After a few games of Three Card Monte, which we played with a few mugs and a scrap of bread because of Agnes’ lack of cards, I go downstairs to the hay pile that is to be my bed. Agnes assures me she will take care of Griff and keep him out of my room. Now that she’s more aware of our situation, and that I’m not male, she won’t even allow us to consider taking up the same sleeping quarters.
Good ol’ Catholic England, right? Or would they be the Church of England by now? I can never remember.
I can’t help but think of what’s ahead of us as I lay down on the uncomfortable ground. There is a risk with any con, but here we’re looking at conning a man who’s managed to take over an entire village with his own scam. Village isn’t even right. He’s taken over a whole region, hasn’t he?
Why? Why has he taken it over? Did I hear him saying something about trying to sell things? Is it possible this is all just some elaborate grift to get him a ton of medieval relics to sell in the future? Is there really that much of a market for it? And wouldn’t there be an easier way to go about it?
Of course, we don’t even know when he’s from. He could be from further into the future than we are. Or less.
There are so many questions running through my head that when I do finally fall asleep, I do so uneasily, fearing we may be going into this new swindle with too little information to work with.
Go to Chapter Twenty-Two