He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. As he held the limp body, his mind rummaged through the last words of a dying man. Dying men rarely die whats the point?
“Guerre, insurrection, the royal family”
“Who, when?” Blazon implored but the light had gone out of the man’s anxious face.
“Mort! C’est dommage.” Blazon threw the body over his shoulder.”What am I to do? I am holding a dead man who was stabbed. Ah yes- the tavern.”
Blazon was grateful for the friend who in an instant would know what to do. Her eyes flickered. Though she was wrinkled and worn she was bright.
“Leave him to me. Stay near the fire you will have plenty of alibis. We will talk later Blazon.” She pushed him into the crowds.
His smile was strained but genuine.
As he ran back into the confusion of the fire, his mind tried to determine his next move. “The trouble must be coming soon. The fire must have been part of the plan.”
Little did he know that a man had just died because in his hurry he had knocked over a lantern in the straw. He had paid for that mistake with his life.
“We must move quickly” a hooded figure said to a man behind a wall.
“Yes mi lady.”