Night on the Town

An afternoon of ale and roast beef filled Eirik’s belly nicely. He and Ruefin Broadblade hadn’t left their seats since arriving at the tavern and finding themselves in a crowd of men from their own company with which to trade stories and insults. Eventually the conversation turned to more traditional soldierly pursuits.

“What I need now is a soft bed and a warm woman. It’s been a poor campaign for women and my cup runneth over. That place down by the harbour entrance had some decent-looking girls - I had a look when we passed by.” Ruefin belched loudly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Eirik laughed aloud and took a good swallow of ale. “You go dip your wick there and you’ll be in the herbalist’s first thing in the morning with either flea-bites or the pox.”

“I’d rather it were flea-bites,” said Ruefin, although his expression suggested he’d risk the pox as well.

“Yeah, well I’d prefer neither, thanks. There’s a better place along the road going upwards the keep. The girls are clean, the beds are soft and they even have a bathtub.”

“A bathtub?” Ruefin’s eyebrows flew upward in surprise.

“Large vessel full of water. Used for removing stench,” Eirik said, gently fanning a hand beneath his armpit.

“So?” Ruefin clearly had difficulty connecting the idea of hiring a woman for the night and a having a bath.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can smell both of us, and brother, it ain’t roses. You pay a couple of bits for a bath and you’ll get the lady for a lot less.”

Ruefin digested this astonishing news along with a tankard of ale. The whole concept was alien to him and something he’d never considered.

“Seriously? Enough to offset the cost of the bath?”

“More than enough. And you’ll get a much more enthusiastic service too.”

“How so?”

Eirik sighed, put down his tankard and rested his elbows on the table. He leaned in towards Ruefin with a smirk on his lips.

“How keen would you be to eat a sausage that smelled like the camp latrine?”

Ruefin frowned for a minute, then a smile spread across his features and a roar of laughter shook the table.

“Then I shall be a scented sausage for the lady’s delectation,” he declared, loudly enough to send every man within earshot into gales of laughter. Abruptly Ruefin fell silent, worry lining his forehead. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be unmanly?”

“What? To be clean? By the Gods, I’m not suggesting perfume, Ruefin. Just chisel the filth off your cock before you present it to the poor woman.” By this time, Eirik had his head in his hands in simultaneous mirth and despair. He couldn’t understand why Ruefin found the matter so difficult to grasp, and felt genuine pity for every woman his friend had ever coupled with.

“Come on,” Eirik said, downing his ale and grabbing his pack. “Let’s lock our stuff up and get moving before we’re too pissed to be any use to the ladies.”

The two men closed the door on the rowdy party inside the tavern and headed into the market quarter. People still thronged the streets even though the sun had long-since set. Braziers and crackling torches lit their way along the cobbles of the main street now crowded with groups of sailors and the obligatory girls hoping to winkle gold from their drunken fingers later.

Eirik led the way thought the market and under a stone arch that led into the classier part of the city. Ruefin was impressed with his companion’s local knowledge.

“You’ve spent some time here then?”

“Oh yes, I’ve picked up a fair bit of work here over the years. The pay’s better than out in the provinces, but the beer’s dearer.”

They turned into a narrow street and through a metal gate leading to a large house. A high wall surrounded the building and from the other side they could hear laughter and the occasional squeal. Eirik and Ruefin grinned at each other and tugged on the bell rope.

Within moments the door opened and a matronly woman in her middle years greeted them. She looked them up and down with a speculative eye, clearly unimpressed by their state of unkempt inebriation.

“Good evening gentlemen. What would you fine, fighting men be looking for?”

Eirik quickly clamped a hand over Ruefin’s mouth before he had chance to disgrace himself, then gave the madam his most charming smile.

“We’ve had our fill of fighting, ma’am, and we’re here on matters of pleasure, not business,” he said, still keeping Ruefin’s mouth firmly closed. A few snorts and grunts escaped but nothing that couldn’t be ignored. The madam seemed to relax and opened the door a little wider.

“And what would be your pleasure, sir?”

“First a bath to banish the stink of battle, followed by a night of ease in the company of your lovely ladies.”

“Then come in and be welcome. Go through to the courtyard and I’ll have ale brought while the girls heat the water.”

Eirik and Ruefin reclined on cushioned couches beside a small, elegant fountain. Silken girls attended similarly relaxing patrons, and Ruefin could barely keep his eyes in his head. His mouth hung open like a drawbridge until eventually one of the girls remarked on it.

“You must excuse my friend, he’s unaccustomed to establishments of quality,” Eirik said, reaching over and patting Ruefin on the shoulder. The girl giggled and pressed goblets of sweet wine into their hands.

“Then this one’s on me - we have it made special.”

Ruefin took the goblet and sipped warily. His eyes closed as the ruby wine slipped smoothly down and nestled warmly in his belly.

“I’ve never tasted anything like it,” he whispered with what was almost reverence. Eirik said nothing and drank, knowing very well which spices were in the wine and why.

“Don’t have more than one cup or you’ll be up all night,” Eirik said.

“I didn’t come here to sleep,”

“That’s not what I meant,”

Ruefin stared at the goblet, then back at Eirik. “You mean it -”

“Puts oak in your staff. Yes, that’s what I mean,”

“This is quite a place,”

No sooner had they finished the wine, than a young lovely in a white apron arrived to take them to the bath-house. A large tub awaited them and both cast ceremony aside along with their clothes and sank into the steaming water.

Eirik examined his new scars with satisfaction, although it was less to do with their ability to impress, and more about the fact that his ageing armour was still saving his hide. As he washed his face he felt the diagonal mark across his lips and counted his blessings that he still had a face. Helmets restricted his vision and he hadn’t worn one for years, but after this particular wound, he almost changed his mind. The wound had healed neatly though, and would serve as a reminder against complacency.

“Leave it be, you’re still pretty,” Ruefin said. “At least, you will be when you wash your hair.”

“Shut up and sort your beard out - I swear I saw a badger in there earlier.”

The banter always kept them going on the long campaigns. Eirik’s easygoing nature made him popular among the sell swords, but the best rapport had come with Ruefin. Eirik respected a man bigger and stronger than himself, and Ruefin was the man who always had his back. In return, Eirik kept his friend out of trouble in town. The big man had a big temper, and some times it took all Eirik’s wits to keep a simple, law-abiding bar brawl from turning into a deeply unlawful bloodbath. Still, it kept life interesting.

By the time they were done, the water was a sludgy brown with a nasty-looking scum floating around the edge of the tub. Ruefin wrinkled his face and nodded to himself.

“I think I see what you mean,” he muttered.

“You will in a minute. Let’s go and find ourselves some company,”

The courtyard was busier now, and for each patron there was at least two girls in attendance, fetching drinks and offering food and flattery. They barely had time to sit before yet more drinks appeared before them. Ruefin reverted to type and soon had a pair of brunettes perched on his knees whilst he regaled them with stories of his strength and valour.

Eirik accepted a goblet of spiced wine from a narrow-waisted girl with golden hair, and she settled onto his lap with professional accuracy.

“How about you, handsome? You look like a soldier to me,” she said. Her accent wasn’t local, but her demeanour was very much of the city.

“I was once, when I was younger. I sell my skills for real money now,” he said.

“Now there’s a coincidence, so do I.” She leaned closer, her face close to his, and her fingertips tracing the scar across his lips. “Is there anything I can tempt you with tonight? I’m sure there’s something I have that you might want,” she said, her voice a whisper laced with the promise of forbidden delights.

“What’s your name?”

“Bella,”

“I’m Eirik. Take me to bed, Bella. I want it all.”