[Bêthberry]

Ruthven cackled gruffly and the manner of her laughter surprised the young girl Gudryn.

"Heh," the old woman said, "Ye'd best never call me lady, as around these parts the rag dealer don't warrant much respect, unless it is to scrabble up some spare cash in a deal with her. But I thank 'e for your regard and won't hold it against ye."

The girls were aghast. What! Would the title of Lady carry something disrespectful? Of poor repute? Ruthven caught the nature of their thoughts in their faces.

"'Tis not all who hanker after the manner of ladyships, young lasses. Why, there's much howdy doing and sweeping things under the table to being a lady. And much putting on airs and fine manners that don't do justice to some of the more honourable folks who don't pretend." Ruthven nodded and pulled out a corncob pipe, tapping it against the table and knocking the dead ash out onto her emptied plate.

"W-wh-why, isn't it the finest thing to be a lady?" Ayeth asked.

Saeryn spoke up, perhaps a tad too quickly for her own interests in keeping her story a secret. "There's limits and lost opportunity to being a lady."

The twins stared at her for this comment while Eodwine calmly raised his eyebrow as a way of marking his interest. Falco was so surprised that he let his pipe go out.

"They's full of what you might say is mucky pride, a watered down thing from the real one, perhaps like the muck which yon Falco saved Eodwine from. My apologies, lads, I dinna mean to interrupt your story. Go on wi' it."

Behind everyone's shoulder the Innkeeper appeared, her feet having moved with the calm, quiet grace she was known for. "Aye indeed, there's ladies and then there's ladies. You can ask Ruthven for her stories of some later, but for now I wish to hear the conclusion of sorts which I'm sure Eodwine has for us." She took a seat beside the twins with a slight nod.

Ruthven, having tamped down some tobbacy in her pipe, had calmly lit it, blowing small puffs of smoke over the table, and then offerred to relight Falco's dead embers. The lasses would have stared at her, for they had never seen a woman smoke before, but they were too polite and embarassed now over what fine manners might or might not be, to say anything.

"We've three now who've missed the fabulous tale of the pondlet or the hollow and the miraculous aid and marvellous rise of the noble Messenger, Ayeth, Saeryn and Bethberry," she intoned between puffs, " Eodwine, bring them up to date on your tale. "