IV

 

 

 

BY THE TIME AILLAS COMPLETED HIS TRANSACTIONS ALONG THE LAKESHORE the time was late afternoon. All wind had left the sky; the lake lay flat as a mirror, with each of the islands reflected in duplicate below.

After considering sky, lake and landscape, Aillas told Tatzel: “It seems that we must entrust ourselves to the mercies of the voracious Dildahl. Restraint may be necessary, since I carry no large store of coins on my person. What of you?”

“I have nothing.”

“With ordinary caution, we should fare well enough, even though there is something about Dildahl which arouses my distrust.”

The two presented themselves to the common room of Kernuun’s Antler, where Dildahl, now attired in a white apron and a white cap which to some extent confined his long black locks, seemed gratified to see them. “For a time I thought that you had decided to proceed on your way.”

“We transacted a trifle of business, and then remembered the comforts of the Antler. Hence, you see us now.”

“So be it! I can offer a suite of rooms customarily occupied by the most august of the druids, complete with baths of warm water and soap of olive oil, should you feel inclined to a measure of luxury—”

“Still at a cost of two copper pennies? If so—”

“There is a substantial difference in the rate,” said Dildahl.

Aillas felt in his wallet and rattled the few coins which he found there. “We must moderate our desires to our means. I would not wish to lodge and dine like a priest and then find myself embarrassed when it came time to pay the tally.”

Dildahl said: “In this regard, I usually insist that unreferenced guests post a declaration of surety with me, just precisely to avoid any awkward dilemmas. Please sign this paper.” So saying, Dildahl tendered a sheet of good parchment inscribed in a fine hand with the notification:

 

Be It Hereby Known That I, Who am the undersigned, now propose to take food and lodging for myself and my entourage at that inn known as Kernuun’s Antler, of which the Honourable Dildahl is the landlord. I agree to pay the proper and designated charges for chamberage, and also for such food and drink as may be consumed by me and my entourage. As surety for the payment of these charges, I offer those horses now in my possession, together with their saddles, bridles, and other furniture. If I do not pay the charges stipulated on the account rendered by Dildahl said horses and adjuncts become the property of Dildahl in fee whole and simple.

 

Aillas frowned. “This declaration has a somewhat menacing tone.”

“It could alarm only a person who planned to avoid payment of his debt. Are you this sort of person? If so, I have no interest in placing before you the goods of my kitchen and the comforts of my rooms.”

“That is fairly said,” remarked Aillas. “However, I could not sleep well unless I added a small proviso. Give me your pen.”

“What do you intend to write?” demanded Dildahl in suspicion.

“You shall see.” Aillas inscribed an addendum:

 

This document shall not be held to encompass the clothes worn by Aillas and his companion, nor their weapons, personal effects, ornaments, wine-sacks, keepsakes or other possessions.

Aillas of Troicinet

 

Dildahl scrutinized the addendum, shrugged, and placed the parchment under the counter. “Come; I will show you to your chamber.”

Dildahl took them to a pair of large pleasant rooms with windows overlooking the lake, and a separate bathroom. Aillas asked: “For these rooms the charge is two pennies?”

“Of course not!” declared Dildahl in astonishment. “I understood that you wished to test the luxury of the Antler!”

“Only at a price of two pennies.”

Dildahl scowled. “The cheap chamber is dank, and furthermore is not ready.”

“Dildahl, if you wish to hold me to payment of my account, then I must hold you to the charges quoted by you.”

“Bah!” muttered Dildahl, drooping his loose lower lip to show a purple maw. “For my own convenience, you may occupy these rooms for three pennies.”

“Please render that quotation in writing, here and now, to avoid later misunderstanding.” Then, as he watched Dildahl writing: “No, no! Not three pennies apiece! Three pennies in total!”

“You are a troublesome guest,” muttered Dildahl. “There is little profit in serving such as you.”

“A man can spend only what he can afford! If he over-reaches, he loses his horses!”

Dildahl only grunted. “When will you dine?”

“As soon as we freshen ourselves in this convenient bath.”

“For such a price, I include no hot water.”

“Ah well! Since we have incurred your displeasure, cold water must be our lot!”

Dildahl turned away. “It is only your petty frugality which I find reprehensible.”

“I hope you will instruct us in the ways of open-handed bounty when we take our supper.”

“We shall see,” said Dildahl.

At supper the two sat alone in the common room except for a pair of brown-cloaked druids bending low over their food in a corner of the room. They finished their meal and came to the counter to pay the score. Aillas strolled across the room and stood by as each laid down a copper penny and departed.

Dildahl was somewhat annoyed by Aillas’ proximity to the transaction. “Well then? What will you eat?”

“What is on your board tonight?”

“The lentil soup is burned, and is off.”

“The druids appeared to be eating fine brown trout. You may fry us a pair of these, with a salad of cress and garden stuff. What were the druids eating in their side dish?”

“That was my specialty: crayfish tails with eggs and mustard.”

“You may also serve us such a side dish, with some good bread and butter, and perhaps a fruit conserve.”

Dildahl bowed. “At your order. Will you drink wine?”

“You may bring us a flask of whatever wine you deem a good value for the price, but at all times, please keep our parsimony in mind. We are as niggardly as druids.”

Aillas and Tatzel were served a dinner with which they could find no fault and Dildahl seemed almost civil. Tatzel eyed him with foreboding. “He seems to be making a large number of marks on his board.”

“He can mark until doomsday for all of me. If he becomes insolent, you need only announce that you are Lady Tatzel of Castle Sank, and instantly he will moderate his manner. I know his kind.”

“I thought that I was now Tatzel the slave-girl.”

Aillas chuckled. “True! Your protests might not carry weight, after all.”

The two retired and went to their couches; the night passed without incident.

In the morning they ate a breakfast of porridge, bacon and eggs. Aillas then, counting on his fingers, arrived at what he considered a fair reckoning for the hospitality provided by Dildahl: a sum of ten copper pennies, or a silver half-florin.

Aillas went to the counter to pay the score; here Dildahl, rubbing his hands briskly together, presented him a statement of charges, the grand total of which was three silver florins and fourpence.

Aillas laughed and tossed back the statement. “I do not even intend to argue with you. Here is a silver half-florin, with an extra two pennies because the mustard was good. I now offer you this sum in payment; will you accept it?”

“Certainly not!” declared Dildahl, his face flushing red and his lax lower lip drooping.

“Then I will take the money back, and we will bid you good-day.”

“Do you think to alarm me?” roared Dildahl. “I have your pledge at this moment next to my very hand! You have refused to pay my charges; therefore I claim ownership of your horses.”

Aillas and Tatzel turned away from the counter. “Claim all you like,” said Aillas. “I own no horses. Yesterday, before our arrival, I traded them for a boat. Dildahl, farewell!”