Father Innocente shrugged. “This festival comes from the Romans,” he said. “This was a feast for their pagan Gods. I do not like the fact that the hard working villagers spend money to make cakes to give to one another in the hopes of warding off any evil demons that might be walking the earth this night. People should have better things to do with their money. Have you not celebrated All Hallows Eve, my lady?”
Annavieve shook her head. “I did not even know there was such a thing,” she admitted. “The nuns of Sempringham did not teach us about festivals that did not directly involve the saints. This is all quite fascinating.”
Father Innocente merely smiled, folding his arms across his fat chest as he watched his flock celebrate the dead. Some of it was rather amusing, he would admit, but he knew there were eleven acolytes in the church who wished they were part of the celebration. Young boys who led a rather serious life that also wanted to dance in the streets. Father Innocente was all for shutting out the temptation. Excusing himself from the riot in the streets, he returned to the church and shut the doors, leaving Annavieve and Kevin standing on the steps.
“Well?” Annavieve said when they were alone. “What do we do now?”
Kevin was skimming the crowd. He had been since they had quit the church. It was his warrior’s instinct that caused him to size up every man at the gathering. So far, all he could see were peasants– there were no knights or soldiers as far as he could tell. Also, he was on the lookout for a tavern where they could have a meal; neither of them had eaten since the morning’s meal and it was time to get things in order.
“I cannot speak for you, of course, but I am rather hungry,” he said. “I would like to find something to eat.”
Annavieve took a couple of stairs until she was standing next to him. “I would be most agreeable to that,” she said. “I am famished.”
Shifting his saddlebags onto the opposite shoulder, Kevin took her by the arm. “Then stay close to me,” he said. “I should not like to see you get caught up in this human tide so that I would have to rush in to save you.”
Annavieve grinned. “They seem harmless enough.”
He grunted. “So do rabid dogs,” he pointed out, “until you get close enough for them to take an arm off.”
Annavieve laughed. “And I suppose you see monsters in your dreams, too.”
Kevin shrugged. “They have visited me on occasion.”
She looked up at him as he led her off the steps and into the street, trying to make it through the crowd.
“Were there monsters in the Levant?” she asked. “Real ones, I mean. I heard an old nun tell stories about great winged creatures that lived in the Levant.”
Kevin had to pull her out of the way quickly as a group of revelers pushed through. “If there are any winged monsters, I never saw them,” he said. “But there are some creatures there that are quite different from anything in England.”
She was very interested. “Like what?”
He thought on the animals he had seen over the years. “Creatures that look like deer but have very long horns,” he said. “I saw a lion, too. A massive creature with hair around his neck that looks like a haystack.”
Annavieve giggled at the emphasis in his voice when he spoke of haystack hair. “I hope we shall have time for you to tell me about all of the animals you have seen on your travels,” she said. “I have never met anyone who is so well-traveled. It all seems quite remarkable to me that you have seen more of the world than most people. How fortunate you are.”
Kevin thought on the reasons that drove him to the Levant in the first place. “I suppose,” he said, noting a brightly lit and rather crowded tavern off to the west, on a side street that seemed very busy at this time of night. Not wanting to further discuss his travel to the Levant, at least not at the moment, he pointed towards the tavern. “Look there, mayhap we may find something to eat.”
Successfully diverted, Annavieve allowed him to lead her off towards the two-storied tavern. It was typical wattle and daub construction with great beams running through the exterior walls for support. Horses were crowded around the front of the establishment, tethered, and people milled in and out, drinking and laughing and generally being loud. It was a night for celebration, after all, and as they approached the door, Kevin shoved a couple of men out of their way who didn’t move fast enough. One of them tipped over and fell straight into the mud.
The heavy smell of dirty bodies and smoke greeted them as they entered the tavern. It was full to the rafters with people and Kevin escorted Annavieve more deeply into the sunken common room, moving around tables and chairs and drunkards on their search for the tavern keeper. There were serving wenches running about everywhere, but seemingly no one in charge. Then, they spied the man near the back of the room opening up a barrel of ale. Kevin went right up to the man.
“Are you the proprietor?” he asked.
The man, with dirty clothes and shaggy hair, glanced at Kevin with disinterest. “I am,” he said, sounding impatient. “What do you want?”
“A room and a meal,” Kevin replied. “I will pay handsomely for both. We require your finest.”
The tavern keeper flicked a hand towards the second floor of the structure. “Take your pick,” he said. “No one wants to pay for a room tonight.”
Kevin’s brow furrowed. “With all of these people, you have rooms open?”
The tavern keeper nodded. “As I said, no one wants to pay,” he said. “They would rather drink their money away tonight. You can have any room you want.”
The prospect of a room to sleep in suited Kevin just fine. “What is on the menu tonight?”
The tavern keeper scratched his cheek. “Chicken stew,” he said. “Boiled mutton. And the wife made cakes for the dead souls.”
Kevin dug into his purse, the one that was now considerably lighter since his dealings with the priest, and handed several coins to the tavern keeper. “That should pay for everything,” he said. “Send food and drink up to our room immediately.”
