“Friend, surely a friend,” Garty says, almost begging to be allowed in. Please let me in!
The man opens the door and his hand is extended. He holds a lit candle.
“Come in friend,” he says. “Wipe thy feet.”
“First, my horse must bed down,” Garty says. “And be fed.”
“I be there in a tick of a grandfather clock,” the Inn Keeper says. Closing the door in Garty’s face, he disappears. Garty waits, becoming a little uneasy. Fifteen minutes later, the man, clothed in oilskin cape and boots, holding an oil lamp, bustles through the door.
“Follow me,” he says, hobbling as he walks along the pathway and towards some old sheds. His oil lamp creaks, his boots squeak and even his oilcloth cape squeaks. Garty has no problem following him. “Here is where the animals sleep,” he holds the oil lamp up so that Garty can take a good view of its suitability.
“We do have horse feed in this barrel, he says, pointing to a rather large round barrel in the corner. It is filled with hay and oats.
“That looks sufficient,” Garty says. “And water?” He asks.
“Over here,” the man redirected Garty to a long trough nearby. It has a pump standing above it. “You can pump more water if you want to” he says.
Garty is satisfied.
“Is there a stable hand?” Garty asks.
The man shakes his head. “I am the gopher here. I can take your horse for you and give him a warm blanket for the night?”
“Thank you. That is kind of you,” Garty says, unsaddling his mount and loading his person with knapsack and saddle bag, saddle, along with his rifle and pistol.
“Sack is my name” the man said, holding his free hand to Garty. “Sorry, I will take some of those things,” says Sack.
Garty gives him his saddle to hold, while they shake hands.
“Garty Musdo,” Garty says. “I appreciate your kindness.”
“Not at all,” said Sack, who begins a search for the blanket he promised. “I left it here somewhere,” he mumbles, tripping over something in the dim light.
“Where can I leave these?” Garty asks, holding on to his whip and straps, along with other items.
“Drop your tack there,” the man points to a shelf on the far side.
Garty heads over there and releases some of his load, turning back towards Sack. He keeps his saddle bag over his shoulder.
“Go on inside Garty, for Etty knows you are coming and is preparing supper.”
Garty’s stomach is grumbling badly now, and he longs for a nice hot meal. He had taken the bread that Mrs Bouchée had given him when it was hot. It is cold now. But, he thought he might get to eat it later if the meal proved insufficient.
“Here, take this!” Sack says, addressing Garty, handing him the oil lamp. “What will you do without it?”
“I can do all I need to blindfolded.” Sack laughs as he says this. It is a dark night and the moon is barely visible, only in snatches of light as the clouds part for a moment or two. “You go on in now! Use the back door, it’s open. I shall follow thee later,” says the man, busily covering the horse in a warm woollen blanket. Brill seems satisfied as he nibbles at the food in the barrel.
Garty finds the back door of the establishment and sure as Sack had said, the door opens as he pushes on the handle. It creaks a little. There is a dim light in an entrance and he sees doors on either side with numbers on them.
He made his way through the short corridor and into a dining area. There is a table with a couple dining, a young woman with golden hair and pale face. The man with her is thin, bony and probably taller than Garty, who is six feet tall. He cannot ascertain this until the man stands. They glance his way as he enters the room. The aroma of cooking fills his nostrils.
A woman comes hurriedly from a nearby kitchen, leaving sizzling noises in her wake. She wipes her hands on her apron and seems unduly flustered.
“Good evening, Sir, did you need to eat now?” She asks. He sighs inwardly and says, “It is a late hour, but I should appreciate a hot meal. If that is not too much trouble for thee, Madam?”
“No indeed! We were about to close the kitchen when you rang the door bell, so that not a problem. I see you are overburdened with luggage. Would you like to put your things in your room or keep them with you?”
Garty quickly sums her up. She appears younger than Mrs Bouchée and quite similar in appearance, robust, with keen eyes and flushed cheeks, beneath her grey baker’s cap, her mousey hair is tucked in. Her apparel s a little less fashionable than Maud’s, even dowdy, with charcoal being her gown colour, causing her countenance to appear wan. She is also a little more flustered in demeanour, he deems.
She ducks into the office in the front entrance and has a key in her hand when she returns a few moments later.
“Come now, put those things in a safe place and then you can enjoy a bite to eat. I know how hungry men can be!”
“Thank you.” Garty follows her to a room nearby. She opens the door. He looks inside and is quite surprised at its generous size. There is a four poster bed, plenty of cupboards, a lamp and a small table with drawers.
“Perfect,” he exclaims. She seems pleased with his response. She leaves him to prepare his supper. He hopes it tastes as good as Mrs. Bouchée’s food, but has doubts! Inn’s rarely produced such homey and delicious foods comparable to Maud Bouchée’s establishment.
He finds a mirror on the wall above a water jug and basin and washes his face, drying it with a fluffy towel on a hook. He tidies his tossed hair. He removed his cape and sits on the side of the bed with his head in his hands for a few moments recovery. Surely I am safe for now?
“Good evening,” Garty says as he passes by the young couple dining in the dining room.
They reply politely, “Good evening,” and continue eating and drinking.
Garty sits down at a table nearby. A few moments later, Etty comes hurrying towards him, carrying a tray with a dish of sorts.
She smiles as she places the meal before Garty.
I might eat a horse right now. Not a horse exactly, he corrects his thoughts. He would never eat Brill, his wonderful companion and ride for so many years now. He looks at the dish before him, reheated stew with a pile of what looks like rough potato mash on the side of the large porcelain plate. He could see a little steam, which cheered him up. A hot meal!
“Thank you. It looks hearty!” Garty says. Etty is happy with that comment, and clears a few items away, including extra cutlery and glasses.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Garty orders apple juice, as he had become almost addicted to Mrs. Bouchée’s delicious apple juices that seemed to lift his spirits remarkably well.
Garty starts to taste the food before him. It was not exactly delicious, but it will fill a large gap in my growling stomach, he reckons. It tastes a trifle cold in spots but he eats as much as he possibly can without choking. In the meantime, the couple quietly exit the dining room, leaving Garty alone with a number of oil lamps and a few candles strewn around the tables. He counts four tables and eight candles.
“Thank you, I have had sufficient, and appreciated,” he says to Etty as she appears from the shadows to remove his empty plate.
Very civil, he notes. I trust Sack is still taking care of Brill, as he has not returned. Nevertheless, I trust the Innkeeper to care for Brill. Now I must be off to bed and rest. Another day awaits me tomorrow. He heads for his room.
Garty falls into a deep sleep until sunrise. He barely hears the knock on his door. Madam Etty hurries in with a nice hot cup of tea.
“I trust this will cheer you up,” she says. “For ’tis a wonderful day with the birds singing and the sun shining brightly! I took the liberty of adding sugar and cream,” Etty says with a twinkle in her eyes.
She knows what men like, for sure, Garty thinks.
“Thank you very much,” Garty says, as he takes the porcelain cup and saucer from her hands. He is a little distracted being in his night shirt and long johns undergarment, but she didn’t seem to notice or care about his appearance. She pulls apart the curtains to bring light into the darkness. Garty flinches at the blast of light for a moment as it pours into the darkened room.
“Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes,” she adds as her large figure disappears from his view and the door shuts behind her.
Before enjoying a leisurely breakfast Garty determines to visit Brill to see how he fared through the night in a strange location. After a quick toilette, abandoning the empty cup and saucer on the small table in his room, he heads out to the stables. As he walks through the property, he sums up his quarters. He feels quietly pleased that its location avails his viewing the local roadways. He will remain alert for any highway men coming to visit him for unknown reasons. He pats Brill and holds out a handful of feed on his palm.
“Good boy,” he says. The horse is not the only one there. Next door to Brill he notices a couple of horses, and he sees another stable further along the way. There is also a sulky parked in the yard, possibly belonging to the young couple I met last night.
Leaving Brill with a good drink of water nearby, he heads for the dining area once again. Its ambience is more akin to a formal dining area this morning. At night it had seemed mystique and romantic with all the candles burning. Now there are no lamps burning and the sun brings with it the natural lighting, giving the room a soft coziness.
He notices the young woman is seated at the same table she shared with the man on the previous evening. He sits at the table adjacent, in case they may enjoy a short conversation. He is, of course, always investigating possibilities of his quest for a princess. Every young woman is a possibility, he thinks.
“Good morning,” the woman says, smiling his way. She is reading the local 'Jael Newspaper', which she places on the table.
She appears friendly.
“Good morning,” Garty bows slightly, rising to the occasion. Garty sits down again. “It’s a fine day,” he says conversationally. “Is your husband unwell?” He asks, just in case there is a problem with the man she shared her dinner with in the evening before.
She laughs lightly. He notices her golden hair in the morning light, set upon her head like a tower, with a few strands flowing around her ears. She seems exceedingly sweet, he thinks, taking a deep breath. She suddenly stands up and moves a few steps to Garty’s table, grasping the newspaper.
“May I?” She asks.
He immediately jumps up and holds the chair away from the table to enable her to be seated.
“I shall only stay a moment. My brother is engaged in his toiletry,” she explains. “He was still asleep, but will join me shortly,” she says, anxiously looking towards the doorway.
“I understand,” Garty says. Yes, I understand that this woman and man are siblings. The man had the upper hand as the woman is practically fearful for some reason.
“Is he also your chaperone?” Garty asks. I have met many folk in the area who appointed male siblings to chaperone their daughters. I am not surprised at all to see this type of arrangement.