Chapter 9: River Road

(Robin Oaklea, son of Will Archer, narrates)

In the inn at Coraton, I watch the Lady Elinor. She seems to know well her way around such a bustling environment, leastways for one who asserts she has never travelled away from her manor before. I can see her clearly from where Henry is giving us instructions and information about how to get to Brugge and some idea of what the teeming Flemish port is like, or was the last time he went through there on the way to or from some war. I swear that I listened to every word he said, but I confess that half of my attention was taken up by watching her. Somehow, she must have borrowed a hair brush from somewhere, as her unruly red hair was finally under control and shone like Welsh gold in the rush lights of the inn. She was now dressed in humble garb, exchanging her flimsy silk wedding gown for sturdier everyday wear of woollen fabrication over linen undershirt.

She was laughing with the maids, sharing a joke at my expense no doubt, I thought miserably. But one of the maids revealed the silken gown for her friends to see and feel, and I kenned the true source of the merriment; Lady Elinor had exchanged the gown for the servant’s everyday clothes and, hopefully a woollen cloak, for I owned up that I would like my own coat back in time for the sea crossing. Perhaps the maid holding on possessively to the fancy silk gown was to marry soon?

I have paid the innkeeper for one room to sleep on her own for the Lady, while Henry, Hugh and me are roughing it in the loft above the barn. After sharing our supper with the once more aloof Lady, we man and two boys retire to the inn’s public hall, while the Lady retires for a bath and an early night abed. Meanwhile we enquire of the regular bar users about securing a further mount, one fit for a Lady, by early upon the morrow. The conversation among the locals and traders, each seeing opportunities to be negotiated, is lively, frank, and with much spitting on palms in hopes of sealing bargains, but the night was really only successfully concluded, after we spoke to a particular local, who was heartily recommended by all present, or at least all the few wise among fools nthat were worth listening to.

There had been little argument about where our tiny band of travellers go from here. Our conversation, which was conducted before Elinor had changed her clothes and descended to the hall for supper, was succinct and to the point. Hugh simply refused to leave us and go back the way he came, carrying a message for my father. He insists that he has no sense of direction and has no idea of the way home, and is sure that he will be robbed and murdered and his tiny pony stolen, without the protective and intimidating Henry at his side. I on the other was never going to leave by my obligation owed to the Lady in her need for assistance and in her hours of need, to any other. So Henry, reluctantly agrees that he has to be the one to go back and inform my father where we have gone, to save him the futility and heartache of chasing after us in the neighbouring counties.

I wave God Speed to Henry, as he leaves after an early breakfast, before most others have stirred, after the long night and short sleep. Other than the bare few pennies he needs for the two days’ journey home, he presses the rest of the money from his belt, entrusted to him by my father, into my hand before he departs, heading west, while we look to the sunrise for our onward bearing.

We have all slept well, considering the late hour we finally retired, so the remaining three of us were prepared to leave the inn immediately after an early break of our fast. Even Hugh, who freely admits to always being poor company in the morning, is eager for the next stage of the adventure to begin.

Lady Elinor arrives early in the dining hall for our breakfast, without our need to send summons to her. She appears much more comfortable today in her change of garments, and is indeed kitted out with an old but still serviceable and warm looking woollen cloak for the sea journey. But still she has to start the conversation by complaints about what manner of beast I have secured for her to ride, as yet unseen by her.

She continues, “Why have we left this until this morning, before I can see if you have chosen a suitable mount and how comfortable the saddle is for riding, day after day? I should have seen the beast last night before supper, so we had time to make other arrangements should the one supplied prove unsuitable.”

After such a scathing start, she smiled sweetly in thanks to the maid who passed her a platter of fresh warm bread and local cheese for her repast, then glowered back at me.

We two boys laugh, which is unfair of us, as, by the look on her face, she believes we are not only making light of a serious matter but making fun of her. Hugh starts the laughing off with a suppressed titter but he can hardly contain himself not to tell her all, and I cannot help laughing at his attempts to contain himself.

“I am sorry, Lady Elinor,” I say, “we both have the giggles at the moment. I assure you that we are not laughing at you, only at the humour of the situation and our happy solution. Please understand, that this is the first time we have been on our own, Hugh and I, having this adventure, and Hugh cannot contain his enthusiasm.”

“So,” she looks at me with fire in her eyes, “the oaf Henry has gone back to your father’s manor?”

“Aye, the Castle, at Bartown.”

“Well, I don’t know this part of the country at all, but what do you expect him to do about my problem?”

“Nothing, he has enough on his plate at the moment. I don’t want him to go on a wild goose chase across the countryside looking for us when we are in a completely different country.”

“So, your father has other occupations too pressing to concern himself about his son? Will he not worry about you?”

“Yes, of course, he’s my father.”

“I don’t hold much with fathers,” she muttered, “though I suppose you are still boys not yet men. What do you both do, when you are not roaming aimlessly about the countryside interfering with divers members of the nobility?”

“I suppose we may look like wastrels to one born to wealth and privilege, who does nothing but swan about the countryside and count their jewels in their banker’s vaults!”

She sat with an open mouth.

“But as you asked, my friend Hugh here is lately apprenticed to a Farrier, while I am an apprenticed Longbow maker and Fletcher.”

“Well, both honest trades—”

“And though Robin would never blow his own trumpet, he is also a maltster, a miller, an innkeeper, and such a good bowman that though he has only entered three archery competitions, he finished winning two and was beaten in the other only by his father.”