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The lads followed closely in Larswic's wake as he made his way confidently through the milling crowds. Men made way for him and drew wives and daughters close as this man with the broad frame strode purposefully onwards. Nothing would get in his way. The lads hardly dared cast a glance at the brightly coloured stalls and amusements they passed; the crowds would have quickly closed back around them if they had not kept up with Larswic.
He had the sound of the bookmakers in his ears, the smell of excited horses ready for racing was on the air and his mind was filled with schemes and plans. Larswic went straight to the enclosure where the horses and riders sat warming up for the races. "Wait there," he said to the lads, ducking under a fence. "And do not move. Or else." He quickly disappeared in the throng of nervous horses, riders and men.
Larswic joined a group of people who listened as a list of horses and riders was read out over and over. This was the list of races and who would be competing. Some lingered, bookmakers who were making notes of who was taking part and mentally calculating odds as they tried to remember all the names. Smaller men and youths strained to hear the names of those they would be competing against and nervously looked at the ground as they attempted to decide on strategies for winning. Others, like Larswic, only lingered to hear the one or two names they were interested in and then made off again into the crowd.
He moved more cautiously now, as he moved deep into the area where the horses waited, and not just for fear of receiving a kick from one of the highly strung animals. He was looking for a horse he knew very well, one he had bred himself and had sold a year since. Then he spotted the pure black young stallion, stamping his hooves and shaking his tail in irritation as he was made to wait in the enclosure. This horse was the finest race horse Larswic had ever known, let alone bred himself. The price he had raised from selling him on had been enough to build his family a new home from scratch and buy a dozen more horses of good bloodstock. What was more, he retained a stake in anything the horse won. But this horse was so good, the odds were already shortened on him at every race he turned up at. Larswic had a plan and looked for the owner who was not far away, and the two men greeted each other with handshakes and hearty back slaps.
***
The lads had waited by the fence as Larswic had told them to. They had not forgotten their spat and though they were now distracted by all the excitement around them and were chatting excitedly about the races and the horses and the people that passed by, they did not look one another in the eye. Larswic knew as soon as he saw them that some kind of disagreement had passed between them. That he had not found them tussling on the floor or tormenting someone was enough to tell him something was up. Thinking quickly, he went into his pocket and pulled out a few small silver coins.
"These are for you two," he said, with a smile, looking at each lad from under his stern brows all the same. "I think you've earned a little pocket money, and not just for the work, but for keeping a keen eye on the local riders." He looked at Leocsley as he said this, as he was genuinely pleased that the lad had spotted that young ostler riding out. But he gave Wultheof a few more coins all the same. He would always favour his son.
"Spend them how you will, but I'm going to see a man about a horse!" he laughed, and nodded towards an area where men stood raised above the crowd on crates, waving white gloved hands madly about in the air.
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