The great hall of Rouen Keep was alive with torchlight and quiet conspiracies.
Shadows leapt from the carved beams overhead, dancing like hungry spirits on the rough walls of the old Norman seat.
Robert sat at the long table, a cluster of loyal barons and mailed captains gathered close.
Beyond the hall doors, the weight of his brother's siege lay on every breath. Yet inside, the mood was not one of dread; but of a patient, simmering satisfaction.
On the table before them was a detailed spread of vellum and scraped calfskin, inked with the roads and rivers of Normandy.
Small stones, marked with paint, showed the known encampments of Richard's forces.
Another cluster of counters, shaped like wolf-heads, circled around them: Robert's outriders and skirmishers, tightening the noose.
Sir Gautier de Bellême leaned in, tapping a gauntlet finger on one of the northern supply lines.
