Ahtaswintha pulls the reins, as the shriek sound of a female laughter rushes through the pitch black night piercing her ears. "For Freya’s sake, there must be a tavern somewhere around in this village."
As she sees a woman with a huge sword at her side crossing the path, she shakes her head, musing if it wouldn’t be too dangerous a place to have a meal and spend the night. But taverns are risky and beds for rent full of lice anywhere, so she would worry about that by the end of her journey.
The tavern is easy to find – as usually, just follow the sound of cursing and barking laughter. The door is a small line of flickering light, promising a warm place at the fire. Ahta gets off her ebony mare, the brave Mahto, and leaves her with 3 other horses waiting for their lords to leave the tavern; she will have her company for tonight.
Entering the pub, Ahtaswintha notices a little boy, looking like a servant, so she flicks him a small bronze coin and orders him to take care of the big dark brown mare outside.
The room is gloomy, only scarcely lit by the fire. Here and there laughter is roaring, men yelling for drinks, women shrieking – yes, this is certainly the place atta wanted her to spend the night, Ahta thinks and hides in her sagum – that wonderful dark-red cape her father kept among his treasures – and heads for the table nearest to the fireplace which, surprisingly enough, is vacant.
If there was a race for this place, she won it, she thinks, making herself at home in a warm spot.