She shot him a bemused glance, then led them to a table near one of the room’s two fires. The wood was well worn, and full of the kind of dents that said a good deal of jug-bashing had taken place on it. They sat and Belle fetched ale. She tripped as she approached, slopping some on Cynric’s sleeve, and when she placed the other goblets on the table, she did so clumsily enough to spill more.
‘Perhaps she would be unemployed if Gynewell suppresses this place,’ whispered de Wetherset. ‘I do not like to be rude, but she is not very good at serving drinks.’
‘I suspect her talents lie in other areas,’ said Michael. He ordered food, and when the rabbit pie arrived, she slapped it down in a way that splattered Suttone’s habit with gravy. He tutted in annoyance, but did not make the kind of fuss he would have done had an ugly boy been the culprit. When she wiped his lap with a cloth, taking rather longer than necessary, he forgave her completely.
‘She is very obliging,’ said de Wetherset to Bartholomew. ‘Perhaps that is why she is so popular. Lots of Vicars Choral are calling to her, trying to attract her attention.’
‘Good evening, sirs,’ said another woman. The front of her dress was indecently low, and it became more so as she leaned across the table to refill their cups. Bartholomew saw de Wetherset’s jaw drop. She ran her eyes across the gathering like a butcher looking for prime cuts, and her insolent gaze fell on Michael. ‘Oh, my! You are a large man. Tetford was right.’
‘Rosanna?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘The seamstress who adjusted Michael’s ceremonial alb?’
‘The very same,’ she crooned, her eyes fixed on the monk. ‘Now I see why Tetford insisted it should be so massive. Yours is an impressive figure, Brother.’
Michael preened himself. ‘Some of my colleagues say I am fat.’
‘Then they do not know what they are talking about. However, I imagine you have some very big bones.’
Bartholomew laughed, although Michael did not see anything amusing in the comment. ‘Tetford fought Ravenser over a misunderstanding involving you,’ said the monk.
She grinned mischievously. ‘A mistake was made in booking arrangements. Tetford was nasty about it, and I am pleased we now work for Ravenser. He will be a far nicer master.’ ‘You did not like Tetford, then?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘He was miserly and spiteful. Ravenser may seem wild, but he has a good heart. I think the tavern will do very well under him. For a few ghastly hours, we thought it might go to John Suttone.’
‘John?’ asked Suttone in surprise. ‘He is not the kind of man who would run a … ’ He waved his hand, not sure what to call it.
‘He is good at administration, and the canons asked if he would consider taking on the responsibility. He would have bowed to the bishop’s demands for moderation, though, and that would have been tedious. Now, whose company would you like? There is Belle from Wigford, and Jane and Agnes from Newport. And, since there are four of you, I shall make sure I am to hand, too.’
‘To hand for what?’ asked de Wetherset, bewildered. ‘We have come for a drink.’
‘Of course you have, Father. Now, you sit quietly and I will send Belle over. I think you have already taken a liking to her, and she certainly has to you. Look! She is waving.’
‘I do not want the company of women,’ objected de Wetherset, puzzled. ‘I encountered a new argument pertaining to Blood Relics today, and I intend to practise it on my colleagues here. A lady would be bored with such an erudite discourse, and her restless shuffling might distract them.’
‘Belle will sit still, if that is what you would like,’ said Rosanna patiently, her eyes as old as the hills. ‘Have no fear, Father. She will be very gentle with you.’
‘Later, perhaps,’ said Michael, smothering a smile. ‘We would like to enjoy our ale first.’
‘Very well,’ said Rosanna. ‘Call us when you are ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ asked de Wetherset when she had gone. ‘This is a curious institution. I do not think I will be coming here very often, once I am a canon.’
‘I might,’ said Suttone perkily. ‘It is a charming place.’
The evening wore on, and de Wetherset remained bemused by Ravenser’s House of Pleasure. Most patrons were priests, although there was a smattering of secular clerks and servants. The atmosphere was raucous and dissipated, and even Cynric declared it too noisy. It was hot, too, which de Wetherset said explained why so many serving wenches were half naked. Cynric watched in shock, until one tried to sit on his lap, at which point he excused himself and scuttled outside, muttering something about his wife. Meanwhile, some of the men divested themselves of cloaks, tunics and even shifts.
