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“Who,” Freya asked, “is Pucker?”

A fair question and one Rory wondered as well. “An expert bowman,” the maid said. “’Tis said he saved the town from raiders from across the sea with nothing but four arrows. Hiding among the trees at our gates, he struck down their leader with his first mark. The second released the catapult, which would have no doubt been aimed at and shattered the gatehouse. The third killed two men who had broken from the others to find our bowman.”

“And the fourth?” Rory asked, skeptical of all three feats.

“None can agree on the fourth,” she replied.

“Then why claim four arrows saved the town?”

The maid seemed amused, but not mockingly so. “’Tis always been four knocks at the door to enter, just like the four arrows that saved the town, and this tavern, later renamed for Pucker. But none are certain what mark that fourth arrow found.”

“Was this secret room here back then?” Freya asked.

“Nay. After the near attack, the tunnels were built as a way to save the grain.”

“A tavern without ale would not serve its patrons well,” Rory teased. The maid who had been fluttering her lashes at him since she arrived at the table became a bit more overt. She gave Rory a look that none could easily misinterpret.

“No more than a man such as yourself without a woman.”

She was bold, this one. He glanced toward Freya.

“I meant no disrespect,” the maid said. “But ’tis clear you are companions and nothing more.”

Rory snickered at Freya’s expression. “No offense taken,” he assured her. Freya did not seem to agree.

“Here we ask no questions. Your company is yours to keep. The only one I will ask is if you prefer wine or ale? I will bring fresh bread and cheese as well.”

“Ale,” he said. The maid waited for him to share Freya’s preference as well. But, as she correctly surmised, Rory did not know it.

“Ale,” Freya said.

The serving maid bounded away back behind the screen. Before he and Freya could even begin a conversation, another much younger girl returned to their table with bread and cheese, followed by the other with their ale.

Bowing before she took her leave, she turned and winked at him.

“I’ve no words to describe what I’m feeling at this moment,” Freya said. Glasses clinked; a low murmur of voices sounded. And after a long swig of ale, some sense of normalcy after that encounter was restored.

“Content?” he said, and she rolled her eyes. Rory decided he would get her to do it again. “Glad to be in my presence?” Ha! A second eye roll. Twice in as much time as it took for him to take one sip of ale.

“You’ve not been here before?”

“Nay. I’d heard of Pucker’s Mark just twice, and only the day before I left for Edyington was I told how to find this place. And to ask, if I were to come here, if Pucker had found his mark. My uncle said the tavern keeper would understand.”

“So he was the tavern keeper? The old man abovestairs?”

“It would seem so, aye.”

“Why would he tell you of this place if you were to go to Edyington and then back to Bristol? We are too far west for it to have been convenient for your travels to come here.”

Rory finished chewing his bread. “I’ve wondered as much myself and intend to ask him when I next see him.”

“So it is a place for nobles, or wealthy merchants,” she whispered, looking around the room, “to come if they are worthy and in need of food and ale. Would not a manor house serve as well?”

“Perhaps not for a couple such as us. One looking to avoid questioning or notice.”

“Couple.” She chuckled. “As the maid could plainly see, we are nothing of the sort.”

Rory waited for her to finish laughing. “The idea amuses you?”