'I can't complain, Dickie.' Owen returned the salute. 'I've got my health and I'm making a good living from the fairs.'
'Who are the boys?'
'The big lad is my son Gareth and the other is my sister's. I'm hoping to place them with Guy Gascoigne when he comes recruiting next.'
Richard pointed at the head that had just been knocked over. 'You said he was the Duke of Burgundy?'
'That's right, boyo.'
'He looks more like the Duke of Surrey to me.'
'There is a resemblance,' Owen agreed.
'And the bishop?'
'He's the Bishop of Reims.'
'I'd say he looks more like Cardinal Beaufort.'
'You mean the Henry Beaufort who is uncle to our young king and a prominent member of the Royal Council?' Owen surveyed the head. 'Yes. I must agree. There is a slight resemblance.'
'Here.' Richard produced a penny. 'I'll give you this for four shots.'
'No you won't, boyo.' Owen pushed his hand away. 'I'll not have you take that kerchief off me. It's the only one I've got.'
'I don't want your kerchief.' Richard surveyed the heads. 'I'll make a bargain. If I don't bring 'em all down, I'll pay for drinks in the Julian ... otherwise, you pay.'