same shocked opinion.
“I am not keen on the look of this place,” he said unnecessarily.
“Aye,” Sedrick mused. “He might have chosen a place less extravagant nearer the butchers’ mart.”
“Are you certain this is where Lord Eduard instructed us to meet him?” Dafydd asked in an awed whisper, his eyes rounded and fixed upon a man and woman strolling past, the latter scantily clad and screeching with laughter as the man thrust his hand under her bodice and gave her breasts a hearty fondle.
Henry peered up at the sign to doubly verify it in his own mind. “Robin … perhaps you and Ariel should remain out here with the horses until we have had a look inside.”
Ariel, already dismounted and standing on the cobbled street with the others, laid a hand on the hilt of her shortsword and shook her head. “I go where you go, brother dearest, and in this case, I prefer to have a look myself, thank you.”
Henry frowned, but he was not in any mood to argue now, not with the daylight waning and the gloom becoming less wholesome by the minute. He hailed a burly looking scoundrel from a doorway nearby and held up a silver coin.
“This is yours, fellow, if you will stand with the horses and guard against any curious hands straying too near.”
The man nodded and grinned through a blackened grate of broken teeth. “Not so much as a finger, my fine lord, or you will have it on your plate come morning.”
“My companions and I will fetch your fingers, along with your heart and eyes if you make the mistake of being too curious yourself.”
The lout glanced at Sedrick, who looked big enough and powerful enough to do the fetching himself, without aid of a knife or sword, and he nodded again.
Henry girded himself and led the way.
Inside, the cramped taproom was gloomy from lack of light. There were no windows and the only dim illumination came from a meagre supply of tallow candles smoking on the tabletops. The stench was like nothing Ariel had ever choked on before and she lifted her hand to cover her nose and mouth, preferring the leather smell of her gloves.
When her eyes adjusted to the amber-toned shadows, she could see crudely built trestles and benches lining three of the walls. Along the fourth was a counter consisting of a warped board propped between two oak casks. A blowsy, amazingly buxom barmaid stood behind