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the scrutiny.
    As he walked, Waltheof noticed two merchants urging a string of horses towards the ducal residence and cast an appreciative eye over the animals. No common nags these, but livestock bearing the hot stamp of Spanish blood in their sharp ears, arched necks and elegant, compact build. They had lost their plush winter fells and their coats shone with the polished gloss of spring, bright bay, blue roan, grey and a dun the colour of sunlit sand.
    Waltheof followed the traders into the courtyard and watched an official direct them to the stable compound.
    'They're for Duke William. My father says so,' Simon de Senlis greeted him, a pile of tack draped over his shoulder. The star designs of worked silver on the buckles and browband of the bridle looked familiar to Waltheof, but he could not recall where he had seen them before.
    'I suppose he lost many good mounts at the great battle,' he said.
    The boy gave a dismissive shrug. 'Those horses arc for riding, not war. Lady Judith is to have her pick because her mare is lame.'
    Waltheof glanced down and met the lad's ingenuous tawny-gaze. 'And just when is she to do the choosing?'
    'Now.' Simon hefted the tack, which had begun to slip. As the sun dazzled on the silver mountings Waltheof remembered that he had seen them on Judith's black mare on the day of the rescue. Falling into step beside the boy, he was very glad that he had not lingered at the tavern to rouse his companions from their wine stupor. He was also suddenly conscious of his dishevelled appearance. While he was not well acquainted with Judith, he knew how much store she set by presentation.
    He raked his hands through his hair, beat at his tunic and straightened his somewhat skewed leg bindings.
    Simon eyed Waltheof's hasty attempts at sprucing. 'You don't look as if you've been out in the town all night,' he said kindly.
    Waltheof tried to frown but couldn't. His lips twitched. 'And how would you know where I've been?'
    'I overheard you discussing it at supper last night. I don't speak English above a few words, but I heard one of you mention Madame Hortense's.'
    Waltheof cleared his throat. 'I see,' he said.
    'My brother goes there sometimes,' Simon said with a knowing look. 'It's a brothel.'
    Waltheof did not know whether to laugh or admonish. 'At your age I did not realise such places existed,' he said somewhat grimly, wishing in part that he still had his innocence. 'But then I suppose I did not have an older brother to corrupt me… well I did, but he died.'
    'I am sorry.' It was the automatic and polite response, but there was curiosity in the lad's gaze. It was probably that insatiable desire for information that had led young Simon de Senlis to find out about brothels amongst the more worthy subjects for study.
    Waltheof shook his head. I never knew him. He was the son of my father's first wife and almost a man before I was born. He should have worn the bearskin cloak of the house of Siward. My father entrusted my own education to the monks of Crowland Abbey.' He almost smiled. 'So you see I have come rather later than you to the knowledge of brothels.'
    'I don't know
everything
about them,' Simon said seriously.
    'You don't want to,' Waltheof answered with an amused grunt. 'Keep your feet on the narrow path of righteousness. That way you'll have nothing to regret.'
    'Do you regret going then?'
    It was with relief that Waltheof saw the stables looming and the tethered selection of palfreys. 'Not at the time,' he said, "out it is like drinking - the night's carousing has to be paid for by the morning's malaise.' He swatted good-naturedly at the lad. 'Now, stop bedevilling me. You don't need to know the answer to such questions until you're older — much older.'
    He watched Simon disappear with the bridle into the stable's dark interior and, shaking his head, went to look at the palfreys that the coper had brought for Judith's inspection.
    'I fancy the grey myself,' said an amused voice behind