Cold in Carcassonne

It had turned cold and wet in Carcassonne. Gaius and Margaret put on their coats and walked up to the castle.

Baby Pierre is probably up there already, said Margaret. He is fond of the stones.

They walked along the Rue Trivalle, through the Jardin du Prado, over the drawbridge and under the high stone archway.

Don't you love the stones! said Margaret. They are so beautiful, and think of the history they've seen. The Cathars, the Crusades, the Visigoths, the Albigensians, the Spanish, the gypsies, the ....

Margaret! said Gaius. You are hopelessly mixed up. And you have forgotten the Romans.

The Romans, said Margaret.

Baby Pierre appeared, holding a purple ice cream.

Don't you think it's a bit cold for ice-cream? said Margaret.

What kind is it? asked Gaius.

Miel de Lavande, said Baby Pierre.

It's dripping, said Gaius.

No it isn't, said Baby Pierre. It's made by an artisan. They don't use dripping.

I mean that it's beginning to drip, said Gaius. Why don't you lick it?

I don't want to lick it, said Baby Pierre.

Then why did you buy it? asked Margaret.

I'm missing my cousin, said Baby Pierre. I wish Lavender was here.

Ahh, said Margaret. How sweet.

Ahh, said Gaius. If you aren't going to eat it, give it to me.

Here, said Baby Pierre.

Gaius licked the Miel de Lavande.

Hmm, he said. It's too cold. And now it's beginning to rain.

Let's get a coffee, said Margaret. Coming Baby Pierre?

No, said Baby Pierre. I'm catching the bus to Quillan.