Guy was almost certain that this Irishman was more offended that he had called the whiskey swill then he was about anything else. He shouldn’t be surprised by that reaction. The Irish might be good fighters, but they were notorious drunkards as well. No wonder he ran into this one in a public drinking house.
“Morris Dancers look for any excuse to dress in costumes and drink,” he said, dismissing any notion that these people would actually have a holiday. But there was something in the back of Guy’s mind that was telling him there was a holiday for the Irish people. There was that time that The City had been over run by those nasty little leprechauns. That had been because of some holiday, hadn’t it?
What was it that he heard someone call it? Ah yes. He remembered.
“I am not certain how Saint Patrick’s Day falls under the claims of a pagan celebration,” he said, smirking into his glass of whiskey. The thought of reasonably minded people continuing to worship those pagan gods was enough to make a knight laugh.
“But I suppose some people will grab hold of anything they can claim as their own.”