![[Roger the Chapman 04] - The Holy Innocents](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/589862/thumbs/152x264/roger-the-chapman-04-the-holy-innocents.jpg)
experienced in the second bedchamber was nothing more than bodily weakness engendered by hunger.
Yet I was still left with the unresolved problem of why no one could be found to remain here. There was a general aversion to the house, and, so far, I had not discovered what caused it. Perhaps if I took myself to the local inn, I might obtain some information. So I closed all the shutters and locked all the doors, before letting myself out into the street and directing my feet towards the nearest hostelry.
This I found in the lee of the castle wall - a narrow-fronted, inhospitable-looking dwelling, but whose bunch of green leaves, hoisted on a pole over the entrance, indicated that its occupant sold ale and food. I made my way inside, and when my eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness, I could see a long table down the middle of the room, benches ranged around the walls and a high-backed settle drawn up close to a central hearth, on which a few logs were burning. There were only one or two other customers beside myself, it being, by now, close to the hour of curfew; and doubtless the townsfolk were already making themselves comfortable by their firesides, barricading doors and windows against imaginary attack from the outlaws. I drew a stool up to the table, and shouted for the landlord.
As is often the ease in country districts, the inn was run by a woman. She came into the ale-room from somewhere at the back; by the smell of her, most probably the brewhouse.
At first sight, she appeared to be a large, motherly-looking woman, an impression immediately dispelled on closer acquaintance. Small dark eyes, set in folds of pallid flesh, shrewdly summed me up as someone likely to spend money freely, being in need of copious refreshment. She was therefore all affability; but a pair of brawny arms and a fist, the size and appearance, when bunched, of a ham, were warnings that she would stand no nonsense.
'Ale,' I said, 'and bread and cheese. And plenty of it.' She nodded, eyeing me appreciatively.
'A hulking fellow like you could do with some cold, boiled bacon, as well, I daresay. And some buckram, nice and juicy, the first of the season?'
'Why not?' I grinned. 'In my lonely bed, there will be no one to object to the smell of my breath.'
The landlady raised an eyebrow and snorted. 'Lonely bed, is it? Then it's of your own choosing. There are girls in plenty around these parts who'd jump at the chance of keeping you warm, if you so much as crooked a finger. I'd do so myself if I were twenty years younger.' She added a foul-mouthed sally and went away, chortling.
By the time she returned, I was the only customer left. The ale-house was too small to be a hostelry, and there seemed to be no inmates except herself and a long-faced tapster, who came to draw my ale, then vanished, silently.
'My son,' she shrugged, nodding in the general direction of his disappearance. 'A miserable dog, if ever there was one. But I need him. I can't manage the barrels on my own. Now, eat up.' She placed a laden platter before me and drew another stool close to the table. 'And while you're eating, you can tell me who you are and where you come from. It's always a pleasure to meet a stranger.'
So, between mouthfuls of bread and ham, cheese and garlic, all washed down with a good strong ale, I gave her a brief history of my life so far; a narration at which I had become adept over the years, because I always seemed to arouse people's curiosity. I also related, for the third or fourth time that day, news of King Edward's proposed invasion of France; at which she spat in the sawdust covering the floor, and remarked that men were born fools who, unhappily, never grew any wiser.
'Always fighting one another, like children. Killing each other for no good reason. Women need more say in the governing of things, Master Chapman, and then we might see common sense prevailing.' When she saw that I was not to be drawn, she gave a gap-toothed smile and changed
Yet I was still left with the unresolved problem of why no one could be found to remain here. There was a general aversion to the house, and, so far, I had not discovered what caused it. Perhaps if I took myself to the local inn, I might obtain some information. So I closed all the shutters and locked all the doors, before letting myself out into the street and directing my feet towards the nearest hostelry.
This I found in the lee of the castle wall - a narrow-fronted, inhospitable-looking dwelling, but whose bunch of green leaves, hoisted on a pole over the entrance, indicated that its occupant sold ale and food. I made my way inside, and when my eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness, I could see a long table down the middle of the room, benches ranged around the walls and a high-backed settle drawn up close to a central hearth, on which a few logs were burning. There were only one or two other customers beside myself, it being, by now, close to the hour of curfew; and doubtless the townsfolk were already making themselves comfortable by their firesides, barricading doors and windows against imaginary attack from the outlaws. I drew a stool up to the table, and shouted for the landlord.
As is often the ease in country districts, the inn was run by a woman. She came into the ale-room from somewhere at the back; by the smell of her, most probably the brewhouse.
At first sight, she appeared to be a large, motherly-looking woman, an impression immediately dispelled on closer acquaintance. Small dark eyes, set in folds of pallid flesh, shrewdly summed me up as someone likely to spend money freely, being in need of copious refreshment. She was therefore all affability; but a pair of brawny arms and a fist, the size and appearance, when bunched, of a ham, were warnings that she would stand no nonsense.
'Ale,' I said, 'and bread and cheese. And plenty of it.' She nodded, eyeing me appreciatively.
'A hulking fellow like you could do with some cold, boiled bacon, as well, I daresay. And some buckram, nice and juicy, the first of the season?'
'Why not?' I grinned. 'In my lonely bed, there will be no one to object to the smell of my breath.'
The landlady raised an eyebrow and snorted. 'Lonely bed, is it? Then it's of your own choosing. There are girls in plenty around these parts who'd jump at the chance of keeping you warm, if you so much as crooked a finger. I'd do so myself if I were twenty years younger.' She added a foul-mouthed sally and went away, chortling.
By the time she returned, I was the only customer left. The ale-house was too small to be a hostelry, and there seemed to be no inmates except herself and a long-faced tapster, who came to draw my ale, then vanished, silently.
'My son,' she shrugged, nodding in the general direction of his disappearance. 'A miserable dog, if ever there was one. But I need him. I can't manage the barrels on my own. Now, eat up.' She placed a laden platter before me and drew another stool close to the table. 'And while you're eating, you can tell me who you are and where you come from. It's always a pleasure to meet a stranger.'
So, between mouthfuls of bread and ham, cheese and garlic, all washed down with a good strong ale, I gave her a brief history of my life so far; a narration at which I had become adept over the years, because I always seemed to arouse people's curiosity. I also related, for the third or fourth time that day, news of King Edward's proposed invasion of France; at which she spat in the sawdust covering the floor, and remarked that men were born fools who, unhappily, never grew any wiser.
'Always fighting one another, like children. Killing each other for no good reason. Women need more say in the governing of things, Master Chapman, and then we might see common sense prevailing.' When she saw that I was not to be drawn, she gave a gap-toothed smile and changed
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