Page 4 of Silent Knight: Alexander

Chapter 3

With a dreary gray sky overhead, Alex rode his steed over the snow-laden ground as he approached Framlingham Castle. He wasn’t at all sure why he was here. Sitting atop an old nag he’d found out in a field, he had everything he owned in travel bags tied to the horse. He’d never stolen anything in his life but needed a steed to get here. With his bad leg, there was no way he could walk this distance.

He’d buried his father two days ago, using a pickaxe to break the frozen ground and only managing to dig a shallow grave. All the while, thoughts filled his head of the last words the man told him. Alex considered Crandell his father and always would even if it proved not to be true. He already missed the man dearly and felt isolated and alone.

Alex pulled the hood of his cloak lower, trying to block out the cold. He felt chilled to the bone from the journey and welcomed the thought of sitting by a warm fire. Stopping just before the drawbridge, he took in his surroundings. Framlingham Castle was enormous in size and outlandishly impressive. Long, colorful banners of the lord’s crest fluttered in the breeze from the battlements. The castle had four round turrets, a massive keep, and high walls around the inner bailey. There was even a gatehouse with a long ramp over a moat that led to the drawbridge.

His heart raced thinking that there was a woman inside who might be his mother. He’d never had a mother of any kind growing up and thought he hadn’t missed it. That is, not until now. With Crandell’s demise creating a void in his life, he needed someone to fill it.

It had always been just Crandell and him and no one else. Without the man at his side, Alex felt empty and lost. He looked down to his twisted leg, wondering what Lady Summer would think of him. Would she reject him, not wanting a lame son? Or would she pity him and treat him like a child? He wanted neither. Actually, he wasn’t even sure he would tell her the story he’d heard from Crandell. After all, if it weren’t true, he would feel like a fool. Aye, he decided, he would just keep silent about it until he found out more.

If he really were Lady Summer’s son, would she even want him after all this time? Perhaps her husband would send him away. No man wanted a son who was naught but a crippled mercenary, no matter how well he fought.

Alex’s stomach clenched in a hard knot. He suddenly felt as if he didn’t want to go inside at all. He’d made a promise to Crandell, but did it even matter anymore? The man was dead now. If Alex, indeed, was Peter, everyone thought he was dead, too. Mayhap, it was better left this way.

Looking down to the gold signet ring on his finger, he caressed it with his thumb, hoping it would give him strength. He had wanted a remembrance of Crandell, so he didn’t bury the ring with the man. Besides, Alex had very little to live on and might end up having to sell it just so he could eat.

He was turning around when, out of nowhere, a horse approached behind him at high speed. The rider caused his horse to rear up. Alex was taken by surprise and thrown to the ground.

“Get outta my way,” growled the man. “Keep this road clear for the knights and other nobles. You commoners have gotten much too bold. Now go back to your hovel where you belong.”

Alex looked up to see an angry man about his age with oaken hair, staring down at him. He was dressed like a knight but certainly didn’t act like one. Dark stubble covered his face, and his clothes were dirty. There was a crest on his tunic, but Alex couldn’t make it out from his position, prone on the ground.

“Here come the ladies. Now, get out of the way.”

Alex pushed up to his knees but wasn’t moving fast enough for the man. The knight slid off his horse and trudged through the ankle-deep snow, stopping right in front of him. “Did you hear me? Get up, you sorry excuse for a man.”

Alex struggled to stand in the snow, not being able to hide the fact he was lame.

“Oh, you’re a cripple,” said the man, kicking snow in his face. Alex’s fury grew. He wished right now that he had two good legs so he could kick the man in the teeth for treating him this way.

“What’s this?” asked the man, reaching out to take the swords tied to Alex’s horse. Alex had his father’s sword tied to the horse and also the one his father had bought him on his eighth birthday. He’d been raised with a blade in his hand and could use it just as good as anyone. “I like this,” said the man, pulling Alex’s sword from the sheath. The horse whinnied and stomped its foot.

“Put it back,” said Alex, getting to his feet, not wanting to lose one of the last things he owned.

The man chuckled. “And what the hell are you going to do about it?” Then he called out for his squire as he raised the sword in the air. His squire rode up to join them. “Get the other sword and let’s get to the castle. I want to be one of the first ones there so I can eye up the wenches. After all, if they’re rich enough, I might want to marry one of them.”

“Aye, Sir Dreyfis,” said the boy. But before the boy could get to Alex’s horse, Alex reached out and drew his father’s sword.

“Drop the sword,” Alex commanded, holding it pointed at the man called Sir Dreyfis.

Dreyfis looked up and started laughing. “Squire, look at that,” he said. “The lame one is foolishly threatening me.” The squire started laughing as well.

“Don’t make me fight you, because I will,” Alex warned him, probably sounding too docile since he very rarely raised his voice.

“You dare threaten a knight?” asked the man. “That is punishable by death, coming from a commoner.”

Dressed in a tunic and breeches and wearing a traveling cape, Alex looked like a commoner. He didn’t own chain mail, or spurs or armor like a knight would have. That was reserved for the nobles and quite expensive.

“Where does a man like you get swords like this?” Dreyfis inspected Alex’s sword.

“It’s none of your business,” said Alex.

“On the contrary, it is. I want to know all I can before I kill you and take from you that which you have probably stolen from a noble to begin with.”

“I don’t steal,” said Alex. His eyes roamed over to the horse, realizing it was a lie. He felt pretty low right now even if the only thing in his life he’d stolen was a broken-down nag. He planned on taking the horse back once he made his visit, so it didn’t really matter, he told himself.

“Let’s see if you can even hold that thing.” The man swung the sword at him. Alex instinctively raised his blade, clashing with that of his attacker’s. He had sparred constantly with his father ever since childhood. Crandell had taught him everything the late baron had taught him when he worked as a guard at the castle. Alex’s skill in handling a weapon was the one thing that he prided himself on. He was just as good as any knight when he had a blade in his hand. That is, as long as he could stay on his feet.