“Did you recognize him?” Harlow asked.
“No, I did not. His moustache style is rather odd for this area. They are not generally so well-manicured,” Max responded. He angled his head in the rider's direction. “We should follow, I have a suspicion we will see him again.”
“Agreed.” Harlow urged his horse forward, and the men once again set off at a fast pace, following the dust kicked up by the grey all the way into Tintagel.
“I see nothing of the rider,” Harlow said as they drew rein outside an inn made of light-coloured stone and dark wood. “However, this is where we are staying. Haydon booked rooms for us here at The Merry Maiden. We should get some rest. De…Cressey is supposed to leave word of where to meet him. I believe it will be an encrypted message or similar.” They urged their horses towards the stable, beside the inn. A tall, thin young man with blond hair walked towards them.
“Can I take yer horses, m’lords?” he offered. The two men dismounted and handed the reins to the ostler before unhooking their bags from their saddles. “I be Michael, the head ostler,” he continued. “Do you need the shoes checked? Smithy be over there.” He pointed to the blacksmith’s shop where a burly, bald-headed man hammered iron on the anvil with heavy thuds.
“Thanking you,” Harlow responded. “Yes, have the smith look them over, if you will. Feed and water them as well. We may require them in a few hours, so they need to be well rested. Oh, and give them a rub down too, please.”
“Yes, m’lords.” He stood there, waiting.
“Here you go,” Harlow added, realizing that the boy was waiting for coin. He gave him a shilling. “Take good care of them.”
“I will do that, m’lords.” Michael tugged the brim of his hat. Pocketing the largesse, he walked the two horses into the stable.
“I hope Haydon booked two rooms. He set off shortly after DeLacey left to join his family, so he should have had time. If not, he was to leave me a note here, with instructions on where he secured lodgings instead,” Harlow commented as they walked towards the rear entrance of the inn.
Max nudged him. “Do not turn around until we reach the door, but the grey horse we just chased is tied at the tavern across the street.”
Harlow peripherally peered across the street as they opened the door to the inn and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to Max. They entered the inn and stood for a moment allowing their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dark panelling covered the walls. Small-paned windows obscured by red curtains, allowed only partial light to enter. The smell of cheap tallow and ale greeted them.
“Welcome to The Merry Maiden, m’lords!” A lanky, bespectacled innkeeper greeted them. His head was mostly bald except for a shock of white-blond hair that was combed over the front of his head. “’Ow can ’Oi assist ye this fine afternoon?”
“Lord Harlow and Lord Worsley, landlord. I believe you have rooms in our names?” The innkeeper stepped behind the waist-high desk behind him and opened a ledger. He leaned low into the page, squinting to see the entries, travelling down the page with the tip of his finger.
“Ah! Here it is. Me misses is upstairs cleaning ’er rooms. She will be down directly. Your man said ye would be here by this evening.”
“Thank you. Have you a private parlour? We would appreciate a meal if you have anything suitable for two hungry travellers?” Max queried.
“Yes, we do, sirs. Please to follow me. There is a lady using it. She is eating alone, but there are two large tables and ye can ’ave yer own. Will that be acceptable to ye?” the innkeeper inquired.
“As long as she can tolerate our dusty appearance, we have no objection. Bring a pitcher of ale and two glasses, will you?” Harlow added. “What are you serving today?”
“’Tis our day for stargazy pie; if ye like pilchards, ye will find this tasty. We also have fresh Cornish pasty and clam soup.”
Harlow glanced at Max, who shrugged. “We will take the stargazy pie, and the Cornish pasty, and a platter of your yarg cheese and crackers.” He had discovered the yarg cheese on their last visit and enjoyed its light, creamy, cheddar taste.
The innkeeper bobbed his head in deference and pointed to the door next to him. “I will let ye know when yer rooms are ready.”
The two men entered the room. Harlow saw a flash of red satin, blonde hair and a black hat feather as another door across the room closed. They looked at one another. Although behind him, Max had seen the disappearing figure too. His eyebrows rose. Harlow scrambled across the room, banging into the chairs as he reached the door to look. Another door to the outside closed, and he ran quickly to open it. There was no sign of the woman.
“Damnation, I see nothing.” He stared at Max, puzzled. “I was certain that was her. Perhaps I am placing more significance on these events than there can possibly be.” He closed the door, shaking his head. However, he could not ignore the chill that crossed his shoulders.
“I know what you will say, Harlow. I thought that. Our horses may be being shod. If she is here, we will find out why later.” Max spoke slowly, “We do not want to draw undue attention to ourselves by haring through the streets.”
“It seems too coincidental. I cannot shake the menacing feeling her presence just gave me. I am convinced that was her…” Harlow shook his head, trying to clear it. “You are right, as usual. We need to eat and rest. She cannot have seen us, which makes me believe the widow knows we are here but is unaware we have spotted her.”
“If that was indeed her.” Max corrected.
“As you will. We both saw the
