Page 3 of The Shadow of a Laird
“I want a meal and a room for the night!” It was a demand rather than a request, and his tone made the other man’s frown even deeper.
His eyes were dark with fury as he looked Gavin up and down then growled, “Well, ye’re no’ gettin’ either o’ them, ye filthy animal!” He leaned over the counter of the bar. “Get out o’ here before I throw ye out!”
Stung, Gavin pulled out his money bag and held it up. “My silver is as good as anybody else’s!” he cried. “What is wrong with you?”
The old man barked a cynical laugh. “Wrong wi’ me?” he asked in disbelief. “Listen, pal. I am a respectable man, I run a respectable establishment an’ I dinnae want or need the coin o’ some ne’er dae well that looks as though he was dragged through a hedge backward an’ stinks tae high heaven!”
At that moment, Gavin became aware that he did indeed reek of cattle manure. He had obviously stepped in some as he walked towards the village, and now his face flushed with embarrassment and shame. No wonder he was being thrown out!
A minute later he found himself backing out of the door as two hefty young men, presumably the landlord’s sons, advanced towards him threateningly. He turned and left before they could hurt him, and the old man’s voice followed him.
“An’ dinnae come back!” he roared.
There was only one tavern left in the village, and Gavin was beginning to despair. The second one had also turned him awayin the same aggressive fashion because he looked and smelled like the worst kind of vagrant imaginable. He was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, and thought his last hope would be to give a penny to one of the street urchins to go and get some food for him.
That was when he found out the horrific truth about the amount of money he had in his pouch. Instead of the handful of assorted coins he had expected, such as shillings, florins, pennies and farthings, he had only enough money for a pint of ale.
Then Gavin remembered tossing some money at Jerry. He had not looked inside the bag, merely reached in and threw a few coins at the boy, not realising that he had likely given him a few of the more valuable silver ones.
He flopped down with his back to a tree and looked across at the tavern. TheGoose and Ganderwas not a very attractive place, with a peeling painted sign and loose tiles on the roof, but beggars could not be choosers, he thought. He had tried to wash in the burn beside the village, so at least the visible parts of him were clean, but he still stank. He raised his hood over his head again.
Then he saw a bucket that was full of food scraps just by the door of the tavern. He hesitated for a moment and looked around, but there was no one in the street, so he dragged the bucket into an alley between two buildings and plunged his hand into it.
It was full of stale bread crusts, raw meat scraps, morsels of chopped vegetables and the leftovers from the diners’ plates, as well as other bits and pieces that he could not identify. At any other time, he would have considered what he was doing disgusting, but now the horrendous mixture he was eating seemed like a feast, and he devoured it.
Much of it was inedible, however, such as the rancid scraps of rotten meat, and what was edible did no more than blunt the edge of his ferocious hunger. Perhaps a pint of ale would help. A room for the night was going to be much more difficult, but he would worry about that later.
As he was stuffing the last scraps of stale bread into his mouth, he felt a kind of savage, angry humour. Less than a day ago, he had been living in the lap of luxury; he had wanted for nothing.
He had all the food he could eat, a cellar full of fine wines, and a stable full of well-bred horses. He lived in a huge castle with servants at his beck and call, he could throw as many parties as he wished and most of the young ladies in the area were vying for his attention. He was the most eligible bachelor for miles around—or at least he had been.
Now look at me, he thought,scratching in a wooden bucket for food that was only fit for pigs. Gavin was aware of what people thought of him. Lately, he had become the kind of man he hated; arrogant, rude, bad-tempered and impatient, with no consideration for the feelings of others at all. He felt no urge to change, though; it was not his fault that he had become so embittered.
He sighed and shook his head free of negative thoughts; he had to concentrate on his immediate problems.
Perhaps he could bluff his way into getting a room; he could tell them about the fall that had caused the bruise on his face and appeal to their better nature by exaggerating his injuries. After all, he spoke with an upper-class accent and his clothes still looked expensive and well-made, despite the dirt, and no one actually knew he was penniless.
Gavin stepped warily into the tavern with his hood pulled partly over his face. There was a young woman there, sweeping the floor and humming a tune to herself. She had waist-length golden brown hair and a curvy figure that Gavin thought would be the envy of many other ladies. As well as that, she was petite, almost elfin, the kind of woman who usually made him feel strong and protective. Now he just felt miserable and embarrassed.
At that moment she looked up, and Gavin saw that she had wide sky-blue eyes. She had started to smile at him, but as she saw how her expression changed to one of wariness, and she took a step backwards.
After a few seconds, however, she seemed to pull herself together. “Can I help ye?” she asked politely.
Gavin opened his mouth, about to ask for a room, before remembering that he did not have enough money to pay for it. “A cup of ale, please,” he answered. He counted out his coins and realised that he had only sixpence left to his name. He could not even buy a meal and another cup of beer with that.
Gavin watched as the woman fetched a pitcher of ale and a cup for him. From time to time, she peeked up at him, and he saw the kind of appreciative look he was used to receiving. It made him feel a little better.
The young woman handed him his drink and he sipped it gratefully. It tasted like nectar and washed the taste of the leftover food from his mouth, but he realised that he would have to drink it very slowly to make it last. He could not sit in the tavern for a long time with an empty cup, and he did not wish to be thrown out into the bitter cold again before he had found somewhere to stay.
Presently, an overweight, balding middle-aged man entered the room and moved towards the young woman threateningly. He was dirty, unkempt and obviously drunk, and his ugly scarred face wore a furious frown. His gaze swung around to Gavin, and he flung his arm out, pointing at him.
“Did you gie him that beer for nothin’?” he asked angrily. “If ye did, he’s out on his ear! I am havin’ nae beggars here!”
“No, I didnae!” she spat back at him. “He paid for it fair an’ square! An’ he paid for a plate o’ mutton stew an’ a’!”
She looked over at Gavin and gave him a look that said,say nothing.
The man glared at Gavin, then growled and shambled out.
