Noah was still sore. His eye socket was healing, but the discoloration worse. He had slept poorly from the pain, and from the stress still in his body. And his mind had been on Alice all the time. It had been quite awful. So maybe a drink wasn't a good idea right now.

But he was a Longbottom.

Instead of spending the few pennies he had earned delivering a message today on food, he decided ale had all the nutrients he needed, and here he was, walking through the pub with his pint when he stopped and stared at two men he recognized. That was Anthony Rowe, wasn't it? What on earth was he doing talking to the constable as if they were chums.