Page 7 of King’s Knight

“What was that prophecy he had of you before we left?” Rory asked. Beside him, Guy set down his cup and leaned in to listen.

Trying to recall the seer’s words, Alex rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. “Something about my wandering…”

“The wolf’s cub will wander, ever restless, until the wolf rampant flies above the red hart,” Maugris intoned in his gravelly voice as he stepped to the table.

“Maugris!” Alex stood. “I see you still speak in riddles. Come, sit with us and share some ale.”

Maggie raised her brows in question to the old man.

He nodded. “But Maggie, you know I prefer wine.” Then to Alex, he said, “I have admired many things about your mother’s people, but I never acquired a taste for English ale.”

Maggie waved her arm, summoning a servant, then muttered something about having to see to the feast and headed toward the kitchens.

Alex was very fond of the housekeeper who kept Talisand’s hall in order and of her daughter, Cassie, Rory’s mother. A redhead like her son, Cassie was another sensible, hard-working woman, who seemed destined to assume her mother’s role reigning over Talisand’s kitchens, laundries and gardens.

Clothed in a fine blue tunic of Talisand wool, Maugris slid his lean frame onto the bench beside Alex. It always amazed him that the old one’s face could be both ancient and ageless, as if he had been born with silver hair and skin wrinkled from the sun. But as ancient as he looked, Maugris’ pale blue eyes sparkled with the excitement of youth.

Before the wine arrived, Alex’s father left the man he’d been speaking with and joined them, taking the small bench at the end of the table.

A servant delivered a pitcher of wine and two goblets and Alex’s father turned to him. “You are here, so I must assume William Rufus has successfully taken his older brother in hand. Is that your news?”

“Aye,” said Alex, sparing a glance for Rory and Guy sitting across from him. “Once Duke Robert got a good look at the size of William’s army, he agreed to terms without a fight. The two signed a treaty in Caen while William’s knights sat around dicing and exchanging blows in a hastily arranged practice yard. ’Twas not the battle we expected, at least not then.”

“What about Henry?” his father asked.

“ ’Twas Henry we fought. William’s agreement with Robert stripped their younger brother of his lands in Normandy. Henry was bitter when he stomped away. We learned later he was holed up at Mont Saint Michel with his men, intending to defend his claims to the Cotentin.” Seeing his father’s expectant expression, Alex added, “The king ordered us to lay siege and we were only too glad to finally draw our swords.”

“I wonder if that was wise on William’s part,” muttered Maugris. “Henry has a temper as bad as the king’s. Worse, he switches sides between his brothers whenever it works to his advantage.”

“What happened at Mont Saint Michel?” asked the Lord of Talisand, his gray eyes alight with interest.

Alex shrugged. “We had a few skirmishes with Henry’s knights, but the ranks of Henry’s soldiers dwindled each day as the king gained ground with Normandy’s nobles. The last of the major supporters for Henry’s cause fell when William persuaded Hugh de Avranches, the Earl of Chester, to cross to his side.” Always one to calculate the course that was to his advantage, Alex was not surprised when Earl Hugh had decided in favor of William’s greater power and wealth. “With the earl’s defection, others quickly followed, swearing allegiance to William.”

“ ’Tis unfortunate Hugh felt he must fight for Henry and all to the good he is back in William’s fold,” said Alex’s father.

Rory leaned forward. “Alex will not tell you but he displayed great skill, so much so the men are now calling him the Black Wolf.”

Alex stared into his ale. As proud as he was of having the favor of the king and the other knights and as much as he had wanted Merewyn to notice, his accomplishments dwindled to the ordinary when he compared them to those of his great father. But when he looked up, he was pleased to see the pride in his father’s face.

Guy chimed in, “The siege ended when Henry’s men cried thirst and Duke Robert had water delivered to them.”

The Lord of Talisand laughed. “ ’Tis no surprise. Pliable, weak Robert would hardly allow his younger brother to perish of thirst.”

“Those were nearly the duke’s words when the king erupted in anger,” Alex said with a smile. “William accused his brother of keeping a good store of enemies by giving them meat and drink. His face turned crimson and he began to stutter. For a moment, I thought he might run Robert through.”

His father seemed to consider the possibility. “The two have come to blows more than once.”

“Days later,” Alex said, “Henry sued for an honorable surrender and his brothers granted it, pleased to see the back of him, I think.”

Maugris asked, “Is William satisfied with his foray into Normandy?”

Alex took another drink of his ale. “Yea, I suppose. And Robert is with him, but the king came back to England earlier than expected.”

His father raised his brows and Alex answered the unspoken question. “Word reached the king in Normandy that Malcolm, the King of Scots, had marched into England to besiege New Castle upon Tyne. William now prepares for war, gathering his army to march north. He will call a meeting of his barons soon. Will you go?”

“One does not refuse the king,” said his father. “But your mother will not be happy to hear William Rufus has set his eyes upon Scotland. Your Uncle Steinar rides with King Malcolm.”

“An uncle I have never met,” Alex reminded him.