The Thief and Prince

Chapter 6: The Prancin' Pony

After Crispin and Amiri had left, Laria and I sat around camp for about thirty minutes, fuming at their assumptions that we would warm their beds so easily, that is, until our hunger became too strong we decided to head into Ipswitch ourselves.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to ourselves, we ditch our armor and settle for medium sized tunics and tights. I can tell Laria didn't appreciate not having the protection of her heavy armor but knowing it was necessary she keeps quiet. Unhitching the horses and swiping the coin pouches that King Robert gave us, we head into town with the setting sun to our backs.

It takes us about a half hour to get there, and when we do the sky has grown dark. The streets are lit with lanterns and small fires contained in round tin barrels, casting warm glows throughout the town. People stroll about, some giving us odd looks every now and then as they sweep their porches or loiter in the streets. Considering that they aren't lingering on us though, I assume that they must get the occasional passerby quite often and find myself relaxing.

There are a few shops still open such as a bakery and a butcher, but we decide to just buy our items in the morning seeing that will be easier. The smell of mud and pig shit fills the air as we turn down a cobblestone road and at the end we see the two pristine horses that belong to Crispin and Amiri that are hitched to a post. Above them sways an iron sign that reads "The Prancin' Pony" and by the loud music coming from inside I immediately know that it's the local tavern.

Laria sighs and turns to me, shaking her head. "I really wish they would have found game earlier," she says, referring to the fact that now we have to eat a sopping meal from a pub.

Looking around at the tall crooked brick buildings, I can't help but get a homey feeling about the place. If it smelled better, perhaps it would be a lovely place to settle down in. "Me too," I lie, enjoying that we have something else to do tonight other than sit around a fire and listen to Amiri and Crispin spout innuendos or boast about women. It gets old fast.

We slowly trot over to the other two horses and hitch ours to the left. Sliding down, my boots land in a small puddle of mud and some splashes onto Laria's. Giving her a cheesy "I'm sorry" grin, and she gives me a forgiving nod before we make our way inside.

As soon as the door opens, I'm hit with a mixture of sweat, spirits, and musk. It's clear that this is mainly a place where the men come to commune given that out of the forty or so occupants, only eleven are women—not including the two barmaids.

At one of the long wooden tables that stretch from one side of the tavern to the other, I see Crispin and Amiri laughing over two metal tankards. Two women who are fairly decent looking sit across from them, giggling and blushing at something they said.

Shaking my head, Laria and I share a look and take a seat on the opposite side of the tavern by the hearth which roars with life. There are a group of men sitting a few feet down from us, their eyes drinking in our bodies at the thrill of having two female visitors. Laria gives them a scowl and turns her back to them, a small grimace still on her face.

"This place is too crowded for my liking," she mutters.

A chuckle escapes from me and I nod my head, "Let's just eat and get out of here as soon as we can, yeah?" I suggest, making eye contact with the red headed barmaid to signal her over here. She smiles at me and heads over, her wide hips swaying with each step. A middle aged man with greying brown hair slaps her rear but she pays no mind to him, used to the way men must treat her here. It's despicable really, but seeing as that she doesn't seem to care I suppose I have no place to either.

When she gets to our end of the table, she places each palm face down and leans in, displaying her ample pale cleavage. "What can I get for ya lass?" she asks me.