Fixing Forcalquier by Eamonn Murphy

Author:Eamonn Murphy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub

CHAPTER THREE

The main square of Forcalquier was busy now; the taverns so full inside that men had to cluster outside also, on the streets. They waved flagons of ale, hailed passers-by noisily, but cheerfully, and shouted greetings at friends across the street who could not possibly have heard them amid that raucous din. The more boisterous crowd occupied the northern side of the square, which was particularly well blessed with taverns, and consisted mostly of farmers and day-labourers, many of them come in from the countryside around just for this event. As usual, on such occasions, some men were preposterously drunk. A few countrymen were condemning town dwellers as soft idlers, a few townsmen were labelling all country folk as oafs, but in general, they were a cheerful and well-contented mob.

Those natives not indulging in ale were assembled on the south side of the square, near the church and the fountain. Between these two landmarks was the steep road to the citadel, down which the Count and his entourage would come. The market stalls had been cleared away soon after noon and now, in the centre of the Bourget, a wooden dais had been erected. The Count would ascend it, make a speech and then exit the square westwards down the main street, taking another road around the knoll and on to the back entrance of his castle. Crowds lined the entire route.

Orcas and Orph had taken up a position by the fountain but after a few minutes, Orph declared a desire to move. "This side of the square is for sober citizens," he said, drawing amused glances from a few of the ladies and gentlemen nearby. "I want to be over there among the tavern-goers." His companions acquiesced and so they began, politely, to elbow their way through the crowd. In a quieter voice, Orph said to Orcas: "We're gathering information and alcohol loosens lips. The chatty personnel yonder are what we need."

Mij, well fed for the first time in weeks, was quietly happy. Since all his days were passed now in enforced idleness a day off made no difference to him, but he was enjoying the festivities. However, as they traversed the square he saw, on the eastern side, a group of men to whom idleness was a luxury and his mood changed abruptly. Making the most of their day off they were just about the noisiest of the revellers. Mij pointed them out to his companions.

"Look, over there. See that large group of drunken men?" His new friends looked, saw, nodded. "They're Baron Phiord's workers."

"So?" Orph shrugged, seeing no significance in the name.

Mij described the men in a few choice words; the kind that his mother, were she still alive, would not have been pleased to hear.

"You don't like them," Orcas ventured to guess.

Mij spat. "They're the cause of all our troubles. Farmer's sons," he sneered, "making themselves out to be craftsmen."

Orcas was about to question him on this when a great roar went up from the crowd, drowning out all hope of conversation.

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