Chapter 3
The tavern opposite Westin’s Inn turned out to be anything but quiet. They were hard-pressed to find an empty table, but eventually were hunched behind two enormous tankards of ale. John had guzzled more than half of his pint, while Benjamin’s tankard was still untouched.
“Help me understand,” Benjamin started, leaning forward, “you don’t have the foggiest idea who you really are?”
“Well…no.” Walsh shrugged, offering an embarrassed smile.
“That’s hard to believe…” Benjamin murmured, shaking his head.
“Be that as it may, it’s the sad truth.”
A booming voice interrupted their chat: “What’s wrong? Don’t like our beer, sailor?”
Benjamin looked up to confront the owner of that annoying voice: a big, matronly woman towered over their table, hands on her broad hips. She was weari
