Page 75 of Her Highland Prophecy
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The fairgrounds seemed impossibly small compared to what she remembered. In the future, it had been a large sprawling space, centered around the large tent where there was music and dancing. From there, several small avenues featuring stalls and tents on either side were set up with rides like the carousel Grace had insisted they ride on available in several different places.
Despite the grime that had covered both the place and people when they visited in the future, that fair would have been considered downright glamorous in comparison to what she was looking at right now.
The only thing she could compare it to was what she imagined an animal market to be. There were still stalls set up where both gypsies and locals showed their wares, but where there had been rides and games in the future there were now animal pens and hay bales. The pretty trinkets that she and her friends had spent an afternoon looking at were replaced by a variety of grains, foods, and household items. There was even a blacksmith.
And the smell! Diana had slowly been getting used to living in an era were bathing was usually optional and perfumes and nice-smelling soaps were curiosities rather than readily available items. Her brain had largely started ignoring the odor of unwashed people, even though it had been a bit of a struggle to do so in the beginning.
But even the Castle, with its stables on the grounds did not smell as strongly as the fair did. Perhaps it was the sheer volume of animals and people crammed into the limited space, but it made her nose wrinkle in disgust and hurry to catch up to Gordain who was nearly past the last of the tents and wagons.
“This way, Princess,” he said as soon as she was close enough. “We will get a room at the inn and ye can start yer search for yer gypsies on the morrow.”
Diana nodded and gestured for him to lead the way again. With the sun starting to set soon she could see the wisdom in his words. Even now, she noticed that people were starting to pack their wares.
“Where is the inn?” she asked once they reached the village itself. She avoided looking around too much this time, the memory of her realization that she was in the past still too fresh in her mind to feel comfortable with comparisons between the past and the future there.
Gordain gestured at the largest building in their vicinity. It was not as large as Sutherford Castle, or even as large as her own house in the future, but in there was nothing else as tall or big nearby that even compared.
As they steadily got closer, she realized that the inn itself extended to the nearby buildings she had seen as well. There was a stable off to the right and what looked like a kitchen and an outhouse further in the back, almost hidden behind the main bulk of the building.
They left their horses with one of the stable hands, Gordain deftly tossing the boy a coin. He placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her into the darkened tavern that she supposed must serve as the entrance to the inn as she didn’t see another door anywhere. A small wooden sign above the entrance proclaimed it to beThe White Cony.
A few people were sitting around the tables inside, but their conversations were hushed and the atmosphere relaxed. There was a rich aroma of some sort in the air that was mouthwatering. It felt like ages since they left the Castle and she had had a cooked meal.
Gordain looked over when he heard her inhale and stifled a smile.
“What?” she asked, her hands smoothing down her hair and dress instinctually.
“Nothing,” he said, but she could still see the smile hidden on his face.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
“It’s just…” he paused but then continued at her raised eyebrow, “ye are smelling cony stew. It is what the inn is named after.”
“It smells good.”
“Aye, it does,” he confirmed.
“Why is that funny though?”
He chuckled. “Cony is rabbit, Princess,” he said and the smile that had begun to form at his mirth dropped off of her face.
“Oh,” she said, her stomach slightly turning, remembering the half-skinned rabbit in Gordain’s hands. She buried her face in his chest in embarrassment as he continued to chuckle.
“Let’s go, Princess.” He guided her to the counter.
“What can I do for ye fine folk, this mornin’?” the man standing behind the bar counter asked.
“Do ye have a room for me and my wife, Sir?” Gordain asked. Diana blushed slightly as he referred to her as such. It sounded like everything she had ever wanted and yet everything she couldn’t have.
“For how long?” the man asked, his ruddy face completely disinterested.
Gordain shot her a look and she shrugged. If she found the gypsy early enough tomorrow, then she would be gone the next morning.
“Two nights?” she suggested tentatively. A brief look of pain crossed his green eyes but it was gone almost as soon as it registered.
“Two nights,” he affirmed to the innkeeper, “and we have our horses in yer stables.”
