‘De Warenne, have some pity. We must have downed a barrel last eve.’
Oliver hesitated, the boy’s northern accent was thick, and it took a moment for him to absorb the meaning. The girl Rosamund had been easier to understand. He shrugged. ‘Work needs to be done. No matter if you’d downed a dozen barrels. Get up, or the only thing you’ll ever guard is swine. You know your duties. Wake everyone. Get the trestles set up. Baron Geoffrey will soon be down.’
He gave the boys another nudge with his boot. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide his smile as the boys, still grumbling, moved reluctantly to obey him.
‘My poor head.’ John groaned.
The other lad, Matthew rubbed his face with grimy hands. ‘My eyes are full of grit. Only a peasant would wake so early. Go away. Let me be.’ The boy gave a start of surprise, as if he’d only just noticed Oliver standing over them. Wine-fuddled eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, it’s you. Can’t say I’m surprised. Get you gone, de Warenne. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re Fitz Neal’s cousin I’d...’ Matthew trailed off as Oliver’s set expression penetrated.
‘Aye?’ Oliver said, hooking his thumbs into his belt. ‘What would you do, Matthew? Pray enlighten us.’
Matthew lifted an eyebrow at John and seemed to take courage from the attention he was receiving. ‘Mind that you asked for this, de Warenne,’ he said, eyes bright with malice. ‘I’d call you by your real name, the one your mother got you. You’re a bastard in more ways than one. Only a misbegotten churl would kick us awake so soon after the May Day revels. A cold, unfeeling bastard who was probably sired in a barn and that by a pedl-’
A muscle flickered in Oliver’s jaw and his lips thinned. That was all, but the boy saw it.
Matthew’s eyes gleamed. ‘Ha, I’ve managed it, I said I would! John, you owe me a penny. Did you see the chink in his armour? He has feelings!’
‘Barely,’ John muttered.
John didn’t meet Oliver’s eyes as he climbed out of his cloak, he looked very ill-at-ease. It was plain he misliked Matthew’s goading, but hadn’t the will to stand up to him. It had certainly gone on long enough. Oliver was wondering how much more he’d have to endure, when John bent and dragged Matthew’s blanket from him.
‘Come on, Matthew, you heard the new squire,’ John said. ‘We’ve work to do.’
Oliver turned on his heel. He’d leave them to it and ignore the baiting as he’d done for the past couple of weeks. Matthew was a boy and this was only a game – he’d soon tire of it.
‘Tate?’ Oliver poked the boy nearest the fire. ‘You too. Up with you. You need to go to the kitchen to see what’s left after last night’s feast. I’ll accompany you.’
He was half-way to the door when behind him Matthew cleared his throat. ‘I saw you on the beach, de Warenne,’ he said.
Oliver checked mid-stride before continuing towards the kitchen. His reaction must have been almost imperceptible, but others in the hall were waking and several pairs of sharp Yorkshire eyes were on him. He gritted his teeth, he was determined not to be drawn.
Matthew’s mocking voice followed him. ‘Was she pretty, that wench?’
Rosamund. His stomach tightened.
Someone guffawed. ‘De Warenne met a maid? What maid would be foolish enough to meet him? Who was it?’
Doubtless revelling in the attention his announcement had won him, Matthew pressed on. ‘I never said she were a maid. No lass with what she had to offer could possibly still be a maiden. They were together for an age. I didn’t get too close, for I was on the cliff, but it was de Warenne right enough. He has the only grey destrier for miles.’ Matthew lowered his suggestively. ‘Was the girl good de Warenne? Does she have a liking for the kisses of a bastard? How much did you have to pay her?’
‘Enough!’ Baron Geoffrey Fitz Neal, Lord of Ingerthorpe Castle had entered. As he crossed the hall, his footsteps echoed on the wooden boards. Sir Geoffrey was a large man whose girth matched his height. His brown hair was thinning on the top, like a monk’s tonsure.
‘Good day, cousin,’ he said, genially. He clapped Oliver on the shoulder. ‘Are these pests annoying you?’
‘They’re easily brushed aside.’
Perceptive dark eyes took in Oliver’s set shoulders and tight mouth. ‘Are they, cousin?’ he murmured, softly. ‘I thought, for a moment, Matthew had scored a hit.’ His gaze settled on Matthew. ‘You! Scullion!’
‘My lord?’
‘You forget your station. Every man has his place, and you’d do well to remember yours. Leave it to the women to bitch, God knows there are enough of them here.’