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GARTY GAZES AT HIS fresh haircut.
“I remember now. Kiano, was one family involved with a baby.”
A customer arrived.
“Morning Wallop,” Trink said. “Please take a pew.”
Wallop, an elderly man with unkempt hair and a “skunk” stubble, sat to wait for Trink’s attention. Trink passes him the local paper. Wallop nods thanks.
Garty hands Trink three groats.
“That is more than sufficient!”
“I am a new man.”
Garty wondered why gypsies stole a child? No ransom was made.
Their motives were not clear. But he felt certain the travelers were involved.
He is free to return to work.
Mrs. Bouchée prepared a hearty lunch of baked bread, local fish from the river running near the town. Greens grown in the lower valley. There was also the obligatory apple juice. She reserved a table with a perfect view of the street.
His notes were contained in a ledger. It was choked with papers and notes. He had a myriad of sketches to compare. That is now more confusing.
A tired man lay down for an afternoon nap.
He visits his horse Brill in the evening. Garty pats his stallion’s neck.
“This will prove a rewarding exercise. I feel certain.”
Brill shakes his mane.
“You will feel breeze in your mane, Brill. Tomorrow, we ride.”
The Farrier has been busy. New horse shoes.
“These are borrowed, yours are permanent.”
Another bill.
He retreats to his chamber.
The velvet bag felt a lot lighter these days.
Bills were mounting up.
Maud will not take promissory notes, of that he is almost certain.
Garty rubs his forehead and shuts down. He detects the evening meals’ aromas filtering through the building and calling him to dine.
“Well, tomorrow is another day. I shall rethink everything then!”
A bell sounds and closes the shining brass buttons on his breast jacket. His hair and face looked respectable. The barber did him justice.
“You are a handsome fellow.”
Closing his door, he locks it.
Garty enjoyed his evening meal. He devoured a hearty crusty vegetable pie with delicious apple crumble for dessert. He took a complimentary newspaper, walked to his room, where he removed his outer garments and snuggled into his comfortable chair to contemplate the local stories.
Later, he covered himself with the eiderdown in the chair.
Garty awoke to a loud knocking. What happened? He throws off the eiderdown, stretching to move his body parts. He pulls the curtain open. It’s dawn. What is happening? How long has he slept? He throws his cape over his shabby woolen undergarment and bare chest. He swings open the door.
“What’s the problem?” He asks Droop, the young servant in livery.
“The problem, Sir? Boss lady says you are to hightail to the foyer immediately. Townsfolk want you.”
“Of course. Tell her I shall come.”
Garty pulls his breeches and boots on, and slicks his hair into shape. Remembers to lock his door. Garty pops the key onto his belt, next to his pistol.
When he is nearing reception, he halts. The night lamp is still lit. He steps back. The room is filled. Maud, the inn’s owner, is writing names; offering drinks to those with money to spend.
“There you are Mr. Garty! About time! The audience is waiting for you.”
“Whatever for?” Though he suspects what they want!
She snaps up a newspaper, levels it at his face.
“See the word ‘reward’...”
She puts the paper down on her shiny surface.
“Everyone knows about the stolen princess. See what you’ve done?”
Her lips purse, and her eyes blacken.
She looks angry, Garty notes with a tinge of fear.
“I am apologetic. I honor you for your capability.”
“We can manage, but it’s unexpected!”
She stares just like a mother superior, holding a handful of used vessels.
“This must be good for business!”
Garty sees the patrons, drinking cider, juice, coffee and milky drinks. Along with slices of baked apple pie and crisp pastries.
Maud makes a gurgling sound in her throat.
“Not if they are thieves and robbers! How can I control what they do or where they wander? There are too many!”
Garty backs away a smidgen.
“I will take care of bills and breakages.”
He moves into the melee.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen, I will have an interview with each one of you, but you must keep order in this respectable establishment.”
He glances around, fathoming how they may manage the impending surge. o
“I shall be here, Mrs. Bouchée. If you will, please take each person’s identity, as you are an expert.”
“Certainly.”
Her voice resonated throughout the room.
“Pick a seat on the bench. First comers line up here.”
She shows her reception area and the dividing line.
Folk are working out the process as a buzz erupts. Quick as a flash, a line has formed of four people near reception. Others sit outside.
Garty sets up an appropriate interview hub, an arm’s length from those waiting. He ponders if his velvet purse will survive the tarrif. A trainee waiter approaches Garty.
“For you.”
He holds a serving tray with coffee, juice, and toast with melted butter and honey.
“Appreciated, Dandy.”
Another addition to my bill, Garty notes methodically.