Page 43 of King’s Knight

“It was my father’s wish when he sent me to England that one day I would return to Scotland to govern the people,” Duncan had told him.

Alex, his father and Sir Geoffroi approached the king, who gestured to available places around the table.

“Now that all my barons are here,” said William, “we will share our royal strategy with you. Our plan is to take the same route my father took years ago following the old Roman road north. My fleet of fifty ships, laden with corn, will meet us on the Tyne River to resupply us before sailing on to Scotland where my army and my ships will corner the wily King of Scots.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.

“Worked well before,” said Earl Hugh.

Alex shared a glance with his father and Sir Geoffroi and detected no objection in their eyes. The plan was sound.

He eyed Duncan sitting to the king’s right. What did he think of this plan to set upon his father? The knight’s face told him nothing. Mayhap he had lived so long among the Normans he was more at home with them than the Scots.

“With the lapse of time,” the king continued, “I expect Malcolm has retreated to Lothian and his fortress at Dun Edin. ’Tis where we will find him.” He looked around the table at the faces of his barons. “Do any of you disagree?”

Those sitting around the king shook their heads, Alex among them.

Duke Robert stood, goblet in hand. “It appears we are agreed. To the coming encounter with the King of Scots, a battle if it must be!”

All stood, even the king. “To the battle!” they shouted and quaffed their wine. But in his father’s eyes, Alex now glimpsed a flicker of doubt.

When the men began to disperse, entering into separate conversations, Alex strode to him. “Father, you have concerns?”

His father shot a glance at Sir Geoffroi, standing next to him. “I remember the Conqueror’s meeting with Malcolm in Scotland nearly twenty years ago. The Scottish king was surrounded, William’s army before him and the fleet behind him, and yet he bargained for peace and got it. The Conqueror was no fool. A battle on the Scots’ territory is not easily fought, nor easily won. He was happy to have Malcolm’s oath.”

“We were there to see it,” said Sir Geoffroi.

“But was not that oath extinguished with the Conqueror’s death?” Alex asked.

“Aye,” said his father, “but mayhap Malcolm can be persuaded to give it again.”

“If the king will agree to take it,” said Alex. “I am inclined to believe William will want more.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the king came to join them. “Good day to my wolves,” he said, “and to you, Sir Geoffroi.”

“Good day to you, Sire,” replied Alex’s father, inclining his head. Alex and Sir Geoffroi dipped their heads, acknowledging the king.

Fixing his eyes on Alex, William said, “You swept the young bowman, Merry, away so fast last eve, I did not have time to inquire of her origins. I would know where such a delightful creature comes from.”

Sir Geoffroi answered. “York, My Lord. Her mother was from Yorkshire and she was born there.”

“And her father?” asked the king. “Is he also English?”

Sir Geoffroi’s expression turned somber. “Nay, he was Norman, a knight.”

Alex’s father added, “Sir Eude is dead, Sire.”

“Hmm…” the king seemed to ponder, then asked, “Killed fighting the Northumbrians?”

“Nay, My Lord,” said Sir Geoffroi. “He was killed in York by my own right hand.”

The king’s reddish brows lifted in surprise at the senior knight towering over him. Alex had known a Norman knight raped Merewyn’s mother; he did not know Sir Geoffroi had killed the man responsible.

There was no hint of regret in Sir Geoffroi’s eyes. “He was a despicable man, My Lord, unworthy to be a knight. He brutally forced Merewyn’s mother, an innocent, and was about to slice the neck of a young orphan under my wife’s protection when I stopped him.”

The king tossed his mane of yellow hair over one shoulder and rubbed his short red beard with the fingers of one hand. “Some of my father’s men were mercenary knights, no doubt ruffians of the worst sort, but that was what he needed at the time.” Looking up at Sir Geoffroi, he said, “I cannot find fault with what you did. Mayhap ’twas best my father’s army was well rid of him.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” said the senior knight, looking relieved. “I can assure you we have done right by Merewyn. Earl Renaud and I have assured she was educated as a lady.” He glanced at Alex’s father. “She is not only a talented archer, but a virtuous young woman.”