Page 32 of Sins of a Scot
They continued for several hours with little conversation. He imagined it was partly to do with the earlier quarrel, and partly to do with the fact that they were both now waning after their disturbed and uncomfortable rest the previous night.
Let’s hope there are rooms in this tavern we’re heading tae.
Darkness had long since fallen when they arrived at the main village of John o’ Groats, and the wind was bitterly cold as they ventured toward the pinnacle coast of Scotland.
“God, that wind would cut ye in two,” Owen shivered, pulling his plaid tighter around his shoulders.
Iseabail, shivering and huddled into her heavy cloak, cast him a glance. Her nose was red, and her skin pale. “Let’s find this tavern and get intae the heat.”
The Anchoragewas not difficult to find. It was also heaving with people. In fact, as Owen pushed his way through to try and speak to the inn-keeper, he feared they would be spending another night out in the awful conditions of mother nature.
“Dae ye have a room?” he said loudly to the older man behind the bar. He had to shout to make himself heard over the many loud conversations of all those around about him. There was music playing somewhere too, which sounded great, but was hardly helpful under the circumstances.
The inn-keeper waved Owen further down the bar and pulled a ledger from beneath it. Flicking to a page, he eyed Owen. “Ye’re in luck. I have one left.”
“Good. We’ll take it,” Owen replied quickly, nearly worried that someone might come up the back of him and nab it before he had a chance.
“Just the one night?” the inn-keeper asked.
“Aye. Fer now, at any rate.”
A minute later, Owen had the key to the room tightly in his grasp, and battling through the bodies, he found Iseabail surrounded by many men, all giving her much of their attention. She was handling herself well, and knowing what she was capable of, Owen wasn’t exactly worried, but he did feel something else. A feeling that he didn’t experience very often.
Are ye actually jealous?
And examining the feeling, he realized that he was.
Huh!
He waved a hand to catch Iseabail’s attention, and upon seeing him, she excused herself and moved through the crowd toward him.
Owen bent down near her ear and she leaned in closely so that she could hear his words over the surrounding noise. “We were lucky.” He jingled the key. “We got the last room.”
“Oh, thank all the gods fer that. I dinnae think I could have done another night in an abandoned cottage.”
Following the inn-keeper’s instructions, Owen led the way to their room. It was on the top floor, in the attic space, which, Owen thought, served them better, for the higher they went, the less noise they could hear from the tavern itself.
A large fire blazed in the center of the room, and both Owen and Iseabail headed directly toward it. “Och, that feels so good,” she said, holding her hands out to the flickering flames.
“I will go back down and have food sent up tae us. I dinnae ken about ye, but I’m starving.”
Iseabail surprised him with a smile, especially after the cold shoulder she had been giving him all day. “Well, I’m afraid that’s what happens when ye give the rest o’ the food we had tae a poor dog. But I’m nae complaining. He needed it far more than we.”
“I agree,” Owen said, feeling glad he had managed to at least do something right so far on this trip. “Right. I’ll be back shortly.”
When the food arrived, they ate in silence, more because they were both famished. The thick stew was hot and tasty, and the fresh bread that accompanied it was delicious. Afterward, theytook their time sipping at their ale, while once more, sitting beside the fire.
“We shouldnae waste the rest o’ the evening,” Iseabail said. “There are many men down there, though I didnae see any with a brown hat and feather. But he might nae be wearing it indoors. Who kens, maybe the trader is here at this very minute.”
“Even if he isnae,” Owen nodded, “one o’ the local men might kent where we can find him. By the sounds of that merchant, he’s likely tae be a regular traveler through these parts. Someone likely kens something.”
“Agreed.”
“Fine. Let’s finish these drinks, and then go and get ourselves another one downstairs.”
But they discovered, once they joined the rowdy crowd in the tavern, that most of the men that were there, were not actually locals, but travelers, journeying to and from the Orkney Isles. Worse than that, any of those that they asked about the merchant didn’t seem to have any information that might help them. In fact, most of them had neither heard of him nor had seen him.
“This is a complete waste o’ time,” Owen hissed, as they stood together near the wall beside the fireplace.
