It was time for the evening meal at Cedric the Saxon’s home. He sat on an elevataed chair at the upper end of a long, T-shaped table in a huge hall. There were fireplaces at either end of the hall and at one end, the table was lower, at which the domestics and interior persons fed.
Cedric, nearing sixty years of age, was of medium height, with broad shoulders and long arms and blue eyes in a frank, open face. Behind him and elsewhere in the hall several attendants stood in position, awaiting his command.
At this moment, Cedric was impatient because Rowena had only just returned from mass at a distant church, and he had no news of Gurth and Wamba.
“Why is Lady Rowena taking so long to come down? And where are those fools? I am certain they have been murdered by outlaws and my swine looted by bandits,” he said, more to himself than to anyone around him.
He was about to continue when he heard the blast of a horn.
“To the gate, quick!” the Saxon commanded. “Tell me who calls at this hour? It is bad news, I am sure”.
In a few minutes, a warder returned with the new, “It is the Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx and Brian de Bois-Guilbert with their retinue. They are on their way to a tournament to be held at Ashby.”.”-de-la Zouche and request your hospitality and lodging for the night.”
“Aymer and Guilbert!” exclaimed Cedric. “Both Normans,eh? Never mind, Rotherwood is hospitable to all alike. Show them their rooms and look after their horses and mules. Tell the cooks to add more to kthe meal, for the guests. I would meet them myself, but I am under oath not to go further than three steps for anyone who is not a Saxon”.