Page 33 of King’s Knight

Alex had agreed with his mother, but could do nothing, despite her urging him to raise the matter with William.

His father had sympathized, but in the end, shrugged. “Alex is the king’s knight, Serena, compelled to serve his sovereign no matter his views on the matter.”

The knights from Talisand, joined by Earl Hugh and the “page” accompanying them, approached the waiting men. Talisand’s lord, Earl Hugh and Sir Geoffroi rode in front. Merewyn rode next to Alex where he could keep an eye on her. Rory and Guy moved up to flank them.

Glancing at Merewyn in her green and brown archer’s clothing with her brown felt cap, he was struck by how young she looked. The description of a page was not far off. He suddenly wished her pony was a dark bay and not white, for its color, a stark contrast to the muted colors of the forest, drew the eye. ’Twas the only white horse in the hunt and given the apparent youth and sex of the rider, the king was certain to notice. The possibility disturbed Alex greatly.

“You are scowling,” whispered Merewyn.

“I have good reason!” he hissed back.

“Welcome, Earl Renaud,” said one of the barons from the midst of the hunters. Alex recognized the man. ’Twas Robert fitzHaimo, baron of Gloucester, one of the king’s loyal subjects. Like the Red Wolf, fitzHaimo had served the first William and now served the second. The baron was slight of frame and his chestnut hair nearly the color of Alex’s father’s, only longer. The Red Wolf might be a decade older, but to Alex his father was somehow more virile, his presence more dominating than the other men.

“Do you wait for the king?” asked Alex’s father.

“Aye,” replied fitzHaimo. “His huntsman has been here with his scent hound so that we now know the path the deer will take. He is stationing the hounds ahead along the expected route.”

“A messenger arrived some time ago,” said a man Alex did not recognize, “advising us the king would be late. We expect him any moment.”

Altogether a score of men waited for the king. The sun was now strong in the sky and the rain of the night before was causing steam to rise off the damp vegetation where the sun’s rays reached to the forest floor.

“Go on,” Alex told Rory and Guy. “Greet the others.” Then frowning at Merewyn, he said, “I will stay with my page.”

Merewyn raised her eyes to the trees.

Rory and Guy chuckled as they walked their horses around Alex’s father and Sir Geoffroi to greet the knights with whom they were acquainted. Earl Hugh had already wandered off to converse with one of the barons.

Azor was restless beneath Alex. Neither of them liked to wait. Then, too, the stallion might be sensing his master’s anxiety. He walked the horse in a circle, then brought it alongside Merewyn. She had not moved at all, her mare standing serene and seemingly content.

“Say nothing unless you are asked a question,” he cautioned in a low voice. “If a question comes to you, short answers are best. In truth, I would have no one hear your voice.”

She nodded. But he was not fooled. Now that she had what she wanted, she appeared compliant. But the glimmer of defiance in her blue-hazel eyes told him once the hunt began, he could not be assured she would remain at his side.

A horn sounded from behind them. In the distance, hounds bayed.

The king.

* * *

Merewyn’s stomach clenched as the king and his guards arrived. She had never met this William but she knew the Norman knight who had raped her mother had served the first one. She straightened her back, tugged her cap down on her head and stiffened her resolve. I will not cower.

Alex tossed her a look of caution, his gray eyes stormy. “You have nothing to worry about if you remain silent.”

Of what does he worry? But she nodded all the same.

She knew instantly which of the approaching riders was the king. His resplendent attire captured her eye: a bejeweled, scarlet tunic over blue silk undertunic, the sleeves extending to his wrists. On his thick fingers were many rings, each displaying a different jewel. He had long yellow hair, a small red beard and florid cheeks. The horse he rode was a magnificent Spanish chestnut stallion. She was surprised to see how short the king’s legs were, but his upper body was powerfully built. Yet the king had a protruding belly, like the richly attired man with dark hair who rode beside him.

She trembled as William Rufus fixed his eyes upon her. The color of his eyes was somewhere between green and brown, and they contained glittering specks like small fires. His intense scrutiny was unsettling.

Shifting his gaze to Alex and his father, the king said, “My wolves ride together. Excellent!”

“Sire,” said Talisand’s lord, bowing his head to the younger man as Sir Geoffroi and Alex did the same. Merewyn bowed her head and said nothing.

“Bonne chasse!” The king proclaimed, bidding them a good hunt, and left them, walking his magnificent stallion toward the front of the party.

“Who is the one who rides beside him?” she asked Alex, noting a certain resemblance except for the dark hair of the king’s companion.

“Duke Robert, the king’s older brother. They are currently at peace since their treaty at Caen. The duke intends to accompany William’s army to Scotland because he knows Malcolm.”