Page 27 of King’s Knight

Alex bowed before Merewyn. “You are a vision.”

Her blue-hazel eyes sparkled with mirth. “You mean because you recognize me now that I am free of all the dust?”

He chuckled. “Well, the same could be said of me. Nay, I only meant to admire your beauty.”

“ ’Tis the second time today you have complimented me in such manner. You must want something,” she teased.

“Aye,” he said. Gazing intently into her eyes, he decided to speak the truth he was just coming to realize. “I want… everything.”

She inhaled sharply, her cheeks blushing scarlet. Holding out his arm, he whispered, “Do not worry, I will tell no one of my ambition toward you.” Indeed, how could he speak to others of something he was only beginning to understand himself?

“ ’Twould be best if you said nothing to me of it, either,” she said shortly, placing her hand on his offered arm. “It would not be proper for Talisand’s heir to dally with a commoner.” The bolt of lightning that surged through him at her touch was mirrored in her eyes. He was pleased to see the attraction was shared.

He led her toward the others. “It matters not to me you are not of noble birth.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Surely it would matter to the king and your noble father.”

He could not argue with her, not after Sir Geoffroi’s warning of the king’s likely intent. Their conversation ceased when he delivered her to the ladies.

During the evening meal that followed, he suffered through Earl Hugh’s recounting stories from Alex’s days at Chester as a foster son, minus the whippings, of course. Rory and Guy took full advantage, teasing him unmercifully for the tales of his once stumbling with his sword.

“For that,” Alex informed them, “I shall have to trounce you at chess, a game Earl Hugh taught me and his sons well.”

“He is a fierce player of the game,” the rotund Earl Hugh said in warning to Alex’s companions. “Look not for mercy.”

Alex thought it an interesting comment from one who showed little mercy himself.

“Aye, we know,” said Rory. “Our time in Normandy afforded us many nights where dice and chess were our only amusements.”

“To us,” put in Guy, “it was merely a way of passing time. To Alex, it was a battle to the death with carved horses, knights and kings.”

“So be it,” said Earl Hugh. “Tonight we shall have games of chess.” Then looking at Alex’s father, standing next to Sir Geoffroi, he added, “I welcome the opportunity to defeat my old friends.”

“You will not find us so easily vanquished,” said Alex’s father. “Geoff, in particular, has recently shown great skill in the game.”

* * *

Merewyn had been listening with great interest to the men’s discussion of chess and now she watched carefully as the servants cleared away the trenchers. The men set up the boards for the two games on the small tables that they carried from the edges of the room.

None of the men had asked her to play. How were they to know in the six years she had been in Wales, archery was not the only skill she had acquired? In Rhodri and Fia’s great manor in Powys, many evenings they played chess.

The game fascinated her because it reflected the world in which she lived: the king who could move in all directions because his will was law; a queen who could move only on the slant and one space at a time because women were rarely allowed to act directly; pawns, like the villeins, tied to their liege lord for the land they rented in exchange for his protection; rooks that had full access to the board but could only move in straight lines like the siege towers they represented; bishops, representing the church, whose movements were restricted but who could jump over others like the knights who protected the king, whose surrender meant the loss of all.

As she watched, Alex took a seat across from Rory at one table and Earl Hugh faced Sir Geoffroi over another. Merewyn sat with the ladies who kept their hands busy with needlework as they spoke of their children. She had no interest in needlework and she had no children. Instead, she kept her eyes on the play of the games and thought of the King of Gwynedd rotting in a cell somewhere in the castle. Rhodri had told her the Welsh king was descended from the great Brian Boru, High King of Ireland. A sad end for so great a man.

Except for her dismal reflections on the King of Gwynedd’s current state, it had been an entirely pleasant evening. The meal had been a tasty array of many dishes and meats and now a lute player provided music that soothed her spirit. Even the earl’s hounds were calm, sleeping before the hearth fire.

She sighed as the games of chess wore on. Patience had never been one of her virtues. But for the game she envisioned, she could wait.

A servant added logs to the hearth fire sending sparks into the air and then refilled the men’s goblets. Merewyn refused more wine. She needed her wits if she was to play a decent game of chess.

Having defeated Rory, Alex now played against Guy, but Alex was restless, stirring on his bench with every move he made of the chess pieces. To her, he appeared like a stallion about to break into a run. Often, he ran his fingers through his long black hair and crossed and re-crossed his legs beneath the table.

From the exasperated sounds coming from Guy, Alex had to be an aggressive player. Only a well-thought-out strategy would defeat him. Could she do it? For some reason, it was important to try.

At the other table, Sir Geoffroi had defeated Earl Hugh, who took the loss with good grace, but demanded a chance to play against Talisand’s lord. Earl Renaud was only too happy to comply and slid onto the bench Sir Geoffroi had vacated.

Merewyn waited for the right moment, eager to try her skill against Alex and hoping, when the time came, she would be allowed to play.