They were grinning, but dutifully handed over half of what they made. It ended up in a big pile in front of Caius, who was pleased at the results. He pulled out his coin purse in a clumsy gesture, stuffing it full of the silver coins he’d been given. But hewas starting to see double, which was never a good sign, so he tucked his coin purse away and grabbed Bric by the arm.
“Food,” he said. “Bring me food and boiled fruit juice so I can walk from this place at some point tonight.”
Bric was still grinning as he motioned to Morgan and Gareth, who charged off towards the rear of the crowded place in search of a meal for Caius. Then, Bric, Dashiell, Peter, and Kevin sat down at the table, stealing a chair from a nearby table by pushing a man off of it. The man plummeted to the dirt floor, leaping to his feet as if ready for a fight, but the sight of Dashiell and Kevin posturing threateningly dampened his sense of revenge. Triumphant over the stolen chair, Kevin sat down upon it.
“Alice, my sweet, what joys you teach,
With some wine and a good deal of piffle.
My love for you grew,
Until the time that I knew
That Alice had a phallus, ’tis true!”
It was Caius at the end of the table, drunkenly singing a song in his surprisingly glorious baritone. It was a song only suitable for taverns and when he sang it a second time, they all joined in. Kevin’s off-key rendition made Bric clap his hand over the man’s mouth midway through. They’d barely finished the second round when another group of knights neared their table, calling out to Caius as the man sat there and tried to stay upright.
“A wager!” a knight in the gold and green colors of the House of de Rydal called out. As his friends tried to stop him, he brushed them off. “I’ll wager my drunken friend can walk a straight line better than you can, Giant.”
Caius heaved a heavy sigh as he looked over at the knight. He was laughing, indicating a half-unconscious knight he wassupporting. Before he could brush them off, Bric was on his feet, kicking the raucous pair away.
“Get out of here, you filthy rats,” he said, shoving at them and slapping one man in the head. “You are no match for The Britannia Viper, so be gone with you.”
Those within ear shot were laughing, including those at the table with Caius. The challenge had been in good fun and in a place like this, everything was up for a wager. Earlier in the evening, they’d seen men bet on who would vomit first from all of the ale they’d been drinking. Then it was a bet on howfarthe vomit would go. That’s what made a place like this so much fun and, in truth, so very dangerous. William Marshal didn’t like his men to visit the place.
There were no rules at The Pox.
Bric turned back to the table, grinning.
“Idiots,” he muttered.
Peter de Lohr looked at him, exasperated. “Why did you chase them off?” he demanded. “It would have been certain money!”
As Bric snorted at him, Caius held up a hand. “Mayhap not,” he said. “I am not entirely sure I can stand right now, much less walk a straight line, so mayhap it is best we do not tempt fate. Let us eat our meal and be done with this place. I have a strong urge to find my bed and stay there.”
Peter grinned at a man he’d not known a long time, but someone he had come to admire a great deal. He knew that Caius had served Richard the Lionheart in The Levant, part of the close circle of the king’s trusted men that included Peter’s father, Christopher de Lohr. Caius was jovial and witty at times, and great fun to be around, but that was deceiving. He was also one of the most brilliant, deadly tacticians around, and in battle he was unmatched. His reputation was so well-known that the Saracen commanders called himBritania Faybr–
The Britannia Viper.
He was big, fast, and deadly.
“If you are bedding down at The Marshal’s townhome, then you must tell him you got drunk somewhere other than The Pox,” Peter said. “And you must not, under any circumstances, tell him that I was with you. He will tell my father and the man will ride all the way from the Welsh Marches to take a stick to me. You remember what happened last year when he found out I had come here. With my sister, no less.”
Caius grunted with humor. In fact, they all did. “You mean Lady de Sherrington?” Caius said, referring to Peter’s younger sister, Christin, who had enjoyed a stellar career as part of William Marshal’s spy ring until she married one of the best agents The Marshal had in Alexander de Sherrington. “I hear your father has made her remain at Lioncross Abbey Castle and refuses to let her out.”
Peter smirked. “I believe it has more to do with the fact that she has just had a child and not because he is trying to cage her,” he said. “Sherry agrees with him, though he has remained with my father in command of his army since the passing of my father’s captain, Jeffrey Kessler. In any case, when my father found out I permitted Christin to come to The Pox, he yelled at me for two days.”
Caius snorted. “You survived.”
“Barely. Being scolded by my father is not pleasant, Cai.”
Caius wagged a finger at him. “You forget that I served with your father in The Levant,” he said. “Christopher de Lohr is terrifying in any shape or form. And why are you not in command of your father’s army? Why Sherry? Aren’t you his heir?”
Peter shook his head. “Nay, I’m not.”
“But you are his eldest son.”
Peter nodded. “I am, but I’m his bastard,” he said quietly. When Caius gave him a blank expression, he smiled wryly. “Did you not know that?”
