Page 54 of King’s Knight

“Something is amiss,” he said. “See the fields of ripe flax in the distance?”

“Aye, what of it?” asked Guy.

“They lie half-harvested yet there are no villeins, no carts nor any cattle to be seen. ’Tis as if the whole city has drawn into itself, hiding behind Durham’s walls.”

“Could word have reached them of William’s army marching north?” asked Rory.

“Possibly,” Alex said, considering what might have happened. “Or, it could be the Scots frightened the people into abandoning their fields and hiding their cattle.”

“I was always taught the Northumbrians like neither the Scots nor the Normans,” said Guy.

“Your mother, Lady Emma, would know,” Alex said, casting a glance at the younger knight. “In York, she saw the worst of the Conqueror’s wrath and after, Malcolm was known to raid even before this.”

“Aye,” said Rory, “we will find no welcome here.”

Turning Azor, Alex faced his other men and gestured to the woods. “We will camp here for the night. Be vigilant on your watches for we do not know who yet roams the woods or if all the Scots have departed.” He then made assignments as to who would hunt and forage and who would take the first watch. The squires would gather wood and build the fires.

Alex reserved for himself the work of spying out the land to see what might be learned.

Turning back to his friends, he said, “Leave the banner, Rory. Let us water the horses and then see what lies beyond these woods.”

By the time the three of them left the camp, the sun was low in the sky but still provided ample light for the mission Alex had in mind.

Not knowing what they might find, they had donned their helms and carried their shields, their weapons at the ready.

The land they scouted bore the marks of the season, spring crops ready to harvest, winter seed not yet sewn. Sloping, gorse-covered hills and scattered leaf-strewn woodlands surrounded all.

Rocky outcroppings sometimes slowed their progress, but eventually they crested a hill to look down upon the city of Durham to the east. Around the elevated walled city meandered the River Wear. Dense vegetation grew tall on either side of its banks.

They were just heading down the slope when Alex spotted a large group of mounted warriors to the north, as many as two hundred. The riders wore mail, but then, both Normans and Scots did. Narrowing his eyes and scanning the group, he spotted the familiar banner of Nigel d’Aubigny, a white lion rampant on a bright red field.

“ ’Tis Sir Nigel,” he said, urging Azor down the hill to where the baron sat on his horse surrounded by his knights.

Alex and his friends posed no threat to the large group of knights but they were closely watched all the same, heads turning at their approach. Since he carried no banner, neither his father’s nor his own, they were not recognized until they drew close.

Sir Nigel rode out to meet him. “I’d know that stallion anywhere. Greetings, son of the Red Wolf! How is your father?”

Alex grinned, pleased to find a friend when he could have so easily encountered an enemy. “He is well at Talisand and sends his regards and his eldest son to carry the message.”

Sir Nigel chuckled, took off his helm and extended his arm to Alex. His gray-streaked brown hair was still thick and framed a lined face.

Alex doffed his helm and accepted the arm of friendship. “Cainhoe and Bedfordshire are a long way from Durham. Do you ride with William’s army?”

“Aye, the king asked me to take a strong force ahead to chase the Scots north. Word of our arrival had its effect. Malcolm must have mistaken us for William’s full army. When we got here, the city was caught between the remnants of the Scots fleeing north and our knights advancing from the south.”

“And the people of Durham? We’ve seen none.”

“Holed up in the city,” Sir Nigel said, looking over Alex and his two companions. “How many of you are there?”

“A score of knights and men-at-arms camped in nearby woods. We only just arrived. Do you expect William soon?”

“Tomorrow, I should think. He rides with his brother and Duncan, King Malcolm’s son. Even Ranulf has come. The man’s no warrior but mayhap William feels in the need of a priest.”

Alex laughed. They both knew Ranulf had few, if any, duties as the king’s priest.

“Tonight you and your men must join my camp,” insisted Sir Nigel. “Many of the knights with me are of an age with you and the conversations around the cook fires will no doubt have them telling outrageous tales of their valor.”

“Thank you,” said Alex. “My men might enjoy that.”