Vice Read Free Page B

to the man sitting atop the coach, unlashing the passenger’s baggage.
    “No, nothing, thank you.”
    “Long ways to travel with not so much as a cloak bag,” the man remarked curiously.
    Juliana merely nodded and set off to the inn doorway. She felt as if she’d traveled not just a long way but into another world … another life. What it would bring her and what she would make of it were the only questions of any interest.
    She entered the dark paneled taproom, where a scullery maid was slopping a bucket of water over the grubby flagstones. Juliana skipped over a dirty stream that threatened to swamp her feet, caught her foot on the edge of the bucket, and grabbed at the counter to save herself. Stable again, she nodded cheerfully to the girl.
    “I give you good morning.”
    The girl sniffed and looked as if it was far from a good morning. She was scrawny and pale, her hair almost painfully scraped back from her forehead into a lank and greasy pigtail. “Ye want summat t’eat?”
    “If you please,” Juliana responded with undiluted cheerfulness. She perched on a high stool at the counter and looked around. The comparison with the country inns with which she was familiar was not favorable. Where she was used to fresh flowers and bunches of dried herbs, polished brass and waxed wood, this place was dark, dirty, and reeked of stale beer and the cesspit. And the people had a wary, hostile air.
    The innkeeper loomed out of the dimness behind the counter. “What can I get ye?” The question was courteous enough, but his tone was surly and his eyes bloodshot.
    “Eggs and toast and tea, if you please, sir. I’ve just come off the York stage.” Juliana essayed a smile.
    The man peered at her suspiciously in the gloom, and she drew the cloak tighter about her.
    “I’ll see yer coin first,” he said.
    Juliana reached into her pocket and drew out a shilling. She slapped it onto the counter and glared at him, her jade-green eyes suddenly ablaze.
    The innkeeper drew back almost involuntarily from the heat of that anger. He palmed the coin, gave her another searching look, and snapped at the still-mopping scullery maid, “Ellie, get into the kitchen and bring the gentleman ’is eggs an’ toast.”
    The maid dumped her mop into the bucket with a rough impatience that sent water slurping over the rim and, sighing heavily, marched behind the counter into the kitchen.
    The innkeeper’s pale, bloodshot eyes narrowed slyly. “A tankard of ale, young sir?”
    “No, just tea, thank you.”
    His crafty glance ran over her swathed figure. “Tea’ll maudle yer belly, lad. It’s a drink fit only fer women. Didn’t nobody teach ye to take ale with yer breakfast?”
    Juliana accepted that her disguise was not convincing, but it had served its purpose thus far. She was certain no one had thought twice about her at the Rose and Crown in Winchester, and as far as the innkeeper was concerned, she’d just alighted from the York stage—almost as far from Winchester as it was possible to be this side of the Scottish border.
    “I’m looking for lodging and work,” she said casually, confirming his suspicions by default. “D’you know of anything around here?”
    The man stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, now, I just might be able to think of summat. Let’s see what ye’ve got under that cap.”
    Juliana shrugged and pulled off her cap. “I fail to see what my hair has to do with getting a job.”
    Ellie came back with the breakfast at this point andgawped as the fiery mass, released from the confines of the cap, tumbled loose from its pins.
    “’Ere, what ye doin’ dressed like a lad?” She thumped the plate in front of Juliana.
    “It makes traveling easier,” Juliana responded, dipping her toast into her egg. “And could I have my tea, please?”
    “Oh, ’oity-toity, an’t we?” Ellie said. “I’ll bet yer no better than ye ought t’ be.”
    “’Old yer tongue and fetch the tea, girl,” the innkeeper