Humphrey gave the old man a slight smile. "And what might be on the menu tonight, Master Barker?" he asked.

The inn keeper returned a big smile, although it was hard to see his mouth beneath all of those whiskers. The only way Humphrey could be sure Barker was smiling was that his mustache arched up, almost as much as his eyebrows did. "Chicken stew, me lord," he announced proudly, "with fresh bread and honey."

"Very good." On the wall behind Barker were several shelves on which mugs and leather tankards stood, along with a number of corked jugs. "Bring us over three mugs of ale while we wait for our food, if you would," Humphrey said, and then turned away.

"And where might ye hail from, me lord; yerself and yer young lady?" Barker asked, before the knight could move more then a step from the bar.

Humphrey considered ignoring the question, but decided it would arouse suspicion if he did not answer, so turned back to the old man. "I am a merchant of South Port, sir," he said, quietly, but the tone of his voice indicated that he was not pleased with the question. "My niece and I are headed north, on business," Humphrey added, to make sure Barker knew that was all the information he would get.

The old man merely smiled and asked, "So, where might ye be headed then, me lord?"

As much as Humphrey wanted to be angry at the old man for prying into his affairs, Barker was too genial a fellow to be mad at, so Humphrey leaned onto the wooden plank bar and replied in a whisper. "I plan to travel over to your fine fire, and attempt to dry myself out just a bit, if that meets with your approval, good sir."

Barker, who had leaned in toward Sir Humphrey to hear of his secret destination, arched his eyebrows up even higher than before, then leaned back and laughed out loud, causing the two men by the window to look over in surprise. "Aye," Barker said, holding onto his stomach as he laughed, "ye should most like do just that, me lord, and I'll bring yer ale over, straightaway."

"My thanks, Master Barker," Humphrey said, then turned toward the fire and Isabelle, who was looking at him with wide eyes, wondering what had transpired between the two men.

He moved over and sat down next to Isabelle and opened his cape, allowing the welcome warmth of the fire to reach his soaked clothing. She had removed her cloak, and it lay across another bench, steaming slightly as moisture evaporated from the cloth. "Everything is fine," he whispered, in answer to her unasked question, "and we will have food, shortly."

Isabelle smiled and nodded, her hands extended out toward the flames. "We have rooms for the night, then, Uncle?" she asked, with another smile.

"Aye," he said, rubbing his hands together before the fire. "Top of the stairs and all the way to the right. The two rooms at the end of the hall."

She nodded, again, as Barker arrived with three mugs, filled with foaming ale. He set them down on a table near the fire, smiled, and then left the room through a small door near the end of the bar. They moved over to the table and sat, Isabelle sipping at her drink, while Humphrey downed half of his in several swallows, before setting the mug back down.