The innkeeper and his sons - Caedred and Cynwulf - keep our flagons full of ale. We are numerous - lord, ladies, serfs, merchants, friars - all to make complaint against the Crown. Many of those gathered I recognise: Gilbert of Bradeston, Hugh Fletcher, Isabel Grosvenor, Aelfwine Scylding, Abbot Cuthwine of St Martin's, and many others. Every lord is dressed in his finest raiment, bold heraldic colours emblazoned upon shield and tunic. The common folk appear just as regal - healthy, stocky Welshmen and Saxons, wrapped in the livery of forester, farmer, and soldier. There hands rest easily upon their sword hilts and about the hafts of their axes, ready to issue justice.