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in the kingdom, stood slightly apart from the others, listening to their conversation with an ill-disguised temper. He was shorter than most of the other men there, but had hugely broad shoulders and a look of immense physical power. How men must quail at the thought of facing him across a battlefield! The earl’s gaze turned from the nobles to sweep the rest of the tent, and Edwin looked away hastily lest he be caught staring. He looked instead at the lord Sir Hugh had named as the regent’s nephew. He had never heard the name John Marshal before, but he recognised the man as being the one who had come out to meet their party earlier when they had arrived; the one who had finally let them join the encampment. He was neither the oldest nor the youngest of the men around the table, being perhaps of an age with Edwin’s own lord, maybe a bit younger, his dark hair just starting to be flecked with grey. Now that he wasn’t wearing his mail, Edwin could see how slight he was, not tall, and easily the lithest of the men around the regent. He was listening to the conversation around the table with interest, his eyes darting back and forth from one lord to the next, his movements quick and restless as he was seemingly unable to keep still. He kept looking as though he wanted to interrupt, but he didn’t speak.
    Sir Hugh murmured again, encouraging Edwin to watch and to listen to what was happening, and then he fell silent as they turned their attention to the talk of the men around the regent.
    The first thing which struck Edwin was the noticeable distrust and lack of warmth with which most of the other nobles were regarding his lord. He stood at the outermost edge of the group around the table, even though he was one of the highest ranking there; others turned their shoulders to avoid him, and some looked at him with open suspicion. One of these was the Earl of Chester, who took no trouble to conceal his dislike. Edwin was worried. He whispered to Sir Hugh, to see if his opinion of the situation was shared; the knight nodded sombrely.
    Edwin began to listen more carefully to the talk of the nobles. They were looking at a map, and the discussion seemed to centre on the route they would take to Lincoln. Edwin had no idea at all of the relative situation of the towns they mentioned, or how far away they were, but the consensus seemed to be that they should avoid taking the direct road to Lincoln, which would bring them to the side of the town on which the French were encamped. Well, that sounded fairly sensible, even to him. Instead they were to travel via a different route, which would mean camping overnight at somewhere called Torksey, and then moving on to Lincoln to approach from the west, the side where the castle was situated. There might then be some possibility of communicating with the besieged men in the castle. Men? Edwin’s ears caught a new name, and he was amazed to discover that the stronghold was apparently being held by a woman, Dame Nicola of something.
    While he was considering this startling piece of information, the conversation turned to the number of men that each lord had brought with him. Each was giving the regent a figure of knights and crossbowmen; nobody seemed particularly interested in foot sergeants or servants, but surely they’d be important as well, wouldn’t they? Edwin didn’t dare open his mouth to say anything out loud, so instead he watched as a harried-looking clerk wrote all the numbers down.
    The numbers kept coming. Edwin had no idea whether all of this constituted a large host or not or whether there would be enough of them to raise the siege, but he listened with interest. The great men, the earls, each had many knights in their retinues; some of the lesser lords had fewer knights but more crossbowmen. Once the final lord had given his figures – William d’Aubigny supplying ten knights and thirty crossbowmen – Edwin turned without thinking to Sir Hugh and whispered, ‘Four