“Sit a spell,” said my host, pushing a bench in my direction with his foot. “Keep your back to the wall as you would. There will be no funny business.”

I did, and he rounded the table and seated himself across from me, the pitcher between us. It was good to sit for a few moments, to take my mind from my journey for just a little while, to drink the dark ale and listen to a lively tune.

“I will not be apologizing again,” said my companion, “nor explaining either. We both know it was no misunderstanding. But you have got the right on your side, it is plain to see.” He grinned and winked. “So I am for calling it a day, too. We will not starve. We will just not feast tonight. Tis a lovely jewel you are wearing. Tell me about it?”

“Just a stone,” I said.

The dancing resumed. The voices grew louder. I finished my drink and he refilled the flagon. The fire undulated. The night’s cold went out of my bones.

“Cozy place you’ve got here,” I said.

“Oh, that it is. Served us for time out of mind, it has. Would you be liking the grand tour?”

“Thank you, no.”

“I did not think so, but ‘twas my hostly duty to offer. You are welcome to join in the dancing, too, if you wish.”

I shook my head and laughed. The thought of my cavorting in this place brought me images out of Swift.

“Thanks anyway.”

He produced a clay pipe and proceeded to fill it. I cleaned my own and did the same. Somehow all danger seemed past. He was a genial enough little fellow, and the others seemed harmless now with their music and their stepping.

Yet… I knew the stories from another place, far, so far from here… To awaken in the morning, naked, in some field, all traces of this spot vanished… I knew, yet…