Tales from the Boar's Head
The New Barkeep, Early-January, AB 002
Clem Carver walked into the Boar's Head Tavern for his usual evening tankard of ale. Given his reputation as a highly skilled woodworker, Clem had been involved in rebuilding some of the higher-end properties in the City which had been damaged when one of the Gentry - the weaselly blond one who thought he should be King - had thrown a temper tantrum and bombarded the City with hail. His current job was slightly off the Concourse, and he'd got into the habit of stopping off at the Boar's Head for a drink before going home to Kassy, his wife of twenty years. Among his fellow drinkers, the jury was out on whether he needed to ale to face her, or just wanted to be in a jolly mood by the time he got home, and Clem wasn't talking.
He waved to a few of his acquaintances, and then looked over the bar to see if Mine Host, Winston Cadogan, was about. However, instead he was rather surprised to see a lanky young man with curly red-blond hair washing glasses by the sink. The sleeves of his dark shirt were rolled up beyond his elbows, and he seemed to be humming gently to himself.
It wasn't so much that Winston had hired a new member of staff. After all, unless you actually had a stake in a place like the Boar's Head, staff had a habit of coming and going. No, what caught him out was who the youngster was. The Lord Mayor Ian's younger boy, Arthur. The last time Clem had seen him here, he'd been pulling a sword out of the back of another of the tavern's patrons, and grinning like a mad thing, then settling up the bar bill of the man he'd just killed. And to make things worse, the Mayor was the King's son. Which meant...what on earth was the King's grandson doing behind the bar of the Boar's Head?
Clem stood stock still, jaw dropping. He only realised he was staring, when the object of his musings turned towards him, and the older man had the distinct feeling that the boy had realised he was been being watched. However, rather than make an issue about it, he offered Clem a pleasant smile, very different to his expression on the night of the...incident, dried his hands on a towel, and walked over.
"What can I get you?" he asked, cheerfully.
It wasn't a voice that belonged behind a bar. It was the educated voice of the Gentry, but with an accent which Clem couldn't immediately place. It certainly wasn't anything like the Mayor's.
After the incident, Clem had heard a rumour that one of the Gentry who'd been there that night, drinking with Arthur...that Matthew fellow...had tried to buy the Boar's Head, to make any difficulties go away. To Clem, that sounded like a typical reaction for some of the greedier members of the Gentry: they thought they were better than everyone else, and that their every whim should be accommodated. However, he'd also heard that Winston had refused point blank to sell.
Had Matthew bought it anyway, despite its owner's wishes, and installed this lad in here to make a point? Did Winston even know he was here? He certainly seemed to have made himself at home. Only one way to find out., he supposed. Ask.
"You're new here."
"I am," Arthur conceded, "this is my third day."
"Is Winston around?"
"Maddie needed him through in La Sanglier," came the answer, "one of the tables came up short on the bill. After eating and drinking merrily, of course. She asked him to come sort it out, as they wouldn't listen to her. Which probably means it's one of my relations."
So he was on first names with both Mine Host and La Sanglier's hostess/manager. And he was obviously well aware of the problems his kin sometimes caused - or at least had a realistic attitude towards them.
Mind you, last time he'd been in here, he'd been the one causing the trouble.
"Can I pour you anything while you wait?" the younger man asked.
"Chippenham Red..." Clem answered, hesitantly.
"Coming right up."
Arthur grabbed a tankard and turned to the relevant keg. Clem noticed that he was a bit clumsy when pouring, but was impressed when he made a point of wiping the spillage off with a bar towel. The usual guy, Danny, never bothered to do that. Then he turned back to his customer and put his drink on the bar in front of him.
"Sorry about that..." he said, with a slightly embarrassed look, "I'm still getting used to when to turn the tap off. But I'll get there. Is there anything else? Nan has a pot of lamb stew on the hearth today."
"Why not...I'll take a portion," Clem answered, still rather at a loss that he was being waited on by someone like...him.
"Sit down, and it'll be right out," he answered, and called the order through to Nan in the kitchen
Clem put down the money to cover both food and drink, and then looked around to see who he could sit with. He noticed Davey Farmer, obviously in town for the market, talking to Susie Dearing, who ran the haberdasher's store just across the road. He was about to go over to join them, when Winston came through the kitchen door. From the expression on his face he'd just had a very unproductive conversation with whoever the recalcitrant customer was.
"Any chance you could give Maddie a hand?" Winston asked Arthur as he came in, "he refuses to listen to me."
"Definitely one of my relations, then," Arthur said, with a sigh, "I'll see what I can do."
And he disappeared into the kitchen, which connected the two sides of the premises.
"You've got a new assistant, Winston," he commented, once he was sure that Arthur couldn't hear.
Winston Cadogan, long-term owner of the Boar's Head Tavern, looked back over his shoulder with an indulgent smile on his face, and then back at Clem, who'd taken up station leaning against the bar.
"Yup," he answered.
"But isn't that...?"
"Yep."
"But he..."
"Yep."
"What's his sort doing here?"
"Helping out."
"But the other night..."
"I heard he and the Mayor had words after that."
"You're right at that," Clem answered, "My friend Abel Barnes. He's a messenger at the Guildhall. Apparently they had a barney which could be heard over most of the first floor. The Mayor really lost it with his boy."
"Doesn't seem like him. The Mayor, that is."
"You know he tries to keep the peace when the Gentry cause problems. I guess he figured that as this was his son, he needed to make an example. I'd even heard it came to blows, although I don't know if that's true."
"Well, whatever really happened between them, the next day the lad turned up on my doorstep. He apologies for the trouble he'd caused and said he was here to help me clean up. And give him his due, he did just that. He even got rid of the bloodstain...and you know how tricky those can be to get out of wood. And he offered to put magic up on the building for me. To protect it, he said. Well, I couldn't say no to that, could I? Not given how much those magical types usually charge."
"So how come he's still here? He was doing the washing up when I arrived, for goodness sake," Clem said, still having difficulty believing it, "the Gentry don't normally stoop to that kind of thing unless they don't have a choice."
"I know. But he doesn't seem to be like the others. He's more down to earth."
"That doesn't sound like that first time he came in here. He was swaggering around like the rest of the Gentry, and didn't seem to think twice about killing that guy."
"I know. But this time, it's like he was almost a different person. A much more likeable one. After he'd done what he had to do, he bought himself a tankard of ale and some supper, sat himself down at one of the big tables, and got talking to Old Sal. Then some of the others joined in, and soon he was telling stories with the rest of them, as if he'd known them all his life. And, as he was leaving that evening, he asked if I minded him coming back another day."
"He asked you if he could come back?"
"Yep.
"That's just not right."
"It caught me out, that's for sure. But what could I say? 'Sorry, Your Highness, you aren't welcome here'? I don't want to end up in the Constable's Gaol for upsetting one of them, like that old lady a few weeks ago."
"True."
"Then he asked if he could help out once a week or so. That threw me even more, but I said I'd give it a try and see how he got on."
"Did he say why?"
"Nope. But to be honest, I get the impression that he likes the company."
"Doesn't he get that up in the Castle? There seem to be hundreds of them up there. More if you include all the King's hanger-on cousins."
"I don't know. They don't seem all that friendly, even with each other. And even when you see them out drinking together, you get the impression that most of them don't have that much in common. Maybe one or two of them are friends. But most of them just seem like relatives."
"You can choose your friends. You can't choose your family?." Clem commented, hoping he sounded wise as he did.
"Pretty much," Winston answered, "and maybe more so for the likes of Them."
"So how's this one doing?"
"He's a hard worker, he's picking stuff up right quick, and he genuinely seems to like being here. He keeps the trouble down, too. They see him behind the bar and either stay mighty polite or take their arguments outside. And sure, he'll sometimes excuse himself because 'something's come up', but he always lets me know, and he'll usually make up the time another day."
Clem looked at Winston, not quite believing what he was hearing.
"That's hard to get my head around," he said, "that one of them would be happy to associate with the likes of us."
"If I had to guess, I'd say he wasn't brought up Gentry. But I don't feel I know him well enough to ask, yet."
"I can understand that."
"And he's brought in some extra business. I've seen more of the Gentry types in here since he started working behind the bar than I've had since I opened."
"Is that good or bad? I've heard that when they come, trouble follows. Like over at the Brass Cat, and that Café Tuscans place."
"I don't know, to be honest, Clem. It's a tricky one. But Arthur. He's alright. And I'll not deny that its handy to be able to call on him when you get a problem with the Gentry thinking they're too good to pay the bill."
Clem was about to answer when the door to the kitchen opened, and the lad came back in carrying a bowl of stew on a tray, which he put down in front of the other man.
"Sorry about the wait..." he said, apologetically, "I had to sort something out."
"No need to worry about that," Clem answered.
"Another Chippenham Red with that?"
"Yes please."
"Coming right up," the lad answered as he took the tankard and refilled it from the keg.
He didn't misjudge it this time.
"How did you get on with that customer?" Winston asked him, as Arthur poured Clem's drink, and Clem put the coins on the bar.
But the younger man hesitated before answering, as if he wasn't sure he should criticise one patron in front of another. He put the tankard on the tray with the bowl of stew, and then Clem looked from one to the other, and took the hint. He picked up his meal and walked over to Davey and Susie, leaving owner and barkeep to talk.
"It was one of my lazy cousins," Arthur said, finally, and Winston got the impression he was embarrassed that one of his kin should have tried something as cheap as trying to stiff them on the bill, "Ainsley, if I remember rightly. He's one of the ones assigned to the Castle bureaucracy."
"And?"
"I politely reminded him that there are people who actually have to work for a living in this City, and that businesses need to make their costs too. And I may have also mentioned that if I heard of him trying something like this again, I would have words with my grandfather. All of a sudden, he was very apologetic and settled up without another word. He even added a bit of extra tip."
"Have you let Maddie know?"
"I took the money over to her personally. And at least he had the grace to look sheepish as he left with the girlfriend he was failing to impress by bullying the likes of you and Maddie."
Winston looked at the younger man, and smiled. He reached over and tousled the boy's hair, and then realised that he probably shouldn't have been so familiar with him. After all, this wasn't just another common lad, working for him. But while Arthur was obviously surprised, he didn't seem to mind.
"I think you're settling in here pretty well," Winston said, almost paternally.
"I appreciate you giving me the chance," Arthur answered, "it's good to just get out and about, without anyone paying too much attention to me."
"Oh they're paying attention, alright lad," Winston said, with a chuckle, "but you know. Screw 'em. If they have a problem with it, then it's their business. I'm glad to have you here."
"Thank-you," the younger man answered, and went back to the washing up without another word.
"He's not like the others, is he?" Davey said to Clem as they watched the older man and his new barkeep.
Idly, Davey noticed that while Winston was a generally solid guy - after all, he did used to be a soldier, and had kept himself fit since coming home - the lad looked him in the eye.
"Maybe, maybe not," Clem answered, "after all, he acted just like them the other day."
Davey looked back at Clem and shrugged.
"Sounds like there was good reason for that. If the guy he stabbed really was a traitor."
"That's my problem just there. 'If he really was a traitor'. But we only have the Gentry's word for that."
"Ach, you're too suspicious, Clem Carver," Susie said, glancing at the young man by the sink, and Clem thought he heard her sigh, "he seems like such a sweet boy. And such a pretty lad, too. P'raps he just wants to see how us normal people live. Maybe get to know some of us. And good for him. I wish more of them would. But apart from the Mayor, most of them don't bother with us - they just bother with each other."
"Nah. Them Gentry never do anything without a reason," Clem said, firmly, "He'll be no different, you'll see."
"Sounds like a wager to me," Davey said, with a chuckle, and offered Clem his hand.