The Robin And The Kestrel

To be fair, they did give him a chit for the supposed 'value' of the coins, which could be redeemed at the Cathedral. Which they did not intend to do, for the Guard made it very clear that only those whose piety was in doubt would do such a thing; the rest would consider their lost coins a donation to the Church.

So much for the 'honest men of Gradford.' Robin wondered how that particular Guard, the one who had refused a gift of a God-Star, was doing now. Did actions like these bother him_or had he been persuaded like the rest of them?

As they waited for the endless questions and inspections to be over, Robin watched the street of the inns beyond this Guardpost. There were Guards and Constables everywhere. One was posted at the entrance to every inn, taking down the names of everyone who came to stay there. The street preachers had real podiums now, erected beneath the street lamps, from which to harangue the passersby.

There were rules now, endless rules. So many they made Robin's head swim, then ache. Things that could not be worn, eaten, drunk, said, or done. And they were informed that there was something called a 'curfew,' that once the bell had rung from the Cathedral signaling that Sixte was over, they had one hour to get inside. After that, only folk with emergencies or official passes had leave to be on the streets.

Public gatherings were prohibited. Public parties were prohibited. Gathering in an inn for the purpose of 'idleness' was forbidden. Only those living in an inn were permitted to eat and drink in the inn. Strong drink was prohibited, as were gambling and music.

Except in that special House that Padrik owns...

And women must not be 'forward,' must always be 'modest and unassuming,' in word, deed_and thought. There were more rules about the proper conduct for a woman; Robin let them all wash over her without really noting them. If she did take note, she knew she would become so enraged she would give herself away.

Forewarned by the lecture to that poor, hapless farm woman, Robin let Jonny do all the talking, which he did in very slow monosyllables, constantly pulling on his forelock, and mumbling 'yessir' and 'nossir.' Their story was as simple as his words. He was 'Jon Brede,' she was 'Jen Brede.' They 'farmed.' Their purpose in coming to Gradford_

'Same as them,' Jonny said, nodding at the rest of the group. 'Visit the Cathedral.'

Not a lie, not at all; only a tiny part of the truth.

There was another new innovation_a little piece of pasteboard with their name, occupation, reason for visit, date of entry, and description written on it.

She and Jonny made no pretense of being able to read or write, and made a pair of marks_a scythe for him, a flower for her_where they were required to sign these 'papers.' Besides the physical description, Robin's said she was 'meek and wifely.' Jonny's described him as 'simpleton.' It was not very difficult to keep her face straight; she was so knotted with tension she could not have smiled if she wanted to.

Probably they would have to present these 'papers' anytime anyone demanded to see them. People in authority would know where they stayed, where they ate, what they did.

Had it only been a week since they left? What could have happened in the interim?

They made their way down the street of the inns, but Robin had absolutely no intention of staying here. Not with Guards at every door_and if they were only farmers, there would be questions about where they had gotten the money to stay in a good inn. There couldn't be Guards everywhere; that wouldn't be feasible. Only people with good money would come here_poorer folk went elsewhere, and Padrik would have no real interest in poorer folk.

This was where the knowledge gleaned from their previous visit was invaluable. They did not have to search for lodging; they knew where to go. 'Elsewhere' was all the way across the city, in a section not far from the Warren, a place Robin had noted against future need. Inns there sold sleeping space on the floor of the common room; they would have two or three large chambers above, where people would sleep in rows of cots, and perhaps four or six tiny chambers, hardly larger than closets, for those who wished a little more privacy. Their coins would go a long way in this section of Gradford.

All things considered, though, it was a good thing that their silver all bore the stamp of the King and not of any nonhumans. Otherwise, those coins would go straight to the coffers of the Church. Robin rather doubted that anyone in this town would accept a coin with the nonhuman stamp.

Her stomach was already in knots, and she had the feeling that things were going to get a lot worse.

They had to cross the Cathedral square in order to get there; it appeared that Padrik had decided that business was too good for the small merchants who had been setting up there. There were small stalls set up facing the Cathedral, selling the same merchandise as before, but they were all manned by young men in Novices' robes. There was even a stall selling God-Stars, both the pendants and the wall-decorations! But Robin noted that the workmanship was distinctly inferior, and from what she could see, so were the materials. A small victory, and a petty one, but this was the only bright spot so far.

'I guess the licenses weren't enough for him,' she said in a low voice, after a quick glance around showed no one close enough to overhear a careful conversation.