Sprouts

Scene: a dark, somewhat dingy room lit by a single candle. Bundled shapes lounge or lay about on crude furnishings while their breath steams in the cold. Rain drums on the strake shingles, but the sound of a horse galloping up and stopping outside is still audible. Most of the bundles begin to move into a more upright stance, and there is a sound of metal sliding across leather.
Steps and muffled voices sound from a room beyond the door, followed by a quick rapping.
One man rises and slightly opens the door while another stands behind it.

"They've been spotted at the Hausenstein ford," a voice says quietly from outside.
One man in the center of the room speaks clearly but with an Italian accent, "were they able to cross?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"They're continuing on in this storm?"
"It looks like they're trying to get here."

A moment of quiet excitement and rustling figures follows until the lord asks, "How many and how long?"
"Looks like about a half dozen outriders and two coaches, my Lord. Given the condition of the road, they could be over an hour out, but normally it'd be about half an hour to here now."

The nobles stands up and begins to divest himself of the rug in which he'd been wrapped. A Spanish accent from the corner cautions, "Quietly, Gentlemen. Quietly. And no smoking. Wait for the bell."