Redemption of a Fallen Woman(36)

As they approached the property two large and half-starved dogs set up a frenzy of barking and brought the farmer out to investigate. He silenced the dogs with an oath and then came to look at his visitors. A short and burly individual of middle years, his swarthy face was stubbled with several days’ growth of beard. Small dark eyes regarded the newcomers suspiciously.

‘What do you want here?’

‘Shelter from the storm,’ replied Harry.

‘Better you find an inn.’

‘There is no inn close enough.’

‘My house cannot accommodate so large a group.’

Harry kept his tone level. ‘The barn, then. We’ll pay, of course.’ He tossed over a coin.

The man caught it, examining it closely. His eyes widened a little and then he smiled, revealing stained and uneven teeth amongst which were prominent gaps. ‘This way, señor.’

They followed him across the yard and waited while he dragged open the door. Then he gestured for them to enter. The barn, though old, was well-maintained and smelled of hay and grain and horses. In the gloom Elena could make out half a dozen stalls, though only two were occupied, currently by heavy draught horses. In one corner were several feed bins, various barrels and a small pile of sacks filled with corn. At the far end a ladder led up to what looked like a hay loft.

‘You can sleep up there,’ continued their host. ‘In the meantime there are stalls for your horses and hay and grain besides.’

Harry nodded. ‘We also require food ourselves.’

‘That will cost extra.’

‘Naturally. What do you have?’

‘Tortilla. Jamón.’

‘All right.’ Harry held up another coin. ‘We want bread and wine as well.’

The man’s eyes glinted. ‘As you wish.’

‘We want the food as soon as may be.’

The farmer grunted assent and with that he left them and hurried off towards the farmhouse. Outside the rain fell faster.

‘A real charmer,’ said Jack.

‘We have shelter and food,’ replied Concha. ‘We can survive without the charm.’

‘True enough.’

Harry looked at the others. ‘Let’s see to the horses, shall we?’

By the time they had unsaddled and rubbed them down the rain was falling in earnest. Elena could only feel relieved to have found shelter for the night. It might not be a palace but it would keep them dry. While the men went to fetch hay, she and Concha measured out a ration of grain for each horse.

They had just finished when the farmer returned. He carried a lantern which he hung on a nail by the door. With him were two younger men, in their late teens or early twenties perhaps. Seeing an undoubted resemblance to the farmer, Elena guessed that they were his sons. One carried a large tray, the other a jug and some horn cups. At their father’s instruction they set their respective burdens down on a couple of the larger barrels. Then they turned to survey the newcomers. They glanced at Harry and Jack but their gaze lingered on the two women. Seeing those hot, lascivious looks Elena felt her neck prickle.

Their host smiled unctuously. ‘See, here is your meal. I hope you will enjoy it.’

‘I’m sure we shall,’ replied Harry.

‘If you require anything more, be sure to let me know.’

‘We’ll do that,’ said Jack.

The farmer’s gaze flicked his way and for a moment the two men regarded each other steadily. The farmer was first to look away.

‘We’ll leave you to it, then.’

He turned towards his sons and then jerked his head towards the door. Then all three trooped out. Beyond the door was a grey curtain of rain. Elena shivered and turned away.

‘Let’s eat, shall we?’

‘Good idea.’ Harry smiled. ‘Pull up a barrel.’

In fact, the food, though simple, was surprisingly good. As they ate the rain intensified and thunder rumbled in the distance. Elena was thankful to be indoors, no matter how humble the accommodation. Quite apart from the misery of being soaked through there was the added risk of lightning strikes. This open countryside would offer no protection at all, as Harry was no doubt aware. They had been lucky. They might be sitting on barrels and eating from wooden platters but it was a lot better than the alternative.

Harry’s voice reclaimed her attention. ‘It looks like the hay loft tonight. Shall you mind too much?’

‘I shan’t mind at all,’ she replied with perfect truth. ‘Anything is better than trying to sleep on sodden ground during a storm.’

‘Yet I think few ladies would view the prospect of a barn with equanimity.’

‘Soft living makes one spoilt. A few nights in the open restores an appreciation of the comforts taken for granted before.’