In a flash Philippe stopped the blow and took Robert to the ground, holding him there.

"I see you've quick reflexes. You've indeed had training," William said stepping forward, wearing a puzzled look. "I've seen you two somewhere before. Would you care to remind me where it was?"

Philippe's boot gently nudged Alan's, indicating he should say nothing.

Alan was more than happy to leave all the talking to Philippe.

"My brother and I took six horses to England. We accompanied the monk, Cecile. Later we looked after your stables at Quenilly. You might recall that we accompanied Engulf to the castle on the day that the messenger brought his bad news, sire."

William nodded. He recalled the monk, Cecil, telling him about these two exceptional young men who were not only literate, but could speak Latin, Greek, and English, too.

"They're the Domfront brother's, sire," Horace, the monk and duke's scribe, reminded William.

"Ah, yes, the Domfront brothers, I might have a task for you two. How well can you ride and control a horse?" William asked, turning his head a little.

"We ride well, sire. We had our own stables on our farm," Philippe half lied, hoping to impress, as well as hoping that the questions would go no deeper.

"I'm looking for officers -- ^men who can control and command respect from the troops under their direct influence. I recall that it was Master Sergeant Sprig, who first hired you. He told me he'd learned that you are educated. You will be under the command of your new master, Roger Fitzscrob here, who will give you your duties. You can consider yourselves promoted to the rank of sergeant." William then turned about and walked out to the lodge.

"I like you, Philippe," Roger said. "You've a good eye, but I'd have pulled my punch, lest I'd broken my knuckles in your hard chin. The duke likes you, too," he added. As Robert turned to leave the stables, he about-turned and stood looking at them thoughtfully. "Do a good job, and you'll go far in this company," he said, and then moved off to rejoin the duke outside.

"What the hell was all that about? We only had 'a' horse... and stables? We had 'a' stable, Philippe. Anyway, we've been chosen to have responsibility, and I hope that our education isn't going to come back to haunt us."

"It rather looks that way, Allan. I guess, in part, it's why we obtained employment as quickly as we did, and why we've had rather important jobs around here. The duke has just made us sergeants, and from his own lips, too. That'll really increase our income." Philippe grinned, then noticed over his brother's shoulder a large procession heading toward the lodge.

Bishop Odo, with a large retinue, appeared, approaching from over the hill, his baggage train, consisting of some twenty mules, was obviously overloaded.

Philippe looked on as William strolled across the courtyard to see him focusing his attention on the newly arriving party.

"I've made sirre that Odo remains near me at all times, Roger," William barked. "He's not to be trusted, and I'll not leave him on his own in Normandy. For that reason, I've left Roger of Beaumont, and Hugh, the Vicomte of Avranches, to assist Matilda in the Ducal Regent while I'm absent. For now, let's go get some food before we begin the meeting." The two men made their way inside to a repaired and cleaned lodge. "Ah, this looks much better, Roger."

Odo dismounted and made his way to the lodge entrance, with servants running hither and thither carrying the bishop's belongings.

"Ah, Odo, You're moving home again, I see. You're just in time to partake in a meal," William said, as he glanced at the boys carrying Odo's belongings.

Odo nodded his acknowledgement to Fitzscrob and looked at his half brother. "I'm well enough, brother, just tired, and hungry, too. It's a long way to travel from Bayeux, and my arse is sore for my trouble; I'll tell you."

The pages brought in a meal of duck, venison, and assorted vegetables, and the men began to eat. Odo sat at the table and began quaffing as if he he'd never been taught table manners.

The three men finished their meal and sat about idly chatting-discussing England's division after the conquest was complete.

"I quite like Scrobbesbyrig," Robert said smiling. "I paid a visit there once, with Roger-de -Montgomery. The scenery was beautiful, an hour's riding east, and you come to a large gorge that drops steeply to a fast flowing river. It has an odd looking mountain that from the side, looks like a man lying on his back. I found good salmon fishing, and there were deer everywhere. That was a few years back, mind you. I was the guest of Gruffyd, Earl Edwin's father. The town runs along side the boarder of Wales. The Welsh call the town Shrewsbury, and I think that you'd like it, William."

"You'll have the whole province, Robert. Call the place Fitzscrobia," William said laughing loudly. William glanced at Horace, the monk and scribe. He was always by William's side, quill pen in his hand, ready to receive instructions. Every word was to be written down, copied, witnessed, and stored for future use. It was his job, too, to see that the duke's orders were distributed, often verbatim.

William often wondered about Horace, who was a large man with a tonsure that was really shaved too big for his small head. The duke chucked, inwardly, as he gazed at Horace's grossly overweight torso and short stature, recalling how children would often tease and taunt him to distraction. They could be heard calling him 'Horace the horse meal monk,' for he could finish off the contents of a platter the size of a horse's nosebag.

Outwardly, William gazed at the man sternly, almost with contempt. Horace would correct the duke's speech, often in mid-sentence. William knew he was right, of course, but he couldn't help despising him for so doing. Despite this annoyance, he was a trustworthy and efficient servant. Had he not been so, he'd have been sent to a monastery a long time ago.

"Have we enough parchment to send messages to all my thegns and officers, Horace?"

"Yes, my lord, we've more than enough. I'm ready to take down your orders, as long as you don't speak too quickly, sire," Horace replied suffering from a summer cold, snuffling.

William was in relatively good humor this evening. "You know something, Horace. I love a good fight. I would, on this occasion, however, be satisfied with just walking into England and taking the crown that's rightfully mine, oh, and having Harold as my willing vassal. For now, I need you to do some letter work, and my thegns need to have their orders promptly."

William turned to Robert and took him to one side. "Scribes are so bloody slow at writing their words. It's so aggravating. They seem to take all sodding day to finish anything. A trained parrot would do the job quicker and speed around to everyone repeating my orders.

"I know, William, but there's no-one else you can trust to faithfully take your orders. The other scribes are about as honest as Satan. Treat him with more respect; that's my advice."

William resumed his seat and began dictating the orders for his men to assemble at Dives- sur-mer, and to bring a specified number of men and supplies. He was thoughtful, and began to speak softly, but with determination in his voice.

"Each thegn must bring his own personal sword and a spear, along with thirty bowmen of good quality, supplied with five hundred arrows each," William ordered. Some thegns were ordered to bring much more, including horses, many fiom the special breeding stables that William had maintained about the dukedom. "I'll see how many can be built on site, and if there are enough trees that can be felled from the local reserves, then we'll use them." William thought aloud.

Horace wrote furiously in his own Latin shorthand, trying to keep apace. "Is that all, sire?" he asked looking up, wondering if he might have offended his lord.

"Be quiet while I'm thinking! Now, write a letter to Robert-of-Mortain. I want one hundred and twenty horse-carrying vessels from him. Odo has brought his one hundred boats with him as I've already requested. That leaves William-of-Evreux. I think he should manage eighty horse-carrying ships. Now, then, Horace, you're to write a letter, instructing Roger-of-Beaumont, Hugh of Avranches, and Robert-of-Eu to each supply sixty ships. Roger is to send supplies as to when I need them. Giffard only has thirty boats, but they carry horses, so that's a bonus. Ah, yes, see to it that they know and are ready with their knights, too. There will be similar messages later; is that understood?"

"Yes, sire." Horace said.

"Right. That should be all for now. You'd better get them copied before nightfall, because I want each one delivered as the copy is finished. I'll take it that's understood." Horace nodded meekly and affirmed that he would take care of all that was requested.