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“A party!?” Hearpwine cried, “Ah, that is welcome news indeed. Miss Aylwen never mentioned it to me, but I suppose that’s because I never gave her a chance. All I wanted to do was sing with her. It’s one of my greatest short-comings, I’m afraid. As soon as the music begins, all else goes from my mind. In fact, twice today I’ve intended to ask about a room at the Inn, only to have that thought driven from me by song. The last time was just now as I heard you come up the street, so I shall hold you to account for that!”
Liornung smiled. “If I am to pay the price for your love of music, I fear I shall have nothing left ere long.”
“Never fear, my old friend, the payment shall be in kind. A song in payment for the song that kept me from the bath! One of your new creations will be all that I ask of you in return for my absent-mindedness.” Together they entered the Inn. The maiden Maercwen followed them, gazing at them both with something that looked almost like admiration. Hearpwine was still embarrassed by his manner toward her earlier. My mother would have me by the ear right now, had she seen that. Dashing by a maid without so much as a greeting. In an attempt to make amends, he turned to her and asked if she were fond of music.
The lady smiled broadly. “I love my uncle’s fiddle-playing and singing, sir; and I heard your songs earlier – they were very good.”
Hearpwine grinned and bowed to her. “That is bed and bath for me both. The praise of a comely lady is the purest kind of payment for a bard such as myself. But you needn’t call me 'sir'. As your uncle will attest, my family’s estate is but a small one, and as you can see for yourself I am but a simple man of music seeking his fortune in the world. ‘Hearpwine’ will do between friends!”
She returned his smile, saying, “Then Hearpwine it shall be. And you must call me Maercwen.”
“You honour me; and long may you joy in the Mark!” He turned to Liornung. “And what news of you my old – and learned – friend. It pleases me beyond all words that you remember the boy who dogged your very shadow all those years ago. What roads have you travelled since you last charmed me with the enchantment of your instrument? Tell all, for if I am to write a song of you I must know everything!”
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