The clouds were all low and rimmed with black, and the views were of greyness in every direction. It was hard to remember a time when the sun had shone, he sighed as he mopped at the back of his neck with a square kerchief. He had been out to squat, his bowels playing merry blazes after too many days and nights with poor food and lodgings, and got a soaking in return. They had been here in Chepstow for a couple of nights now, and in that time they had heard several reports about the progress of the Queen. It was enough to make a man weep. All were going to her, none coming to support the King. ‘More wine?’ enquired Bernard, his squire, holding up the wineskin. ‘Why not?’ Sir Ralph said, lifting up his cup. They were seated about a fire in this little chamber. They had not stolen anything, but the owners were not around. As so often happened, the moment a force of men arrived, many householders fled. It was natural enough. No man wanted to wait in order that his daughter could be raped.
