One of the newcomers rose to confront him.
'We're with the Earl of Salisbury.'
'He's not a proper lord.' Harry strode forwards. 'Salisbury is a Beaufort. His uncle is Henry Beaufort and he's cuddling up to the Frogs. He wants to hand the whole fucking country over to them ... like they fucking own it.'
'Bishop Beaufort is working for a just peace,' the other countered.
'Fucking traitor!' Harry hurled a beer mug at him.
Gareth rose to join in but didn't get far.
'Where are you going, Big Boy?'
He found the dark-eyed girl beside him. She took his arm and rushed him to the stairs. They got there as a door was barred behind them. On the other side, the landlord was shouting at the warring factions, telling them that the earl's men were coming. The girl stopped at the first floor and looked out of the window. In the street below, burly men with truncheons were descending on the inn. They were led by a sergeant in full armour and looked more than a match for the rioters.
'We won't be disturbed,' the girl said. 'They won't come up here.'
She licked Gareth's ear and pulled him into a room.
'I think I fancy you.'