On the other side of him was a slightly thin man who looked similar to him. He was brushing the dust and dandruff on horses' hair. He combed it in small pieces in the direction of his hair.

The thin man said, "You are too fat. Your Sharma cannot run fast, and you cannot be a war horse. If you want me, you have to run fast. I have a relative who also went to England with William the Conqueror..."

"Aren't your relative my relative?"

"Don't interrupt,"

The thin man held a brush that brushed the horse's body in one hand and a metal horse brush in the other hand. He used the brush that brushed the horse's body to brush the teeth of the metal horse brush. Every time he brushed it a few times, he gently knocked the metal horse brush on the ground to let the dust shake out.

He was busy with his hands and kept saying: "His horse is a purebred horse. When he ran like a gust of wind, no one could catch up with him."

Someone in the stable opposite the thin man smiled and said, "He must have used it often to escape, haha."

This funny man is feeding the horse.

His horse lit his head and made a deep and short neighing, as if he was yelling to eat, but when the man approached it, the horse did not eat it. It turned its head sideways and approached the man, licking him with his tongue, and seemed to want to bite him.

So the man touched the horse's neck and played with his horse.

"Look at my 'Fayize', she is the best horse. Look at her, she is beautiful, medium-sized, well-proportioned, sharp and gentle. Is there any better horse than her?"

Roger looked in the sound and saw a long burqa bathing his horse in the sun on the clean flat ground in front of the stable.

Roger noticed that he actually used not cloth but natural sponges for nobles to take baths.

The knight put the sponge into the bucket and dipped it in water to wipe the horse's body. He said contentedly while wiping the horse's back.

Someone next to him mocked, "You are talking about your wife, hahaha."

The knight was not annoyed. He rubbed the horse's belly and said happily: "My horse has speed, endurance, smart and gentleness. Where is my wife better than my horse?"

"If you want me to say, you still have to be resistant to running. Run for a hundred or eighty miles without breathing. Look at my Persian horse. Oh, why are you knotting it?"

A bearded man in the stable was combing the horse's mane and forehead with a mane brush. He started from the horse's ears and combed the mane to the side. As he combed it, he seemed to be combing to a particularly difficult place to tie a knot.

"Those who don't breathe are dead horses." Someone joked.

The bearded man didn't have time to pay attention. He was trying to comb his hair bit by bit from the root of his hair.

"My 'laws' can also run far away. She can run long distances without eating or drinking, but I can't bear to leave."

The knight on the ground began to clean the horse's head. He carefully did not get the water into the horse's eyes. His horse was obedient and motionless at his mercy.

"What's the use of just being able to run far away? It's not a pack horse from a merchant. If I ask me, the key is to be able to fight, such as my big horse."

There was a separate compartment in the corner of the stable, and a man with red hair and beard was feeding the horse water. His horse was tall and burly, with dark hair all over his body without a single hair.

He said, "I went to Hannover to buy it and I spent 10 pounds of silver. Look, my chest is wide and thick, my back is wide and flat, and my four legs are so strong that it is more than one circle bigger than your horse."

"You fool was killed. A war horse is worth only 6 cows and up to 3 pounds of silver." Someone interrupted.

"Am I an ordinary war horse? You open your eyes and take a closer look. How big your nostrils are, how wide your nose is, how bright your eyes are, how brighter it is, how good it is, it is worth the price!"

The red-bearded man said excitedly, his voice a little louder, but his horse became unhappy and kicked the bucket away with one kick.

The person who saw him suggested, "Your horse is too violent and unobedient, so you're castrated."

The horse seemed to be human and could not hear the word "castrated". He was neighing and jumping in the compartment, panting, and sniffing from time to time.

"Wow, uh" The red-bearded man was busy comforting his horse, and did not forget to reply: "Go to castrate your horse, I like its bad temper, uh, uh~"

The maid was a little afraid of the horse, so she hugged Roger away and walked to the other end of the stable.

Roger saw two people here directing the servants to the saddle and put on the bridle.

"Look at how I bought the horses I went to Iberia. The face and four hooves are white, the fur is shiny and delicate, not stronger than your brown one." said a man proudly.

Another said unhappily: "That's a big deal, you are not a solid white horse, and your horse is a mare, why don't you ride a male horse?"

"The mare is so gentle and meditative. Let her go wherever she runs."

"Can she jump a 4-meter-wide ditch?"

"Why can't you?"

"Go out for a walk."

"Just try it, who is afraid of whom?"

When the maid saw them riding on a horse, she was afraid of hitting Roger, so she turned around and left and walked to the open space in front of the stable.

Roger noticed that the horse-washing knight was already washing the horse's tail. He placed the bucket on a table so that the horse's tail could naturally immerse the water of the bucket.

"Hey, be gentle." A shout from the side caused Roger to turn his head.

He saw a man sitting on a small stool, holding a horse's legs, holding a sharp knife, and using it to flatten the horse's feet.

The other person standing next to him was probably the owner of the horse, and the shout came from him.

At this time, the horse-washing knight spoke: "I said don't whine, I'll startle the horse and be careful to be kicked."

After the knight completely wet the ponytail, he gently wiped it with a sponge and rinsed it clean.

"Don't worry, my lord, I'm steady and won't hurt the horse. If the horseshoe is not flattened, nailing the horseshoe will hurt the horse."

The sitting man said, and then he stabbed again, and the horse stood obediently, motionless.

After washing the horse's tail, the knight took a dry towel and carefully wiped the horse's body, drying everything from beginning to end.

Roger looked at his horse carefully. The horse was maroon-colored, with a short head and a long neck, a high and plump armor, a short and powerful back and waist, a developed tendon of the limbs, a smooth and hairless whole body, a high tail foundation, and a high tail.

The knight looked at his horse basking in the sun with a fascinating look and exclaimed: "How beautiful is my 'Fayize'!"

The maid took Roger away from the stables, and Roger was very satisfied with today's inspection.

But on the way back to the stone house, he discovered a new situation.

There was a group of people in the middle of the yard, which was an irresistible temptation for Roger, who liked the fun.

So he patted the maid with his little hands and asked her to squeeze in and take a look.

The maid looked a little tired, and Roger gained a lot of weight quickly, and today I went for a longer time than usual.

The knights in front of them were all big and thick, all of whom were the ones whom this maid dared not disobey on the ground, but under Roger's persistent eyes, the maid had to step forward.

The knights who were in the way noticed Roger. These arrogant guys always hug each other in a group. Whether drinking or fighting, they always disdained the people outside their circle and rarely looked good.

But they all opened their mouths when they saw Roger and smiled, "Hey, Roger, the alcoholic."

They squeezed to both sides and gave way and accepted Roger's joining.

Roger was not grateful for this, and he stuck his tongue out at them in response.

The maid holding Roger was sweating on her head, and I don’t know if she was tired or afraid.

The maid walked into the crowd and Roger noticed his father, sitting on a Roman square stool with a knife, showing his noble character.

But in Roger's opinion, with the group of muscular men around him, he was simply the leader of the bandit in the village, with the momentum of a mountain eagle.

When the old Roger saw the little Roger, he waved his handmaid to come over. He took Roger and put it on his lap.

Roger then saw three strangers in front of him.

On the right hand was a thin old man with no hair on his head and no chin. He was wearing a brown barley robe with no drifting wool, a wooden cross hanging in his head and neck, and a wooden stick in his hand, and a smell of sheep on his body. But in Roger's eyes, he did not look like an ordinary shepherd, because he had no fear in his eyes, but instead he was a kind of equal calm for everyone.

In the middle is a Saracen merchant wearing a typical Arab robe.

On the left is a woman, dressed in a gorgeous manner and dressed up carefully. The strands of white hair on her head show that she is old, but her beauty in her youth can still be seen between her eyebrows and eyes.

"Master Earl."

The person speaking on the right is Mayor of Messina, who Roger knew. Roger didn't pay attention to him just now and thought he was also a member of the onlookers.

Mayo introduced: "The representatives of these three citizens hope to get your ruling."

"Let them say it themselves." The Count's tone was majestic.

"Dear Count Roger, I am the shepherd of God, Philip, the deputy director of the Messina Monastery, I came on behalf of the monastery, villages and markets. Your soldiers stole the sheep of the monastery, robbed the villagers' food, and gave no money to eat in the market." said the old man without hair and beardless.

The Count turned to Mayor and said, "Have you found all the people who committed the crime?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do they say?"

"The soldier who stole the sheep said he was just hunting, and he didn't know that this was a sheep with a master. The person who robbed the food said he had given the money..."

The count interrupted, "Did you give me money?"

"Seldom given," Mayor replied.

The Count signaled him to continue.

"The soldier who didn't pay for meals at the market said that the stall owner cooked too badly, so he didn't pay for it."

The count asked, "Have they eaten up?"

Mayo replied: "No."

So the Count turned to face the old man and said, "I, Roger Otville, in the name of the Earl of Sicily, convicted the soldiers who steal sheep and robbed grain and were whipped. As for the stall owner in the market, he told him to get out. My territory does not need a chef who can't cook but can only falsely accused."

The old man bowed and left.

The Count looked at the merchant Saracen, who saluted.
To be continued...