twenty one

The Green Knight had looked like quite a small pub from the outside, but inside the truth was slowly revealed; via twisting corridors, lots of little rooms, all connected with unusually placed doors, and two separate bars, George found himself disoriented. But he got the drinks and sipped at one whilst he walked back, retracing his steps, and hoping to espy Roy. This he finally did.

‘What an unusual place. It’s very interesting,’ he said as he sat next to Roy.

‘Yes it is. I think it used to be homes, as well as part of it being a section from the town hall next door.’

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the comfort of the padded seats, the warmth, the beer and the din of people’s voices and their feet on the wooden floor. Sunlight was fleeing from the windows, obscured by the buildings of the square, and a woman came around to light the lamps that were dotted around the place. Soon enough, the warm yellow glow of the sky was totally gone, and what remained was the ghostly luminescence of the burning white mantles. In this light the talking of the other patrons seemed more hushed, and the shadows danced about the long corridors and around the rooms.

‘So have you known your friend long?’

‘Oh yes, we lived near each other when we were young. He went off to study, but we stayed in touch.’

‘And you think he will be able to help us identify the mushroom?’

‘I hope so. He’s a very knowledgeable man. And he’s well-travelled. In fact he was the man I told you about earlier, the one who went to work abroad.’

‘I see. When should we go back to his house. Or maybe we could eat here?’

‘We can leave here soon and we’ll eat at his. I’m sure he’d be offended if we ate here rather than wait until we were with him.’

They slowly finished their drinks, and continued to listen to the echoes that came down through the pub. There was a lot of laughter, particularly from a group of men who were making bawdy jokes, but also there was the clattering of cutlery and music too, that filtered occasionally through the other sounds.

‘Can you play any musical instruments George?’

‘No unfortunately not. I was encouraged to try the piano when I was younger but never enjoyed it. I wish I’d stuck with it though. Can you?’

‘Yes, I used to be in a little band in fact. I play the tin whistle and do a bit of singing too. We played here once, many years ago.’

‘It seems like a strange place for a gig. Is there a stage somewhere?’

‘Nope, we just sat in a corner of one of the rooms and played, more so that the music would fill the place rather than being watched. It was good though, free drinks all night.’

Their drinks were finished now, and they again set off, walking back through the quiet town, with its glowing windows and smoking chimneys, towards the house of Roy’s friend.

twenty

The afternoon was slowly changing from the more youthful visage of midday, into the mature countenance of early evening. The green of the trees’ leaves seemed more sombre, the sky more muted, the birds’ songs more melancholy, and George and Roy remained sat where they were on the cart, driving towards their new destination.

‘Told I was of all the sights,

Wonders far and wide,

But for me the Gold is right

At home,

And so here I’ll be,

Happy and old.’

Roy sang quietly but his deep voice seemed to fill the empty fields about them. And his voice was good too, full of character and timbre, and George was surprised by this kind man, who had initially let him sleep in his family home and then offered to help him further, and who had also shown that he was not a simple parochial farmer, but a man with intelligence. George appreciated his help.

By the time they approached the next town around an hour had passed, and the air was beginning to cool. A slight dampness could be seen on the grass, and the horses’ nostrils sent out visible breath.

‘This is where a friend of mine lives. He’s a bit of an expert when it comes to plants and fungi, so hopefully he can tell us what it is that is in that box.’

‘Good. And you really must let me help you more Roy. You’ve already done too much for me.’

‘That’s good of you George.’

The village must have had a market today for there were several horses and carts of all sizes in and around the centre, and many people were packing up their stalls. It was a small place, but was filled with activity, that was all the more interesting after the long day on the cart. Roy knew where he was going and followed the main road that went through the village until they arrived at a fairly large house whose garden was neatly sectioned off with various plants growing in order, as well as a greenhouse.

Roy quickly jumped off the cart and hitched the horses to the fence. He ran up the path and knocked on the door, but after waiting there for a minute he returned.

‘I thought we’d be lucky to find him in. He spends most of his time walking in the countryside and documenting what he finds there. Very clever chap. For now though we’ll have to go to a pub and wait for him. Sound good to you?’

‘It sure does,’ answered George, who was already thinking about what he might get to eat.

So, after Roy had tied the horses up round the back of the house, the two men walked into the village and went into a pub that overlooked the main square. Its name was The Green Knight and inside it was busy with the early evening bustle of a country pub; people were laughing with their friends and family, talking about their day’s work, and drinking and eating with relish.

‘I’ll get you a drink Roy. Pint of ale?’

‘Of course, thanks. I’ll get us a table.’