As he lay there on his stomach, loaded bow in hand, outside in the dark, a tremendous storm was gathering unbeknownst to most, except the weather-wise. Even Morgause of Orkney could not avoid the icy, drenching rain that opened up and poured like buckets, turning the roadbed into a mucky mess.
“We must return to that inn we passed!” she finally ordered impatiently. “We cannot go on in weather like this! Arthur’s road project is obviously behind schedule!”
They turned the carriage with difficulty, as it was mired in the heavy mud. It took adding two of the warrior’s horses to the team to get the heavy, bulky, covered van out of axle-deep mud, but finally, they managed to do so. Morgause was drenched, as were the rest of her party, as she had been obliged to vacate the van so as not to add to the load unnecessarily. When they pulled into the courtyard, Morgause emerged out of the heavy wagon and made her way into the inn, glad of the warmth of the peat fire.
“Innkeeper!” she called out impatiently, and the Black Knight’s hackles went up at the sound of her voice. He remained where he was, however, so as to discover her motives for being there. “My carriage cannot pass over the wretched road out there due to the rain. I shall need a room for myself and one for my guard, as well as stabling for the horse and carriage!”
“I am here, My Lady,” the Black Knight heard the innkeeper’s voice respond. “And of course, I shall prepare the rooms for ye at once. The task will take a bit, as no one has used the room for many weeks. We’ll need to put fresh bedding and sheets in place.”
“I can wait for such a luxury,” Morgause answered, modulating her tone due to the innkeeper’s accommodating words. “In the meantime, I and my vanguard are hungry, what is available?”
“We have a full pot of fine rabbit stew, with fresh bread, My Lady Morgause,” the man answered, keeping his manner humble. “I have wine, ale, and a bit of whiskey to serve too if it meets with yer approval.”
“I was not expecting such fine manners out here in the wilds,” Morgause turned her attention fully on the innkeeper.
“I have not always lived in such a remote place, My Lady,” the innkeeper answered respectfully. “But such things are all in the past, and where I am now is all I need.”
“Well, ‘tis fine to find manners, at least!” Morgause sniffed. “If ye will please serve my vanguard first, so they might begin their guard shifts, I would like a cup of wine to settle my stomach.”
“At once, My Lady,” the innkeeper replied.
The Black Knight watched as all of this transpired, and he eyed the innkeeper a bit closer, wondering if he knew him. Carefully observing the man from his back table, he saw him make a very familiar gesture, along with a turn of phrase, and it was suddenly very clear to the Black Knight that the innkeeper had been replaced by someone else. To his alarm and astonishment, he realized it was Olran, dressed as the innkeeper and conversing with Morgause, seemingly without anyone else noticing it. The Black Knight’s eyebrows rose, and a slow smile appeared. Olran had been keeping some of his talents secret it appeared. He’d stepped into the man’s role with very little rehearsal, but was carrying it off without fault. Myriad possibilities for missions began to pass through the Black Knight’s mind, but he shook them off quickly, wanting to keep his attention on the matter at hand.
The “innkeeper” brought Morgause her wine, and served her bully-boys with confidence and strength, not letting them intimidate him whatsoever. When they tried, he simply turned to Morgause with a sigh and a helpless expression, and she told them to cease bothering him. All throughout the service, Olran struggled not to laugh, for Morgause was one of those people dedicated to making his life miserable, by perpetuating the rumor he did not care for or associate with women, her sympathies being with Westerland and the old alliances. When he brought her portion of the rabbit stew, he set it before her with grace and care, asking if there was anything else he could bring.
“More wine, if ye please? I was not expecting to find such a lovely vintage outside of Londinium.”
“I am pleased that My Lady is enjoying her wine,” the innkeeper responded, bowing a bit as he made his retreat to the kitchen. The Black Knight watched carefully as Morgause and her men partook of the meal, the latter being somewhat noisy and ill-mannered about it much to everyone else’s distress. When they finished, their utensils and bowls were cleared quickly, and another carafe of wine was set before the Orkney queen.
“I did not order more wine,” she said impatiently.
“That carafe is a gift from me,” the innkeeper replied respectfully. “Yer rooms are ready. I hope ye will enjoy the wine, and that it brings ye deep sleep.”
“How thoughtful of ye,” Morgause answered, eyeing him carefully. “Do we know each other?”
“I only know that I gaze upon the Queen of Orkney, Lot’s bride,” the man answered carefully. “I have no other motive other than to assure that ye are well fed and that yer sleep is restful. Is that not what an innkeeper is responsible for?”
“Ye certainly take yer responsibilities seriously,” the woman answered. “It’s been a long time since I was treated with real respect, instead of simply being tolerated. Thank ye, I shall enjoy the wine.”
“Good night, My Lady. I must attend to closing up my inn, as I think the weather will turn colder overnight. We may have extra guests in the morning if ye will excuse me.”
“Of course, I am tired and going to bed at once.”
“Good night, My Lady.”
Taking the carafe with her, along with the cup she had used at the table, Morgause left the common room, ascending the narrow staircase up to the second level and the room that awaited her there. Olran followed behind, opening the door to the room meant for her use, and standing aside politely as she entered. The room was common enough, but it was clean and tidy, with fresh, clean sheets on the bed, and many thick coverlets to keep off the cold.
“I was not expecting anything as nice as this,” Morgause remarked. “I shall have to remember this place in the future.”
“I am honored, My Lady, that ye find my humble accommodations acceptable.”
“Are ye certain we have not met before?” she turned suddenly, meaning to startle him a bit. He barely blinked, and a slight smile appeared on his face, much to her consternation.
“I doubt it, Madam. Ye are a high-born lady, and I am but a common innkeeper. How would it be that we would have ever met?” he answered reasonably, turning down the coverlet for her before walking to the small hearth and poking it to life. Adding another log to keep it burning, he poked it into place so that it would bank the coals and slowly feed them throughout the night.
“Of course, ye are right!” Morgause answered haughtily. “Still, something is very familiar about ye; my powers of perception are rarely wrong. I shall reckon it out.”
“If ye please, My Lady, I must see to the common room and then seek my own bed. The day has been a long one today. Good night.”
“Good night,” she answered, watching him leave, bowing as he closed the door. She locked it behind him, then made ready for sleep, taking a cup of the wine with her and putting it on the table beside her.