and several of Ethel's oatcakes. 'Give Catrin my love and tell her that I wish she was here, but I'll speak to her when I return.
'From your ten days or from the North? 'The first I hope, he answered with a grimace and, saluting Ethel, strode off in the direction of the stables.
Somewhat to Oliver's surprise, the recruiting went smoothly and well. Randal de Mohun might have been obnoxious in camp, but on campaign, with responsibility, he was efficient and professional. He was also a good judge of the quality of fighting men and, by a mixture of emotive words and material promises, attracted an excellent number of recruits to join Earl Robert's banner. His ebullience and boldness, the expansiveness of gesture and dress, were well-contrasted with Oliver's more reserved approach. Men saw that there was room for more than one sort of soldier in Earl Robert's ranks. Those who did not take to Randal de Mohun could talk quietly to Oliver and make their decision at a more measured pace.
'We've done well, grinned de Mohun, as they sat over a camp-fire on the last evening before their return to Bristol. 'The Earl will pay us a bonus for this lot.
Oliver nodded agreement, his jaws busy with a chunk of gristly mutton from their supper stew.
'Lincoln, eh? De Mohun rubbed the side of his beard with his thumb. 'It's a rich city, so I've heard. Plenty of pickings, and its citizens deserve no more than what they get for supporting Stephen. His eyes gleamed with relish.
Oliver gave up and spat the meat into the fire where it sizzled and hissed. 'I know it is the nature of war, he said, 'but I do not enjoy burning people out of their homes and taking away their livelihoods.
The mercenary gave him a sharp, sidelong look. 'To the victor, the rewards, he said. 'I could not afford a sword or tunic like this out of my own pay. I risk my life. It is only right that I be recompensed.
Oliver shook his head. 'In the end there will be nothing left. If you bleed the river dry, the landscape turns to desert.
'Oh yes, I agree. De Mohun smiled. 'But a little running-off now and again does no harm. You are too tender, Pascal.
Oliver shrugged. 'The more I see, the more tender I become, he said grimly, and thought that it was perhaps the opposite for some men. He suspected that his companion actually enjoyed the acts of looting and rapine. They were probably the urges that had driven him to be a mercenary in the first place.
De Mohun snorted and shook his head. 'You're a strange one, he said. 'If you came to me as one of these raw recruits, I'd leave you behind and tell you to tend your sheep.
Oliver smiled without humour. 'And I'd be glad of it, he said, and used the excuse of checking on his horse to quit the fireside and company that chafed him.
Catrin was returning to the keep from the market place, her basket full of Ethel's favourite eels to tempt the old lady's waning appetite, when she heard the riders bearing down on her from behind. Spinning round, she clutched her basket to her bosom and stepped aside.
The leading horse was a powerful bay, its rider clad in chain mail, his bright cloak blowing in the brisk wind. For the briefest instant, Catrin had the terrifying sense of standing in the woods at Penfoss watching just such a troop gallop through their gates, except the leading horse had been a chestnut, the shield had borne a different blazon and weapons had been bared. The sensation was gone in a flash, but it still seemed like a true memory rather than a trick of the imagination and it made her shiver.
A grey destrier swung out of the line and headed straight towards her. Again Catrin's heart swooped and plummeted, but in response to a different blend of emotions. 'Oliver! she cried.
His grin dazzled beneath the nasal bar of his helm. During ten days in the field, his jaw had sprouted an embryo beard of startling Viking-red. Riding up to her, he leaned from the saddle and extended his palm. She took it, set her foot over his and, in a flash of scarlet silk hose, straddled the stallion's rump. Lodging one hand in his belt, she clutched the basket of eels with the other.
'Have we not met somewhere before? Oliver jested, his eyes flickering from her face to the basket, to her red hose, as if he could not decide where to look first.
'I am sure I would remember if we had, Catrin retorted, her eyes dancing.
'And do you?
'I could be persuaded.
He laughed and twisted in the saddle to embrace her, then made a hasty grab for the reins as the horse jinked sideways. Catrin uttered a small scream and, laughing, gripped his belt more tightly.
Randal de Mohun watched the play with a half-smile on his lips and contempt in his eyes. 'I did not realise your «protection» extended that far, Pascal. There was an edge to the jesting tone of his voice.
Returning to the ranks, Oliver gave de Mohun a cool look. 'As of Twelfth-Night, we have been betrothed, he said. 'Catrin is my wife in all but the final blessing.
After one glance at de Mohun, Catrin lowered her eyes. There was something about the mercenary that caused her flesh to crawl. It was more than just the incident when he had tried to kiss her as she tended his hand.
'Then I congratulate both of you. De Mohun inclined his head in a mocking salute. 'I'll drink to your happiness the moment I'm free of my duty.
If he hoped for an invitation to do that drinking with Oliver's coin, he was disappointed. Oliver fixed a polite expression on his face and held it there, refusing to be drawn.
Just to be irritating, de Mohun needled them with his presence for a while longer, but finally he gave up and rode off down the line to snarl at the recruits.
Catrin's scalp prickled. She did not know whether she preferred him in her sight or out of it.
'Yes, Oliver murmured as if reading her mind. 'He is a wolf. A very fine wolf who will sit at your fire and save your life from other wolves, and then, because it is his nature, he will snap your hand off in his jaws. 'I thought he was your friend.
'Only in the days when I thought it was daring to have a wolf at my fire and I had nothing to care about.
'Well, you do now, she replied, 'so have a care to yourself too. She was not just speaking of de Mohun, although he was cause enough for concern. Now that the first joy of greeting was over, she had time to remember that Oliver's return was fleeting; that very soon he would be on the road again, this time to full war.
Oliver laughed. 'You need have no fear on that score, he said vehemently.
While they were dismounting in the castle bailey, Gawin approached them. 'Has there been any news, Mistress?
She dusted down her skirts and glanced at him. 'News?
'About Rohese? He bit his lip.
Catrin shook her head and could not help but feel pity for him. 'No, I'm sorry, she said. 'There has been no word in the town.
He nodded his thanks and, downcast, turned away. Oliver watched him and sighed. 'I would not usually say this, but setting out on campaign will be the best thing for him — clear his mind, help him find his balance. It's the first time that he's had to face the reaping of what he has sown.
Catrin nodded sombrely. 'It was probably the first time for Rohese too.
Oliver sighed heavily. 'God have mercy on them both. Which was the nearest he would come to saying that he thought Rohese was dead. Gathering Catrin into his arms, he kissed her. 'I have to go and make my report to the Earl and I don't know when I'll be free, but save some eel stew and a seat by the fire.
'I can think of warmer places, Catrin said mischievously, 'but only if you shave that stubble.
He cupped his jaw. 'I promise, if you promise.
Laughing, she pushed herself out of his arms and went to tend to the dinner.
Ethel was waiting for her. 'He's back then, the old woman said, and eased her stool away from the fire so that Catrin had room to cook the eels she had just put down.
'How do you know?
Ethel chuckled. 'Your face gives you away. Besides, I saw the horses in the bailey.
'There are always horses in the bailey these days, Catrin said with a small shrug. Sitting on her heels, she
