Estevan turned to look at Anaxandra, who was flushing a deep red color.She’s embarrassed,he thought. Perhaps coming into the merchant stall had been a mistake. He certainly hadn’t meant to embarrass her.
“M’laird,” the merchant said, catching his attention, “something like this would be quite nice for the lady.”
He held up a gold chain, delicate, with a gorgeous cross pendant on the end of it. The cross was inlaid with small, slender garnets, giving it a rather “bloody cross” look, but it was a stunning piece. Momentarily forgetting Anaxandra’s embarrassment, Estevan took the cross and held it up to the light.
“How much do ye want for it?” he asked.
The merchant didn’t want to blow the sale with a big price, so he was hesitant to answer at first. “It is of great quality,” he said. “I purchased it in London from a man who brought it all the way from Rome. If the lady likes it, I will give ye a good price.”
“I like it. How much?”
“Two pounds?”
“Sold.”
It happened so fast. Estevan gave the man his money and immediately turned to Anaxandra, putting the necklace around her neck. Before she knew it, he was pulling her out of the shop and into the tavern next door. Anaxandra was trying to look at the necklace, so much so that she didn’t watch where she was going. She plowed into a man near the tavern entry and ended up splashing his ale all over his chest.
“Clumsy chit!” the man shouted, cuffing her on the shoulder. “Watch where ye’re going!”
Anaxandra didn’t have a chance to respond. Estevan was there and the man went flying, out into the road and landing heavily. He was out cold, and whatever remained of his drink spilled in the mud, mixing with it. Anaxandra stood rooted to the ground, eyes wide, as Estevan went after the man, grabbed him around the neck, and tossed him out into the street for a wagon or a horse to run over.
Only then did he turn back to Anaxandra.
“Come,” he said politely, as if nothing violent had just happened. “I’ll find ye something hot tae drink on this damp day.”
Anaxandra’s mouth was hanging open. He took her by the wrist again and pulled her into the tavern, which was low-ceilinged and dark. There was a fire in the hearth, a few tapers around the common room, but the windows were covered against the rain. Estevan led Anaxandra around the corner from the door to where there was a small alcove, shielded from the common room.
Unfortunately, it was occupied.
“Get out,” Estevan growled.
The lone man sitting at the table bolted up and fled. That left the cozy little alcove empty, and Estevan indicated for Anaxandra to take a seat. She looked nervous, her eyes darting about, but sat down as requested. When Estevan tried to help her remove the crossbow from her back, she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want to remove it. He finally gave up and sat down next to her.
“Although we had something tae eat before we left St. Margaret’s, I find that I’m famished,” he said. “Will ye eat something with me?”
Anaxandra didn’t answer at first. She was still looking around, craning her neck to peer into the common room. “We cannot take the time to sit and eat,” she said. “We should not even be here. You know we must return to the abbey.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “But it will take some time for them tae bring the special drink I’ll order, so we may as well eat whilst we wait.”
“Eat what?”
“Whatever they have.”
As if on cue, a serving wench walked by, a tray with cups in her hands, but Estevan grabbed her before she could get away.
“The lady and I require food,” he told her. “And I need someól. Does old Bartha still make it?”
He was referring to the owner of the tavern, the same man who was involved in The Butcher’s next door. At least, he had been involved the last time Estevan was here. Things might have changed. But the woman nodded to his question.
“Aye,” she said. “He still makes it. Let me take these cups tae the lads over there and I’ll return tae ye.”
Estevan let her go, watching her cross the common room, which wasn’t packed in spite of the people milling around outside in the damp weather. True to her word, the woman returned to him, wiping her hands off on the stained apron she wore.
“So ye require food, do ye?” she said. “’Tis a weak man who eats during the day, lad.”
She chuckled as he grinned. “True,” he said. “But ye have good food here. What’s ready?”
The woman put her hand on his shoulder, something close to an affectionate gesture. “Something tae please ye,” she said, all but ignoring Anaxandra. “Stewed beef with onion and carrots and peas. I can bring it and plenty of bread.”
