or stood in groups talking. There were twenty hardwood tables with stone benches, and most were filled. Despite the presence of two doors, one at each end of the large room, the place was smoky andvery warm. Nearly all the knights wore leather and mail, and their squires wore leather. No one seemed comfortable.
At home, away from battle, Rowland and his neighbors, Gui and Roger and Thurston and Geoffrey, all favored the three-sided cape over under-shirting and leathers. Fastened on one shoulder, it allowed free access to the sword these men always wore, but was not nearly as cumbersome as mail or a leather overtunic. Rowland did sometimes prefer the tunic, however, as he had never quite gotten used to the cape. It seemed womanish, and the fact that Roger of Mezidon postured so in his made the garment even more suspect in Rowlandâs eyes.
Roger of Mezidon was there, with two of his vassals and their squires. Gui had traveled without his squire, and Rowlandâs squire had fallen under a Saracenâs scimitar and had not been replaced.
Rowland knew one of Rogerâs vassals, Sir Magnus, who was a ward of Rogerâs father. Sir Magnus, like Rowland, was twenty-four, and he had taken his training with Gui and Roger and Rowland.
Roger, at twenty-six, was the oldest of them, and from their first days together, he had been the leader. He had been a bitter youth, knowing that, as a second son, he would have to make his own way in the world. He envied Rowland because Rowland was assured of having Montville one day, bastard or not. That a bastard should inherit while Roger, a nobleâs son, would not, rankled deeply. Rowland and Roger competed against one another in all things, and Roger, being the older, usually won. He gloated every time. They fought and bickered throughout theiryouth, more than if they had been brothers, and the fighting did not stop with age.
Roger spied Rowland first and decided to ignore him. But Sir Magnus saw Gui and jumped up to greet them.
âBy God, Gui of Falaise, the runt!â Magnus called exuberantly. âIt has been years since I saw you. Did you not take old Luthor of Montville as your liege?â
âYes,â Gui answered stiffly.
He bristled at the nickname given him in his youth and never forgotten. The runt . He was short of stature, and he could not change that. It had made him the brunt of jokes as a youth and an easy target for men like Roger and Magnus, who threw their weight around. Rowland had taken pity on him and tried to protect him, fighting often in his stead. It had made a bond between Gui and Rowland, and Gui felt that he owed Rowland his loyalty because of it.
âAnd what brings Luthorâs vassal to Arles?â Roger asked.
âThere is troubleâ
Before Gui could get any more out, Rowland elbowed him in the ribs and broke in. âMy father has missed me,â Rowland said lightly, causing Magnus to choke on his ale. Everyone present knew the statement was ludicrous. Roger scowled at the answer, and Rowland anticipated a battle sooner than the one awaiting him in Normandy.
Rowland sat down on a stone bench across the table from Roger. A serving girl, the same one he and Roger had fought over, brought ale to the newcomers and then hovered nearby, aware of the tension her presence was causing and reveling in it. Shehad been fought over before, but never by two so brutal yet desirable men as these were.
Gui stood behind Rowland, wondering at Rogerâs black scowl. He was a handsome man with the distinctive blue-eyed, flaxen-haired looks of the Normans, but Rogerâs face was etched now with hard, angry lines. He seldom laughed except in derision, and his smile was always closer to a sneer. Rowland and Roger were much alike in stature, both brawny, well-fit young men of considerable height. But Rowlandâs countenance was not as hard as Rogerâs. Handsome by any standards, Rowland also retained a sense of humor and a hint