One for Sorrow

Chapter Thirty-one

In the first light of morning, the Inn of the Centaurs lay quiet save for a repetitive dripping, a reminder of the previous night’s storms and the roof’s woeful lack of repair. So it was that Mistress Kaloethes, prodding the embers in the kitchen brazier, was immediately alerted by the creak of leather and heavy footsteps to the passing of someone down the hallway. She looked out.

“Thomas!”

Caught at the door of the inn, he turned with apparent reluctance, his face growing as red as his hair.

“Mistress Kaloethes! I thought everyone would be sleeping this early. I was trying to leave quietly. Not permanently, of course,” he added, flustered. “You can see I haven’t got my baggage. I’ll pay you in advance.” He fumbled at the pouch on his belt.

The innkeeper’s wife emitted a piercing laugh. Her chubby face was as red as Thomas’ beard. Her bright color stemmed not from embarrassment but from her customary liberal application of rouge.

“Your word is good here, Thomas. It’s a pleasure to have a guest of your quality. An emissary from a king’s court. Some of our other guests, well, they’re not the sort I prefer. But I hope you can draw your sword more quickly than coins from your pouch!” She gave another loud laugh.

“I hope so, for I am trained in war, not commerce, lady.”

“Lady? Well, well, you are a silver-tongued rogue!”

“My apologies, but I really must be on my way.”

“Always out and about, aren’t you?”

“Constantinople is a most interesting city.”

“Have you seen the old soothsayer in your travels?”

“Ahasuerus? Not this morning. Is he causing you trouble?”

Mistress Kaloethes waggled a fat finger in Thomas’ face. “I’m not the sort who would disparage my guests, Thomas, but let’s just say he eats like a winning horse at the Hippodrome but pays like a loser.”

“He’s an old man. Just forgetful. If I see him I’ll remind him about his debts.” Thomas backed out the door. Mistress Kaloethes watched him make his way hastily across the gleaming puddles in the courtyard.

He exchanged greetings with the innkeeper who was staggering in, burdened with a large sack.

As soon as Kaloethes was indoors, his wife fell into his wake, a plump dolphin pacing a trireme. She did not, however, emulate the dolphin’s traditional bestowal of good fortune.

“How did it go? A good night?”

Master Kaloethes dropped his sack on the kitchen table.

“Well?” His wife persisted shrilly. “I expect that swindler of a tax collector will be back with his hand out again today.”

“People have been celebrating. They’ve spent a lot. They don’t have much left.” The innkeeper wiped away the sweat on his forehead with his meaty hand. New beads popped out immediately. His sack, which had not lightened during his rounds, was exceedingly heavy, stuffed with everything from saints’ bones to kitchen utensils.

“So? You spoke to a lot of people?”

“People are tired after the celebrations. They have headaches, bellyaches. Give me some wine.”

She ignored his request. “They were interested in your wares, though?”

“No,” he snapped, wearily sitting down to engulf a stool beside the kitchen’s open window.

“You fool, you missed your chance!”

“People say a lot of things, but when it comes to parting with good money, that’s a different matter.”

“I hope those ruffians you pay to help out have better luck selling to the gullible, otherwise you can have the pleasure of talking to the tax collector.”

Kaloethes picked up one of the polishing rags his wife had been using and wiped his forehead. “Sometimes I wish I’d never got mixed up with that bunch. Who knows what they’re up to? Look, this collector’s new to this quarter, isn’t he? Do you think he’d accept a gift?”

“He might. On the other hand, he might tell the prefect.”

The ensuing silence was filled by the sound of the water that dripped steadily from a spot near the middle of the ceiling.

“The place is falling to ruin,” wailed Mistress Kaloethes. “And now we have guests who don’t pay. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Keep fewer silks in your chest, for a start.”

Mistress Kaloethes’ porcine eyes glared. “Those are necessary. If you aspire to deal with the better classes you must dress to their standards.”

“It’s all very well to aspire to standards but I still say we should keep a few girls upstairs. There’s always a market for the natural pleasures.”

“I wouldn’t call what some of them get up to natural! I’d never stoop to that kind of business anyway.”

“Naturally I wouldn’t expect it of you personally.”

“I should think not! I left the theater a long time ago. And besides, how do you think you’d compete with the Whore of Babylon next door?”

“She isn’t next door.”

“Well, she’s near enough so I can hear that dreadful contraption of hers moaning whenever I set foot in the courtyard.”

“I’ve been exploring possibilities with some of her girls.”

“Exploring possibilities? A nice phrase to use to your wife. You ought to plead in the courts of law. I suppose you think I don’t know you’ve been over there?”

“As I just told you, I’ve been talking to several of the girls about moving here.”

“How dare you insult me by even considering bringing those disgusting whores to live under our roof! You’ll ruin what little reputation I have left, you bastard!”

Mistress Kaloethes grabbed a plate and her husband raised his hands to fend off flying tableware.