The Half-a-Moon Inn Read Online Free PDF Page B

door and stamp the snow off their feet.
    â€œWelcome, me fine gentlemen,” Miss Grackle called out. “Inside with you, me worthies, and thaw out your bones—and there’s hot soup and dumplings waiting for you as well.” She brought out six loaves of bread she’d baked while Aaron was asleep, distributed them around the tables and continued bustling about, collecting her fees, bringing out the dishes, stirring the soup.
    â€œUp now, boy,” she hissed into Aaron’s ear, “and serve the gentlemen their soup.”
    Aaron rose slowly to his feet, ladled out the soup and painfully made his way about the room, setting the bowls in front of the guests. He looked into their faces but recognized no one, and when all the callers had received their soup, Miss Grackle sat him down beside her, apart from the others.
    â€œJust look at ’em,” she muttered, indicating the guests. “A pack of beggars and rascals, wouldn’t you say, Sam?”
    Aaron nodded his head.
    â€œAye, lad, that’s the most of ’em for certain, and too poor to be worth the bother of plucking their purses. But that ain’t the whole of ’em, lad. Nay, boy, there’s more to ’em than that. And I’ll take you into me confidence, I will, and tell you a secret.”
    Her eyes grew wide and excited, her voice dropped down to a whisper. “There’s men of wealth sitting before us, Sam, men that live in great manors with more rooms than you could count, with flocks of servants scurrying about ’em like mice. Aye, lad, could be there’s noble blood among ’em tonight, lords and earls, and dukes as well!”
    Aaron peered at the guests in amazement. They dribbled soup down their chins and onto their chests, each man guarding his bowl like a dog with a bone. Could these be the manners of dukes and earls?
    â€œNaturally, they’re dressed up like kings when they’re home in their castles. But when they have to go traveling from one place to another, why they get up in rags like these ones here, lest the thieves and scoundrels cluster about ’em like flies. Me own sharp-witted mother reasoned it out herself, and spent the whole of her life just waiting to snare such a one. Oh, they’re a crafty lot, they are, but I’ve got me a trick for sniffing ’em out, and you can help me with it, too, me little nuthatch. Now get some food into you, boy—and mind you stay clear of the dumplings.”
    Aaron moved his feet slowly across the room to the fireplace, ladled out a bowlful of soup and sat down by himself near the fire. He wondered why she’d ordered him to keep away from the dumplings, but before he could begin eating, one of the guests called out for more, and Miss Grackle commanded him to fill the man’s bowl.
    â€œMe compliments on the soup,” the man said to Miss Grackle. “Sturdiest soup I ever come across.”
    Miss Grackle put a dainty smile on her face. “Too kind, sir, too kind. And to give you the truth of the matter, any praise for the food belongs to the boy there.”
    Aaron turned and looked at her in surprise. What had he done besides peel the potatoes? He brought the man his steaming bowl and sat himself down to his own, stirring it slowly to let it cool, puzzling over Miss Grackle’s remark.
    â€œMe compliments to the both of ye, then,” the man continued. “But have you heard the news of Lord Tom, good madam?”
    Instantly, Aaron’s ears pricked up.
    â€œEscaped out of prison he did, so they say. Burst the chains round his arms as though they were thread, and gnawed through the chains on his feet with his teeth. Run off back to the woods, they say, and a tidy reward waiting for any that knows where he is.”
    Aaron’s eyes bulged with terror, but Miss Grackle looked perfectly calm.
    â€œAnd who,” she asked, “is Lord Tom?”
    Aaron gaped in amazement. Surely