THE SLEEPY WILLOWS

THE TOWN BEFORE

Lourdes was the last town the coachman had to make a stop in order for us to pass the night in a tavern located at the heart of the city before resuming our journey the next day. The coachman had intently ridden the carriage through the most wretched street corners of the city after riding past the western gate closely guarded by the police stationed to safeguard the town from bandits rumored to be stealing from cities nearby.

The moon had already been blotched out in the dark sky by the time we were a mile away from the city gate. Now in the central part of the city, the coachman eased his reins on the horses as he rode the carriage along on the paved street, through the midst of other passersby in the middle of the road. Just like the few other carriages we came across on the road, he softly led us further deep into the city, scouring for the Gretel Graven inn, a place I knew that he must have already made arrangements with the owner before he came to fetch me at the docks few days back.

As he rode on, I took a peep out of the carriage through the window after shifting the curtains aside and saw that it was already nightfall but the few streetlamps at each side of the paved street made it visible for me to see the passersby trekking past us under the cover of the night as well as some bystanders chattering among themselves at the dark alleys of the tall concrete apartments. There were quite a few inns up ahead where we could have made a stop, but he took a narrow detour and brought us to another lane sparsely crowded with people.

Then we came across some wretched looking buildings on the left flank of the road when the coachman took a left turn to the main lane beautified by every candlelight that shone on the road from every cubicle of the tall houses, at both sides of the road through the windows, and no one seemed to live in, them apart from an old street beggar, in a tattered cloak that barely covered his knees, sitting by the roadside of the street, eagerly wanting some pennies from the people walking by with the help of a little red bowl he held for them to drop whatever they had in their pockets.

I watched him pitifully as the carriage trekked on until we were a bit far away from him. The two wheels of the carriage that was once violent when it was daytime before we came to town, rolled slowly along the road thanks to the efforts of the coachman. Five minutes later, we crossed a narrow crooked bridge where only a single carriage can go to the other side at a time before arriving at our destination. The approaching carriage was immediately stopped by the coachman in front of the inn, and he was first met by two of the servants at the front porch of the building, after he alighted the carriage, followed by another fellow, dressed in a black overcoat which concealed his short musket. His rough mustache seemed to match his grumpy looks at the unexpected guest. Two of his comrades, standing aloof, stopped talking as soon as they noticed that we had arrived. They began staring at us idly in a corner near the door while the coachman was busy having a chat with one of the attendants.

From where I sat inside the carriage, I could see a signpost hung by the left side of the door on which was scribbled the name of the inn and I could see that the attendants were engrossed in their talking with the coachman, particularly the man in the black overcoat whose hat was tilted to one side of his head. His gorgeous hat was undeniably fashioned to be good-looking, but it was his response to the coachman that got me interested in listening to their conversation.

“So, Sir Williams, I prithee you wisely listen to our honest counsel”

He said, rubbing his beard funnily.

“We’ll pay twice the price for a spare room, so, grant us entry.”

“It’s very unfortunate for us that we must decline.”

One of the two attendants rejoined.

“Our rooms are already preoccupied with valuable guests. I suggest you find another tavern.”

“But—”

“Humble signor, pardon our misgivings, but make time to leave for another inn.”

The man with the hat advised coaxingly.

“I can’t afford to find another at this odd hour of the night. I have already transacted with Lord Lorenzo a month ago and—”

“Sadly, he’s not here.”

“He’s on an official business trip to Rages”

“We cannot let you in based on your words alone.”

“Then a written agreement with his seal on it might change your mind.”

Sir William replied and took out a parcel from the right pocket of his natty coat. They marveled as they saw the paper with a red seal on it. One of the attendants took it from him and checked to see if the seal was indeed genuine. The others, including myself, all stared anxiously as the man opened the parcel to read the scribbled note. At first glance, I thought he was going to declare the note illegible, but I was wrong after he was done confirming his doubts.

“It’s the master seal, alright?”

“Bertrand, are you sure the document is authentic?”

“Yes, it is. You came with the lady Mira.”

“Yes, she’s inside the coach.”

“It says here in the letter that you are supposed to have arrived on the twenty-sixth. What was the cause for the delay?”

“A wrong turn, I guess.”

“Very well. Thankfully, we have a little bit of space for the guest in the upper rooms, but I sincerely doubt if she’ll feel comfortable sleeping in that room.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind at all.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too much. The room in question is in a pretty bad shape.”

“It’s clearly unfit for a lady with such affluence.”

Bertrand explained, trying to dissuade the coachman, but William remained undeterred.

“I insist you let us in. As you can see, we’re already tired from the long journey.”

William replied and stared at them bluntly. The man with the hat had remained silent ever since the coachman brought out the parcel but then, he whispered something into Bertrand’s ear before leaving to join the rest of his companions at the entrance of the inn.

“If that’s what you want, you can enter with the lady go.”

“We’ll be of help if you need anything.”

“You go make preparations, but first, let me confer with the lady Mira.”

Sir. William replied.

“Fair enough.”

Bertrand answered and gestured at the other attendant. They both hurriedly went inside, but Bertrand’s colleagues stood by the entrance waiting for us while Sir. William walked to the carriage and opened the door.

“Milady, there’s a spare room for you to rest for the night, but I don’t think you’ll find the room appropriate to sleep in”

He said as soon as he opened the door.

“I’ll take my chance. Tell the attendants we’ll spend the night here.”

“As you wish, Milady.”

He said and shut the door. Then he went back to relay the message to the attendants at the entrance of the inn. After he left, I covered my face with a caul which I had brought along with me from the coachman and I began the journey from Cyprus. I took out a little chest of luggage beneath my foot. The chest was a gift from Aunt Perry, given to me when I was studying in Wales before she traveled to Greece, and it was dear to me, so I have kept it close to me since it reminded me of her warm affection she showed me when I was under her roof in Cyprus, her hometown. I hastily kept the letters inside the little chest and closed it securely. Sir William suddenly came back to escort me out of the coach, and he flung the door open the minute he returned from carrying out my order and moved aside for me to come out of the carriage.