Abaddon VII

The raucous laughter and loud talk were silenced by the entrance of the Princess and her Bandersnatch. Eluned surveyed the dim, smoky room with curiosity and was delighted. The rough hewn plank tables and benches and the even more roughly hewn men and women that occupied them brought a secret smile to her lips not dissimilar to that of the Mona Lisa. This is life, she thought. The air reeked of tobacco, wood smoke and human sweat. Eluned inhaled, deeply, entranced.

Jabberwock, on the other hand, was regretting his decision to stay here. We should have camped beneath the stars, he thought, observing the shocked faces of the inn’s customers. As he was wondering whether or not there would be any trouble, the innkeeper, a tall, thin man reminiscent of a great blue heron with his bushy black eyebrows, scruffy white beard and long, thin and pointed nose, rushed forward with his bright-eyed robin of a wife.

Eluned wondered if the innkeeper’s wife would awake her the following morning with an “ain’t you ‘shamed you sleepy head?” Jabberwock had often said that very thing when, during the past decade, she had nodded off over their lessons.

“Princess,” the innkeeper croaked, and then cleared his throat. “Princess, welcome.” He glanced down at Jabberwock and back at the princess, yellow eyes twitching, nervously. “Norm’ly we doesn’t allow pets, yer Highness, but,” he glanced back down at Bandersnatch and mumbled something.

“Oh, dear, dear, don’t worry,” the innkeeper’s wife twittered when she saw the lightning flash of anger in the Princess’s eyes, “o’course yer pet kin sleep wit yer. Boris, shame on yer,” she nudged her husband with a plump little hand. “Yer fergettin’ yerself and yer manners. Show’m t’ther room. More’n likely ther want’a be freshnin up afore supp.”

With little more than a backward glance at Eluned and the Bandersnatch, Boris led the couple through the still silent crowd and up the stairs at the far side of the big room. As they ascended, the talk and laughter began again, quietly at first then rising until the din was so loud, the Princess couldn’t hear herself think.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The Princess asked as she shut the door behind them. The thick walls and the heavy wooden door shut out most of the noise.

“What? And be thrown in with the horses and mules for sure!” Jabberwock scolded. “That is, if they didn’t throw me on that spit and burn me alive, and you, too, for that matter. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you can’t be a witch. Burned at the stake we’d be and no one would ever say a word! No. Sometimes it is better to keep your mouth shut.”

Eluned paled and began to survey the room. “Is this their best?” she asked, shocked. Touching the thin, straw mattress, her face paled even further. She looked as if she expected to be attacked by bed bugs. She wiped her hand on the soft, gray wool of her cloak, then spying the pitcher and wash bowl on a rickety table proceeded to wash her hands. The soap smelled strongly of lye.

“Enjoy it,” he said, his eyes snapping with amusement, “tomorrow we sleep on the ground.”

“The ground?” She was horrified.

“You wanted the adventure. I never said you would get luxury accommodations.”

“I think that I would rather sleep on the ground than in that bed.”

“Well, don’t tell the innkeeper that. You’ll insult him.” As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Eluned jumped, guiltily. But it was just Boris’s wife (Zelda, she introduced herself) wanting to know if they wished to supp in “ther room.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” Eluned said, remembering the silence and the curious, bordering on rude, stares of the country folk downstairs.

“Ale er wine?”

“Wine, please.” She was a very polite princess. Zelda bustled off. Eluned had another moment’s misgivings when she suddenly imagined Zelda arriving with a platter full of plump and juicy worms. Her fears were unfounded for the innkeeper’s wife soon returned with two heavy pottery bowls filled with thick, savoury stew, steaming, fresh-from-the-oven bread, sweet, creamy butter and an earthen jug filled with cool, spiced, red wine. The Princess hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the food was set before her. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, she had been so eager that morning to leave her prison of eighteen years behind (a castle, she reminded herself and felt a momentary guilty twinge about her devastated parents), that she had thought of doing nothing but putting one foot in front of the other for so long that not only had she forgotten to eat, breakfast or lunch, but she had had to be reminded about the gift she clasped in her hand.

“You’re salivating,” the Bandersnatch remarked when Zelda had left them to their meal.

A pretty pink tongue was directed at Jabberwock, “Phooey on you,” she replied, spooning the rich broth into her mouth.