Read Online The Curse of Salamander Street by G.P. Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: G.P. Taylor
Ads: Link
doorway.
‘You will have a room for the night?’ Barghast enquired of them. Beadle noticed that beneath the long black cloak he carried a leather bag.
‘Barn will be good for us. Plenty of straw for a night’s sleep and why spoil yourself for a fleapit of a coaching inn?’ Beadle replied, as if a cantor.
Barghast didn’t speak, his gaze drawn to the pack of dogs that now clambered up on his approach. Suddenly, the lead hound bolted to its feet and stared at Barghast, its legs trembling as if before some old adversary. The dog growled and rumbled as it bared its teeth and snarled. One by one its pack followed on, each hound arching its hackled back like a frightened cat and pacing away from the man.
Barghast walked on, ignoring the beasts as their whining changed from snarls to baying howls. ‘Dogs,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Can’t see why such a fuss is made of them. Man’s best friend? Good eating, that’s what I say.’ He cackled, pulling the cloak tighter and lifting the bag he carried with his other hand.
Raphah walked to the hounds and patted one gently upon its forehead. ‘If only you could speak,’ Raphah said to the hound under his breath as it licked his hand, shaking with excitement. ‘Perhaps you could tell us more of this man than we would want to know.’
‘Do you have rooms?’ Barghast shouted at the drunk as he kicked away his stool and watched him crash to the floor in an ungainly heap. ‘Rooms? For sleeping?’
‘Full,’ said the man awkwardly as he stared up from the ground at the black-clad figure that towered over him like a hawk. ‘To the brim. Three coaches from York and one from Peveril, can’t fit ’em all in.’
‘Then I suggest you go inside and turf someone from their bed so that I can have a night’s sleep,’ Barghast growled at the man, dropping his bag to the floor and taking off his cape.
‘Tell ’em yourself and not one will budge, not even for the devil himself,’ the man replied, awash with ale and ready to fight.
Barghast knelt over the man and for several moments whispered in his ear as he held him by the scruff of his collar. Beadle watched as his lips moved and incanted the words and saw a change in the man’s face.
‘Very well,’ the man said feebly as Barghast lifted him to his feet. ‘That’ll be done.’
It was as if the drink had suddenly left him. Gone was his gurgling of discontentment and venomous face. The man sucked in his guts and tightened his belt as he stepped across the threshold and into the inn. Barghast followed on, dragging his cape and bag behind him.
‘We have rooms – at my expense. You will be my guests,’ the man said as he waved for them to follow.
‘I have money for the both of us,’ Beadle protested.
‘But not enough when there is no room at the inn,’ Barghast insisted.
Raphah nodded to go along with the man as he pushed Beadle forward. ‘Don’t worry, Beadle. This is no chance meeting. For now we do what he desires,’ Raphah whispered, stepping over the threshold.
As they walked into the hallway they could hear the frantic conversations that filled the downstairs rooms. From the large front parlour with its raging fire and strong smell of burning pine needles came the hubble-bubble of a gathering of men who clustered together. They stilled their chatter to hushed voices as Barghast led Beadle and Raphah ever onwards. They traipsed behind the old drunk, slowly leaving behind the night chill as the house warmed them like a garment.
To one side of the hallway was a large kitchen; the door was open and a black oven range steamed in the candlelight. Beadle looked in and saw a maid, who gave a soft smile as she hurriedly pulled a pair of jerkins from the drying rack and folded them neatly. The old drunk beckoned them on; he apologised underhis breath for the lack of rooms and said that if he’d realised Barghast was in the district he would have made better the accommodation.
They tramped
‘You will have a room for the night?’ Barghast enquired of them. Beadle noticed that beneath the long black cloak he carried a leather bag.
‘Barn will be good for us. Plenty of straw for a night’s sleep and why spoil yourself for a fleapit of a coaching inn?’ Beadle replied, as if a cantor.
Barghast didn’t speak, his gaze drawn to the pack of dogs that now clambered up on his approach. Suddenly, the lead hound bolted to its feet and stared at Barghast, its legs trembling as if before some old adversary. The dog growled and rumbled as it bared its teeth and snarled. One by one its pack followed on, each hound arching its hackled back like a frightened cat and pacing away from the man.
Barghast walked on, ignoring the beasts as their whining changed from snarls to baying howls. ‘Dogs,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Can’t see why such a fuss is made of them. Man’s best friend? Good eating, that’s what I say.’ He cackled, pulling the cloak tighter and lifting the bag he carried with his other hand.
Raphah walked to the hounds and patted one gently upon its forehead. ‘If only you could speak,’ Raphah said to the hound under his breath as it licked his hand, shaking with excitement. ‘Perhaps you could tell us more of this man than we would want to know.’
‘Do you have rooms?’ Barghast shouted at the drunk as he kicked away his stool and watched him crash to the floor in an ungainly heap. ‘Rooms? For sleeping?’
‘Full,’ said the man awkwardly as he stared up from the ground at the black-clad figure that towered over him like a hawk. ‘To the brim. Three coaches from York and one from Peveril, can’t fit ’em all in.’
‘Then I suggest you go inside and turf someone from their bed so that I can have a night’s sleep,’ Barghast growled at the man, dropping his bag to the floor and taking off his cape.
‘Tell ’em yourself and not one will budge, not even for the devil himself,’ the man replied, awash with ale and ready to fight.
Barghast knelt over the man and for several moments whispered in his ear as he held him by the scruff of his collar. Beadle watched as his lips moved and incanted the words and saw a change in the man’s face.
‘Very well,’ the man said feebly as Barghast lifted him to his feet. ‘That’ll be done.’
It was as if the drink had suddenly left him. Gone was his gurgling of discontentment and venomous face. The man sucked in his guts and tightened his belt as he stepped across the threshold and into the inn. Barghast followed on, dragging his cape and bag behind him.
‘We have rooms – at my expense. You will be my guests,’ the man said as he waved for them to follow.
‘I have money for the both of us,’ Beadle protested.
‘But not enough when there is no room at the inn,’ Barghast insisted.
Raphah nodded to go along with the man as he pushed Beadle forward. ‘Don’t worry, Beadle. This is no chance meeting. For now we do what he desires,’ Raphah whispered, stepping over the threshold.
As they walked into the hallway they could hear the frantic conversations that filled the downstairs rooms. From the large front parlour with its raging fire and strong smell of burning pine needles came the hubble-bubble of a gathering of men who clustered together. They stilled their chatter to hushed voices as Barghast led Beadle and Raphah ever onwards. They traipsed behind the old drunk, slowly leaving behind the night chill as the house warmed them like a garment.
To one side of the hallway was a large kitchen; the door was open and a black oven range steamed in the candlelight. Beadle looked in and saw a maid, who gave a soft smile as she hurriedly pulled a pair of jerkins from the drying rack and folded them neatly. The old drunk beckoned them on; he apologised underhis breath for the lack of rooms and said that if he’d realised Barghast was in the district he would have made better the accommodation.
They tramped
Similar Books
