It was clear that it had rained during the night, for the grass was slick with it, and the servants of Lord Merryhahn had hair lank from working in the rain. They had the tired look of men who had been awake much, doing much, and who longed for this one additional duty to be finished so that they could seek their own tents. Their checked green and white livery was stained with mud.
The village Commons had been transformed in the night. Where once a grassy field had stood, where the villagers could graze their animals, there was now another small village of green and white tents. Over the largest of these flew a rain-bedraggled banner. Only the sure knowledge that it carried the device of a rooster clutching a serpent in its talons allowed it to be identified in the morning as the tent of Lord Merryhahn.
Past the tent city, in the area in front of the Church, there was a sort of open pavillion, and within it was set a few small tables and benches, and a great wooden chair. This would be, no doubt, the place where the Open Court would be held. It was common practice for the nobility to travel, from time to time, to all of the places they held in vassalage, and to hear the grievances of the people. Some lords were, of course, more just than others, but it was important for a noble to at least appear to love justice, if he wished his people to support him.
The servants led the adventurers not to the largest tent, nor to the Open Court, but to another large tent, from which a glorious medley of scents drifted on the morning breeze. Whatever was being served within was surely a breakfast fit for the eating!
The servants paused just outside the tent flap.
"How shall you be introduced?" one said.
