Much Ado About Murder

Начало книги

It was a quiet night in the taproom of the Toad and Badger as Tuck Smythe sat down to a simple supper of dark oat bread, ale, and pottage. A quiet night at the Toad and Badger tavern, however, did not necessarily mean the night was quiet in any generally accepted meaning of the phrase. It simply meant that no crockery was being hurled, no furniture was being overturned, and no skulls were being broken. (Admittedly, broken skulls did not occur as frequently as broken furniture and crockery, largely because players, as a rule, had less of a tendency toward violence than histrionics.) Smythe knew that the occasional broken bone or two was not altogether out of the question, but then such incidents did not often involve actors, who usually knew well enough to make a timely exit to the wings whenever the action center stage became a bit unruly.

Despite the general tumult over which the ursine Courtney Stackpole presided as the innkeeper, Smythe took comfort in the fact that the Toad and Badger was not really the sort of tavern where blood could flow as freely as small beer. Those sorts of places could more readily be found in Southwark or Whitechapel, where seamen from the trading ships and mercenaries from the foreign wars often brawled with the weatherbeaten rivermen and tough drovers from the Midlands. In such places, on any given night, blades could be drawn as readily as ale. The Toad and Badger, fortunately, was not that sort of tavern. It was rowdy and boisetrous, to be sure, but for all that, it was more loud than lethal and its charm lay primarily in the eccentricities of its patrons, most of whom were simple tradesmen and entertainers.

Читать дальше →