***
Gareth left Robin in the stables with the horses. Master Baret had found them a hospice used by the servants of priests and people like that. It wasn't a bit like the place where he stayed when he was in Salisbury with his father. They went to the Red Boar, which was the inn the archers used.
His Welsh friends had gone there. They were having problems with a gamekeeper and some bailiffs who were trying to arrest them. Bailiffs weren't welcome at the Red Boar. They either stayed outside or went in accompanied by soldiers. Gareth figured that by the time they'd organised a military escort, the venison would have been eaten and all evidence destroyed. He made his way towards the inn, sheltering from the rain beneath the overhanging floors of the timber houses.
The Red Boar occupied a narrow gap between two streets. David and the two archers were in the front parlour, surrounded by a band of admirers. They were handing out roast meat and wine like lords at a banquet. Gareth knew where the meat came from. He guessed the wine had been bought with the money Master Baret paid to get rid of them.
Harry and Edward were the names they used. They were much older than Gareth and spoke good English. The other members of their group were dressed in the uniforms of the Earl of Huntingdon, whose powerbase was in Devon. Gareth recognised the men's distinctive West Country accents and heard an occasional word in the Cornish tongue. Harry proposed a toast.
'To Good Duke Humphrey.'
Gareth recalled that Humphrey was the young king's uncle and a fierce supporter of the war in France.
'Duke Humphrey!'
They bellowed his name and emptied their mugs. The wineskin was passed round and the mugs recharged. Someone proposed a toast to John Holland.
'To John Holland ... Earl of Huntingdon!'
John Holland was a leading commander of the English forces in France. Gareth wasn't interested in him. He was out to sample the fleshpots of Salisbury. It was the first time he'd been out of his father's clutches and he was determined to make the most of it. The serving wenches at the Red Boar were known to trade favours for money. Some did it for nothing if they fancied you.
Gareth wanted one who fancied him but was prepared to pay if he had to. The coins from Master Baret were burning a hole in his purse. Tonight was the night. All the boys he knew (except David) had done it. He was determined not to be left out.
A girl approached his table. He'd seen her before. She had olive skin and dark eyes. He reckoned he fancied her. She brushed against him as she cleared away the platters.'