Thomas arrived at the Bear Pit Inn just after sunrise. He stepped over two drunks and slid on a patch of their vomit, doing the splits. The cackling of an old hag was familiar-looking round and gathering his dignity, he saw the old lady was eel boiler he had met on his first visit.
She laughed again as if she saw something else he had missed- he checked his head and pants-she still laughed as she wrestled eels into her cauldron.
Thomas kicked the waking drunks out of the threshold of the inn and went to find his sister and breakfast.
The inn was in a disasterous state- more than he rememebered but maybe he was seeing it afresh in the horizontal glare of a sunrise..still, the damage was more likened to those inns he and his fellows in arms had occupied in France.
Blood lay on a barrel. Not the casual splash of a punched nose- but deep and dark and thick.There was more up the heavy sack cloth that made do as a room division when barmaids offered customers personal favours.
Thomas drew his dagger and stepped carefully to the stair. He walked on the edge of the treads as he had been taught- and now he leapt silently to the landing. There was no sound save the crack of one log on the fire below. He found Old Tom first- hunched over as if in prayer- dead. He was still limp like a fresh fish. Thomas' heart raced . He found his sister's room. Hardly thinking of the consequence he called her name and ran in ready for battle. But the room was empty and the bed tidy.
He searched her guardrobe- all her heavy clothes had gone and so was her chest. He ran from room to room and each was empty. Every fellow had departed-except for Old Tom, dead and barely cold.
Suddenly a guttoral cry of alarm went up- "Murder murder ! Help in the name of God!"
As Thomas stood dagger ready, one of the drunks now pointed directly at him, his finger in accusation,
"Be quiet you fool!" retorted Thomas; but it was too late. The drunk fell back down the stairs and was knocked out cold-as in witness his erstwhile fellow drunkard now took up the alarm and ran outside.
Thomas followed and encountered the small crowd who, as if bewitched, took up pitchforks,billets and spades to chase him down. Thomas had no time to think and was forced to run blindly into any alley and gap and leap any small fence to escape their bloodlust.
Thomas found himself at the river's edge- looking down into a slimy slope-a morass of crap and fish guts that gave this shore an odour like nowhere he had ever been. The other shore was illuminated by the sun glowing on the white stone walls of the great tower. Thomas had but a second and made a decision- he jumped onto a skiff and as the owner fell into pursuit, Thomas paddled toward the tower.
Fearful of arrows and a good spear that might strike him down, Thomas kept looking back-but none such came-only stones were thrown in his direction. As the shore came closer he could see figures some two hundred yards running across the bridge. He knew he would now have to find a horse to escape- and there was no going back to the Bear Pit Inn.
So it was that Thomas stole a fine bay horse and rode westwards along the shoreline until he crossed the river at low tide on the weir. As the sun turned into his face he found a shaded place to rest. His horse drank deep and her flanks were flecked with sweat. He stroked her muzzle-she had saved his life. Thomas felt hungry and then came the shock. His bag of coin had fallen off his belt.
In amongst some willows he saw a small house of timber and reed thatch. He could hear a female voice. Thomas pulled out his bow and strung it.Leading the horse to a thicket for concealment, Thomas changed his jerkin. He pulled out the quartered red and white chemise that distinguished him as a King's archer; then wiping his brow of road dirt, he strode whistling toward the house and the merry tinkle of the female voice.
"Hold fast!" came a strong voice, "Lay down your arms or by God you shall feel this blade in your back"
The voice was the sort that Thomas knew had been in command; the command of death or life given to men in battle. Thomas obeyed and stated his purpose. He felt the shadow of a large man fall upon his shoulder. The man told him to turn round, then a ruddy,thick face of older years demanded,
"You wear the colour of my lord- where did you fight?"
"Agincourt" said Thomas
"How are you skulking like a thief then upon my family?"
"Father! "
A slender girl of late teens appeared. Her voice was the one Thomas had heard first. She had a powder blue dress that clung to her hips- her face was sun blushed and her hair a red gold.
"I beg for the intrusion but I have had cause to be on guard since my return to our land" said Thomas, with more pleaded to the girl than her father.
"You may rest a while- but you must leave before nightfall" said the father
The girl announced her name as Esmeralda. She and her father lived alone. The two crosses in the small field by the river were her mother and dead baby brother lost in childbirth.
Thomas exchanged stories of France with the father. He had himself fought in an earlier campaign and knew the names and lands that Thomas recalled. They drank until late-and ate a whole suckling pig. The father drank too much- to forget the good times recounted round the hearth.
Thomas fell into the straw and feather filled cot. Esmeralda blew out the candles. As the night birds called along the dark river, Esmeralda climbed atop Thomas and raised his shirt.It was a night that made him forget the chase from London-but a night that would be followed by a day far worse.
