Carlisle Castle, Ward of the North.

[René Artois]

Got any jobs going then? Er.. sir. Anything at all, we can do it.
Roger sounded eager, he would do any job going.

[Mors Vigilia]

Walter eyed the two carefully.

Both of you?

Without waiting for a reply, he called for the gate to open.

Come on in, I cannot stand this cold.

[René Artois]

Well I can work for the both of us, but yeah my sister would need somewhere to sleep and something to eat as well.
Roger claimed indignantly as he followed the man through the gates.
I can clean, labour, anything you need sir!

[Mors Vigilia]

Hmm, somewhere to sleep, this boy sounded like he wanted a permanent position...

You are from the city?

Passing through the baily, Walter continued on towards the keep with the slow methodical pace of the elderly.

[René Artois]

No. We have no home. But my mother was from the south, at least I think she was, it was near London she said. It's where we were born.

[Mors Vigilia]

Sensing that inquiring after the parents would lead to some discomfort, Walter remained quiet. He realised that he had already resigned himself to giving a home to these two... But what could they do? The Baron had been decrying a lack of fletchers in the city and unbeknownst to him his squire had already left to find a purpose in the Holy Land (wink). Carlisle hadn't seemed to grasp the noble-squire relationship and so Roger de Courtenay Esq had been reduced to little more than messenger boy. Walter hoped he found purpose in Jerusalem and returned to them a man.

[René Artois]

ooc: sorry this is a bit late, spent yesterday on many trains.
Roger looked around as they walked,
Need a page boy or a squire sir? I'm strong enough, and a quick learner too. My sister learns quickly as well, she could work in the kitchen, or clean?
He was getting slightly desperate, he was hungry and didn't want them to have to spend another night sleeping by the road.

[Mors Vigilia]

A common English child as squire to a Norman Lord? That'd be the day... Though it did not do for a Lord to be squireless, as it were and perhaps this boy would not have such delusions of grandeur as the previous one.

Get you both to the kitchens for now, see that you are fed and put to work wherever the head cook desires. I shall see that there is a room for the both of you...

They entered the keep, Walter pointing the way to the kitchens.

I shall think of what to do with you in the meantime...

[René Artois]

Yes sir.
Roger and his sister wandered off as he said.

[Mors Vigilia]

The cook quickly took Roger's sister under her wing, putting Roger to work on accepting deliveries of the food that arrived. Both benefited from the given luxuries of the kitchen, going to bed every night with a full stomach. The room was small and barely accommodated both of them but at least there were two beds, not exactly comfortable but good enough. Walter had checked on them every other day though he did not stay long.

After a week in the castle Roger heard of the Baron's return from the border, an event that caused the kitchen to double its workload. One morning, Roger was taking a well earned break when he felt the elderly steward's bony hand on his shoulder once more.

Come with me, boy.

[René Artois]

Roger was taken by surprise but followed the old man, comfortable in his now clean clothes. He had learnt enough in his life to know not to question though, so remained silent as he walked.

[Mors Vigilia]

Walter led the boy to a small reception hall where a man sat in a heavy oaken chair, dressed in plain but well made travel clothes. The man appeared somewhat villainous with his unkempt beard and piercing eyes, half sunken from tiredness. Roger was left by himself in the hall while Walter conversed with the man in French, telling him of his previous squire's departure for Jerusalem and of the replacement that had been found. After a period of silence, the man turned to Roger and spoke English in a thick French accent.

What is your name?

[René Artois]

My name is Roger, sire.

[Mors Vigilia]

Carlisle steepled his fingers.

Simply Roger? I Richard de Lacquartier, Baron of this place.

[René Artois]

Simply Roger sir.
He nodded.
I never knew my father, other than that he was a Norman, so I never got the chance to take up his name.

[Mors Vigilia]

Carlisle looked blankly at Roger for a while until he turned to Walter for a translation. Both men brightened at learning of the boy's paternity.

You do the reading and the writing, Roger?

[René Artois]

Roger looked a bit embarrassed but answered truthfully,
I can write my name sir.

[Mors Vigilia]

Carlisle let Walter reply for him.

The Baron looks for few things in a squire, the main one is that he can read and write messages... In French, of course... Would you learn?

[René Artois]

Roger nodded,
If I was taught, sir.

[Mors Vigilia]

Walter had now taken over the conversation, he knew what was required and if anything he'd probably have to resume his teaching of Carlisle, making the Baron learn how to properly treat a squire.

Alongside the usual training of a squire? You would have perhaps two to four hours sleep a night at most until you were fluent. That could be years, young man...