The night grew darker and darker. A thick veil of black clouds pushed its rumbling waves farther and farther every minute, until even the light of the last star was faded away. The cracked stones of the streets paving were washed by the unceasing rain, while the water loudly ran down the eaves into the shallow ditches. The glimmering lanterns swayed in the wind with a low creak. Their dim light got lost in the narrow alleys running between the buildings. The roads were lined with about six dozen houses, several of which had an attic or upper floor, and although some, especially those on the outskirts of the town, could be called huts rather than houses, the community left no one in poverty. No one went hungry, no one had to shiver through the cold of the night, and no child was left uncared for. If someone wanted to settle here, they had to agree to these unwritten rules. This land has seen too much suffering. No one was left behind. Although there weren't so many people living here that everyone didn't know each other, it was still the largest settlement within reasonable distance, so the locals referred to it as a city among themselves. Since two wide roads crossed in the middle, the travelers called it Backroads. The surrounding countryside could be easily explored in a day or two. Windswept meadows, wooded groves, and arable fields spread out in all directions, on which narrow dirt roads and footpaths leading to small villages meandered, and in some places lakes hid at the bottom of the hills. The faraway landscape faded into the untouched wilderness, and the wilderness into the craggy, murky blue roots of high mountain peaks, or the horizon. Under the dark skies of the stormy night, the dim lights of distant villages flickered as candlesticks in the rain.
During the day, thanks to the crossroads, although it was infrequent, there was daily traffic. The fertile land and forests offered food and raw materials, while all other needs were provided by the small trade, allowing the locals to live in modest prosperity. An inn was also built in the middle of the city at the intersection of the main roads, which became both accommodation for travelers and the center of local community life. On days of rest, many people from the surrounding villages also visited here to meet their acquaintances and to listen to the latest stories left behind by travelers as memories. Although the days passed uneventful in this corner of the world, most of the people who lived here would not have left their homes behind for the whole world.
A soft, wavering yellowish light filtered through the windows of the inn, whose opalescent glass occasionally revealed the shadows of blurred figures floating by. There were about four dozen chairs on the lower floor, and as it had become customary on these days of the week, on most of them sat someone, while those who did not have room around the tables stood by the windows chatting and sipping their drinks. The uneven, dark wood paneling of the walls was decorated with pictures of distant lands, old swords and coats of arms, among which a deer's trophy silently guarded the guests. In the fireplace opposite the entrance, logs crackled under the dancing fire. A chandelier made of wagon wheel and countless tiny flames from candlesticks hanging from the wooden posts lit up many faces. Blacksmiths boasted of their finest works while explaining with great skill to their apprentices about the ways of the trade, who nodded briskly while glancing sideways at the smiling, whispering girls watching them. The sun-kissed, brown faces of the farmers wore smiles of contentment as they sipped the fruits of their labour. Their wives, in a pleasant bemusement, waved and laughed at their husband's jokes, while elsewhere young lads, emboldened by their drinks, teased giggling, blushing girls. Sometimes even a shy kiss was exchanged. Merchants and travellers leaned over their tables, drawing invisible maps with their fingers on the knobbly wood, rubbing their chins as they wondered where to go next. At the back tables, a few armed men were making merry. One of them, his lute in hand, accompanied with a broad smile the tale of his friend, who, waving his imaginary sword in the air, told of his latest skirmish, while his every word was listened to with amazement by those around him. Everyone was immersed in the cheerfulness of their own company, their own world, or in the curves of the ladies on their laps.
The bartender was deep in thought, wiping the wooden dishes behind his counter, while a young boy and girl hustled keenly among the tables. The boy, competing with himself, trying to get as many pints between his fingers as he could, from time to time glanced stealthily at the girl. There was a strict order around the long counter. On it, candles flickered at a measured distance from each other, while clean wooden bowls and cups towered below, and long-legged chairs stood disciplined in front of it. At its end stood two smaller barrels, their taps set exactly parallel, while at the base of the wall much larger ones waited to be tapped. Meat, bread, vegetables and fruits were lined up on the long, stout tabletop laid on top of them, while on the shelves were bottles of various sizes neatly arranged next to each other. Between the stones of the stove, a heavy pot of fragrant stew was simmering. As his neighbor, a small table kept him company, on which a pile of smudgy dishes patiently watched the water warming up in a nearby vat.
Loud grunts, hiccups, or other stomach sounds indecently colored the rippling clamor. More and more plates, bowls, pints and cups appeared on the tables. Mainly pints and cups. As the evening passed with good cheer, many people's eyes were no longer completely clear, and neither was their speech. The harder they found it to understand each other at a table, the more they nodded with conviction and agreement, and the louder and more they spoke at once. More and more often, people would disappear behind the door to the backyard and then return with a look of sincere relief on their faces, or with deepening malaise. Some went upstairs to rest their weariness in the modest one-night rooms, some using both their hands and feet for a moment, and some stumbled down, realizing that the noise would not let them sleep well anyway, nor was it worth it. Those who just stopped here for one night, tired though they were after the long journey they had left behind, decided to allow themselves this time to indulge in a blissful, serene carefreeness. Tomorrow became tomorrow's worry. None of the locals went home either, since the next day was a day of rest, and now was the time to cheer. The sultry warmth and the smoky, alcoholic smell steaming from people's bodies, their pipes and the fireplace permeated the room and soaked into its every corner, such as the comforting atmosphere.
Which was blown awake in an instant by the sudden cold wind.
186Please respect copyright.PENANAFfXw5frnPZ