When Stars Align: Part 2

Martin tried to focus on the sound of the squeaking sign as it swung in the wind. He could just about make out the lettering on it through the blinding snow: The Seven Stars. It was hard work to keep his nerves under control with Richard making all that racket.

‘Is anyone in there!’ he shouted, banging on the door.

Frances was shivering, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes seared holes into the side of Richard’s head.

‘Perhaps if you would stop assaulting the door, the owner might be more inclined to answer,’ she sniped.

Richard shot her look before continuing his efforts. Martin’s was still focused on the sign, repeating the name of the pub over and over again in his head. It was all he could do to keep his mind off the biting cold.

He looked around. The coach driver was gone, having taken the horses to the stables. He said he would lodge with them there for the night. Martin couldn’t blame him. He began to wonder if he himself might prefer the company of the animals to the Arkwrights.

Before he could decide, the door suddenly flung open.

‘Christ almighty, what do you want!’ shouted a short, stubby man dressed in a set of dirty nightclothes. He wore a scowl on his face.

‘If it isn’t already apparent, we should like a room for the night,’ snapped Richard.

The man slowly scanned him up and down, taking in his fine attire.

‘Of course sir, I would be much obliged to offer you and your companions a room.’

A huge grin had plastered itself across his face. But then a penny seemed to drop in his mind, and all at once his expression changed to one of great solemness. He wringed his hands and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

‘Say what you have to say, dammit!’ Richard erupted. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure it cannot be worse than what we have endured already tonight.’

Though the landlord continued appear sorrowful, Martin swore he could spot a wicked grin playing upon his lips just before he spoke.

‘It is only that… I do not have many rooms to offer at present. Unless, of course, I was given an incentive to ask a few of my guests to bunk together.’

Richard huffed, reached into his coat, and produced a hefty sum of money, which he duly dropped into the landlord’s hands. The man hastily enclosed the coins in his palms, as though he worried it might be snatched back at any moment.

‘I shall go and prepare your rooms,’ he said, before scurrying inside and motioning for them to follow.

As soon as they were over the threshold, the trio broke into a coughing fit as the thick dust about the place hit the back of their throats. The entire parlour was covered in the stuff, and around the oil lamps hung a golden hue as the particles danced about the light. The landlord, however, was unaffected.

‘Mary! Get behind the bar!’ he shouted up the stairs that ran behind the shelves, which were stocked with many cheap beers, ciders, and spirits.

A young girl scurried down and took her place behind the bar. She looked rather like a solider standing to attention, Martin thought. She was undoubtedly the landlord’s daughter, and surely no older than sixteen.

Whilst her father was upstairs squeezing his guests into two rooms, his three new patrons availed themselves of the barmaid’s services. Richard and Martin took whiskey, whilst Frances opted for something less intoxicating.

Within a few minutes, the stubby little landlord reappeared with two keys in hand.

‘One for the lady, and one for the gentlemen,’ he grinned, doling them out.

As soon as Frances’ key entered her hand, she bid her friend and brother goodnight and made her way upstairs, leaving her half-empty glass on the bar. The landlord hurried after her, offering all manner of amenities to her, should she require them. Frances paid him no heed.

Now alone with the two men, the barmaid fussed with the strings of her apron, unsure of what to do with herself. A great sense of relief washed over the girl as her father shouted for her to make up Frances’ room. Without any thought to Richard and Martin’s needs, she dashed up the stairs out of sight.

As she left, Martin shot a glance of sympathy to Richard. She would likely be tasked with readying their room as well, and he couldn’t help but wonder how hard her father worked her day in and day out. Richard’s mind was not troubled with such thoughts. He finished off his whiskey and took himself behind the bar to pour another.

‘Richard! What are you doing?’ Martin hissed, as though he were afraid they might get caught and reprimanded.

‘There’s no need to worry, it’s not as though some schoolmaster is going to manifest out of thin air and strike me with a cane,’ Richard sniggered.

Martin rolled his eyes, but he could not stop a smirk from creeping onto his face. Richard was right; it wasn’t as though they were in boarding school anymore. Not that Martin ever got into trouble during his time there. He couldn’t say the same for Richard though.

After pouring them each another whiskey, Richard cracked open the door to the smoking-room and they slipped inside. The dust was ever-present it seemed, catching in the moonlight as it trickled in through the dirty windows. Evidently, cleanliness was not one of the landlord’s priorities.

Richard set his glass down on a table and fished a cigar case from his pocket. He picked one out, set it between his teeth, and shrugged off his coat. Martin couldn’t help but watch as it slipped off him, revealing a well-fitted suit.

‘You wouldn’t be able to light me up, would you?’ Richard asked. He flashed Martin a grin, the cigar still caught between his gleaming teeth.

Images

• Preview Image: Worthington, A. (c. 1890s). Llanbadarn Fawr Church and 'Black Lion' Inn [Photograph]. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Llanbadarn_Fawr_Church_and_%27Black_Lion%27_Inn_(gcf00819).jpg