The landlady passed across Smith’s tankard without a word and glanced fearfully at the door. Three women sat in the taproom, trying to comfort a fourth who wept uncontrollably. The old man in the corner watched everything, said nothing, and sipped at his beer.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Smith said.
“Didn’t you hear the news?” The landlady snapped.
“What news was that?”
The landlady busied herself in polishing a pewter tankard. “Sir Francis Selby and the Excise men rounded up most of the village.”
“Why would he do that?” Smith sipped at his ale.
The landlady stared at him for a moment before she replied. “Sir Francis thinks they were running a cargo ashore.”
“And were they?” Smith asked.
“Yes.”
Smith nodded and took another swallow before he spoke again. “What happened to the villager
