Mistress to the Crown by Isolde Martyn Read Free Book Online Page B

excitement as I trickled perfumebetween my breasts. Two hours! Must I wait two hours? Two hours to change my mind. And would I?
    Suffice to say that when I stepped into Basing Lane for my sinful meeting, my misgivings were clamouring like a flock of starlings and the what-ifs were back in abundance. But mercifully the saint of the timid and adulterous took a hand. Not only were the gates of the inn already open but a large party of horsemen was leaving.
    I slipped through without being noticed and sped across the cobbles to the front steps only to be loudly ‘ahemmed’ by a massive serving man.
    The flying phallus badge in his green hat unnerved me. Was this some kind of expensive stewhouse? His tabard bore the curious picture of a giant holding a pine tree and his hose was pied – Lincoln green and tansy, the colours of a mocking demon. I controlled the urge to cross myself.
    ‘State your business, madame!’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ I exclaimed, trying to be matter of fact, but it was hard with this fellow eyeing me with a mixture of officious sentinel and speculating pander. ‘Please give me direction to Master Ashby’s room.’
    ‘Ah.’ His massive shoulders seemed to heave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s all right then. Come this way, my lady. Can’t be too careful, see. Our customers value their privacy when they stay with us. We like them to know that they won’t have their belongings pilfered or pick up bedbugs or something more ‘orrible. Know what I mean? No rubbing shoulders with the vulgar, eh?’ Another checking stare. ‘Not been here before then, madame?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Ah, this place is full of surprises.’
    He led me along a flagstone passageway and we emerged in the centre of a round great hall. Centuries earlier it would have beenspacious and seated many, but a more recent owner had built an upstairs gallery with chambers leading off. Surrounding us were several rooms divided by oaken panelling. However, it was the trunk of a massive fir tree that the fellow wanted me to admire.
    It was indeed amazing. Cathedral dimensions! Two priests holding hands could have hugged its girth. Generations of visitors had gouged their initials, and gazing up through my veil, I made out plenty of scurrilous Latin doggerels about women that made me blush. The sauciness increased with altitude, and perhaps the ladder bolted onto the tree was entirely for that purpose. Good luck to the scribblers! It would have taken a whole firkin of wine to get me on the first rung let alone the fortieth.
    ‘Different, eh, madame?’
    ‘I suppose the tree holds up the roof?’
    ‘Aye, it does. Let me tell you, this hall belonged to one of the tallest creatures that ever walked God’s earth, Gerrard the Giant, and that there tree was the staff he used in battle. A wonder, eh?’
    ‘Gerrard the Giant?’ It would have been rude to show disbelief. I would have put my money on a monastery refectory.
    One of the doors behind me opened and yet another serving man of huge stature emerged with a cloth in hand. My escort chuckled at my astonishment.
    ‘Aye, no one small is ever employed here. Take a look through!’
    I was expecting something sordid like a daybed flung about with cushions and furs, not the silver goblets set out on the glossy buffed table. A carved chair fine enough for any nobleman stood at the end of the board between two great candleholders, and the cushioned benches would have seated a half dozen. White and red dragon heads with fiery tongues and lashing tails were painted on the walls.
    ‘These lower rooms are for guests who wish to dine privily with friends, et cetera. A lot of deals are done here, I can tell you.The Welsh like this room, because of the dragons, but we also have the unicorn, dolphin, peacock and lion chambers. The Scots always favour the unicorns. Now this way, if you please.’
    And what did mercers choose? Did my father ever come here? Lord, I hoped not. I could have sworn it was he who