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beasts, the girl, a redhead not much older than me, leaning with her palms against the wall, her skirts rucked up around her waist, with her paramour thrusting and grunting from behind. The noise was deafening, crimson-faced men shouting jests at each other across the table; three women were screaming at each other, waving their fists; a drunken oaf was blowing a wailing stream of pain from a set of bagpipes. The redhead being serviced in the corner suddenly turned her head and looked directly at me as I hovered in the doorway. She had huge, gorgeous eyes the colour of spring grass and she held my gaze for a few heartbeats before smiling and raising a suggestive eyebrow. Her look was like a physical blow, those mesmerising, bright green eyes and her air of cynical detachment from the heaving beast behind her, inside her. I looked away quickly, but not before I felt a disturbing and distinctly pleasurable stirring in my virgin loins.
    I took a step back and averted my gaze and my eyes alighted on two men seated at a small table near the door talking quietly - an oasis of sober calm in the maelstrom of drunken tumult. It was the giant John with his back to me and Hugh, the clerk, deep in some private conversation. A man stumbled over to their table, body swaying like a young silver birch in a gale, with a full pot of ale in his fist. He leaned towards the centre of the table, pushing his face between John and Hugh and shouting something that I didn’t catch. The clerk just leaned back and John, without even rising from his seat, smashed his huge left fist across his body full into the face of the drunken man, hurling him across the room away from their table. The drunk sat down hard on the floor, and slid into oblivion. John didn’t even turn his head to see the results of his handiwork.
    I heard the giant say: ‘So what does your brother want with all this? Deep in his heart, I mean,’ and he flapped an enormous arm to indicate the howling mass of boozing outlaws. Hugh shrugged. ‘It’s quite simple. He wants what all men want: to be greater than his father.’ Then he saw me hovering nervously and rose from his chair: ‘Greetings, Alan,’ he said. ‘Join us.’ He found me a stool and ushered me to the table with John. I could barely look at the giant, for fear he would smash my skull, like the drunken intruder, for my effrontery, so when a serving girl brought me a pot of ale and a cut of roast venison - meat twice in one day! - I buried my face in my food and held my tongue.
    Hugh and John watched me eat for a while in silence and then, when I had nearly finished the plate, the clerk said: ‘So how do you like our little company?’ I looked at him, my mouth full of rich venison, bloody gravy running down my chin, and nodded, trying to indicate that I found the company agreeable.
    ‘He likes the food, at any rate,’ said John and laughed - a deep booming big-man’s laugh that seemed to shake the room. I nodded again, more vigorously, and took a great slurp of ale to wash down the meat.
    ‘Well, your table manners need a little polishing,’ said Hugh, ‘but you seem to know how to keep your mouth shut. It’s the most important lesson any man can learn - keep your mouth shut, and never tell on your friends. Has anyone told you your duties?’
    I just stared at him, wiping my chin, and stayed mute. He continued: ‘So, you are sworn to Robert, your master - and so he will arrange for your training and education. He will also clothe, arm and feed you. Till we sort out what to do with you, you’ll be his body servant; it’s your duty to protect him, serve him meals, run errands for him - and try not to annoy him too much. Keeping your mouth shut at all times is a pretty good rule,’ he added, but not unkindly.
    ‘You can start by taking him some supper,’ he went on. ‘There’s a tray on the sideboard there already prepared and he’s in the chamber yonder. Off you go.’ He jerked his thumb at the dark