Ruin eight years of hard work or put his friend and ally’s daughter in grave danger.
Would he choose the greater good of England or the greater good of one family?
And that was the dilemma facing Sean de Lara as the king’s escort rolled towards Norwich.
CHAPTER SIX
“The king is approaching.” Peter caught up to Alexander as the man stood at one of the food tables. “Where is my sister?”
Alexander had a cup of boiled apple juice in one hand and a few slices of bread in the other. All around them, the wedding feast was going on but Peter’s words had him on alert. He immediately turned to the road that crossed through the town, the same road they had come in on. Other than people dancing on it, or otherwise going about their business, nothing seemed amiss.
“Are you certain?” he asked, straining to catch a glimpse. “Who told you that?”
“There are people arriving in town from the countryside for this feast and they said that John is approaching,” Peter replied. “I heard some of them talking.”
Alexander didn’t want the king or his retinue to see him or the others. In fact, it was best that they weren’t seen at all until the time was right. He set the food in his hands down.
“Go find Kevin and Bric,” he said. “Get your horses and get to Norwich. I will find Christin.”
But Peter shook his head. “I will find my sister,” he said. “It is more important that you get to Norwich ahead of the king and let Old Daveigh know of the man’s impending arrival.”
Alexander wanted to argue with him; he really did. He wanted to be the one to retrieve Christin, but he was afraid that if he argued the point with Peter, that the man might think it strange. Suspicious, even. Alexander wasn’t even sure what he was feeling for Christin, but he didn’t want to tip her brother off before he was ready to face it himself. All he knew was that he wanted to be near her.
He couldn’t seem to let it go.
“You heard me,” he said, pointing to the crowd of revelers. “Get going. I’ll find your sister and bring her along.”
“But –!”
Alexander had already turned away at that point. He wasn’t going to argue with Peter, who simply took off running in the opposite direction when Alexander shut him down. The man had his orders and was moving to carry them out.
Alexander had the stone bench in his sight and instantly saw that it was vacant. Suspecting that Christin wouldn’t have gone far in her state, he jogged over to the bench, all the while looking around to see if he could locate her. The festivities were still going on around them as rumors of the king’s approach spread, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Puzzled but not panicked, his gaze moved to the small church.
The doors were open.
That gave him an idea.
Alexander made his way over to the church with the small and crowded churchyard built against it. It was a beautiful church, in truth, with a tall steeple that looked like it had once been a castle tower, built from dark granite. He passed into the cool, quiet sanctuary, looking into the dark recesses for Christin, and noticing that there were backless stone benches against the walls, tucked into the darkness. He hadn’t taken ten steps when he immediately spied Christin laying on one of the stone benches.
Quietly, he made his way over to her.
She was dead asleep, her mouth open as she snored softly. Alexander stood there a moment, smiling faintly, thinking that he wasn’t going to wake her. Since he’d become acquainted with her, she’d had quite a time of it – the French spy, the near-dressing down by William Marshal because of it, the fight at The Pox, and then riding to Norwich in horrible weather and hardly sleeping for it. No wonder that strong ale had hit her so hard.
She deserved a bit of a rest.
Therefore, he let her sleep. Quietly, he sat down by her head, leaning back against the stone wall of the church and feeling his own fatigue. He was weary also. To the soft sounds of her steady breathing, he closed his eyes.
Sleep came almost instantly.
The next Alexander realized, someone was speaking. His eyes rolled open and he could see that it was quite dark in the church now. It didn’t occur to him that he, too, had fallen asleep until he lifted his head only to see that Christin’s head was now in his lap, using his thigh as a pillow, and his left arm was draped over her body protectively. He froze, confused and groggy, as he watched her sleeping peacefully, curled up against him.
“My lord?”
There was that voice again. Alexander looked up to see a tall, thin man in priestly robes bent over, peering at him curiously.
“My lord?” the man said again. “You cannot sleep here. Vespers has begun. If it is a hostel you seek, there is one on the edge of town.”
Alexander rubbed his eyes, yawning. “Vespers,” he muttered, thinking on how long he could have possibly been asleep. They came into the village around midday, so they’d been asleep at least five hours, possibly more. Looking down at Christin, still sleeping soundly, he shook her gently. “My lady? Christin?”
She barely stirred and he could see that she had drooled all over his breeches. The sight actually made him grin. He shook her again.
“Christin, wake up,” he said quietly. “We must move on to Norwich.”
Christin took a long, deep breath and opened her eyes. Alexander could see the long lashes fluttering. She stared out into the sanctuary for a few moments before putting a hand up, feeling where her head was resting. He could see that she was trying to figure it all out and it was rather amusing. Then, she wiped her mouth, lifted her head, and looked at the big wet patch on the leather breeches.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned to see who she had been passed out on. When their eyes met and she saw who it was, she closed her eyes briefly as if to ward off the sight.
“Bloody Christ,” she muttered, wiping at her mouth again to wipe away the remains of the saliva. “I do not even know what to say. To apologize does not seem sufficient.”
“Apologize for what?”
She looked at him then. “That,” she said, pointing to the wet patch on his breeches. “When I laid down on this bench, you were not here, but now I wake up and find myself… well, laying on you. It is unforgivable.”
He grinned. “Don’t take it so hard,” he said. “I fell asleep sitting up, if it is any consolation. I came in here to find you but you were sleeping so peacefully that I did not have the heart to wake you. So, I sat down beside you and here we are.”
Christin put her hand to her still-fuzzy head. “What was in that ale we drank?”
Alexander sighed wearily, rising to his feet. “Something I shall never drink again,” he said, turning to her and holding out a hand. “Come along, my lady. Your brother will be wondering what has become of us.”
Christin eyed his outstretched hand. Then she looked up at him, her expression one of disbelief and confusion.
“Are you truly so patient with fools?” she asked.
“What fools?”
“Me,” she said. “I simply do not understand why you should bother with me. You are an important man. The Marshal put you in command of this escort and we should have been at Norwich several hours ago from the looks of it. It is dark outside, meaning we have slept away the entire afternoon. Where are my brother and the others?”
“At Norwich Castle,” he said. “The king arrived this afternoon so they went ahead to announce the arrival to de Winter. I went to locate you and, finding you sleeping here, I simply let you sleep. It was better than taking you to Norwich and showing them all how drunk you were. I am certain you would not have preferred that.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth popped open. “You did it to save me?”
“I did it so you could be rested and sober when you arrived.”
Christin shook her head in awe. “Again… I do not know what to say,” she said. “I am so ashamed with what happened. It seems that nothing has gone right since we were introduced. You must think I a
m an utterly ridiculous woman.”
His hand was still outstretched and he reached out, taking her arm and pulling her off the bench. “I think you are a unique young woman and I am honored to know you,” he said quietly. “Shall we go on to Norwich now?”
Christin didn’t say a word. Perhaps it was best that she not say anything because he held her by the hand, leading her out into the night beyond. She found herself looking at his enormous hand as it held hers, wondering when he was going to let it go, but he never did.
He held it quite firmly.
The feast was still going on, even as night fell, with torches lighting up the evening. Alexander led her through the crowds, shoving aside a man who tried to give them more of that powerful ale, and continued down the road until they came to the livery where their horses had been stabled. Collecting the beasts, they took off up the road towards Norwich.
And that was the only time he let go of her hand. If Christin didn’t know better, she would say his hand holding went beyond polite concern. It was just a feeling she had.
God, she hoped so.
Norwich Castle was lit up like a beacon against the night sky, a massive place in a dominant position over the cosmopolitan city of Norwich. The architecture was purely Norman, a great box structure with smooth stone facing, making it unique in the structures of castles throughout England.
The castle itself was a fortress to be reckoned with. The massive keep sat atop a motte, but there were three additional mottes in a line beside it, each one smaller in size, and each one linked by a retractable bridge so in times of trouble, each motte would serve as its own separate fighting platform.
The military attributes were almost too long to list. The castle had only been breached once in known history, but it was a miracle as to how that had even happened. Alexander was impressed anew every time he saw the place, for it was truly a marvel. It belonged to the crown, but the House of de Winter had been garrison commanders since the times of the Duke of Normandy, so it was more of a de Winter castle than anything else. Everyone referred to it as a de Winter castle and the House of de Winter was deeply entrenched in Norfolk as a result. They held most of the northern part of Norfolk and into Lincolnshire.
The House of de Winter was truly a powerful and distinguished family.
As Alexander and Christin entered the first of a series of gatehouses built upon the mottes, the de Winter men recognized Christin and greeted her, and she introduced Alexander. His name alone was legendary with most fighting men and if they hadn’t heard of him, then they’d certainly heard of William Marshal. It was a name that opened doors.
Passing through the first two gatehouses, they crossed the bridge to the third and immediately noticed that the king’s entourage had set up camp on the west side of the motte with colorful tents and royal standards. Torches lit up the area as men moved about. This was also the motte where the stables were, so she and Alexander headed to the enormous stable area on the east side where grooms were waiting to take their mounts.
As Christin dismounted and untied her satchel from her saddle, her gaze kept moving to the king’s encampment. The motte was quite large, so they weren’t in danger of encroaching on the king’s camp, but there were royal soldiers moving about. Christin hadn’t been concerned with John’s visit to Norwich until her conversation with Alexander and, now, she found herself watching the men who were setting up the tents, wondering where, exactly, the king was.
“Do you think John is inside the keep?” she asked Alexander.
He was just pulling his saddlebags from his horse. He glanced over at her, seeing that her attention was on the king’s encampment. He could hear the concern in her voice.
“More than likely,” he said. “Where will you go now?”
“The same place you are going,” she said. “I must report back to Old Daveigh and then I shall seek Lady de Winter.”
Alexander slung his bags over his shoulder as he came to stand next to her, but she wasn’t moving. She was watching the king’s encampment.
“I would not worry,” he said quietly. “You know what you must do. Remain out of sight from the king or, at the very least, away from him. We are looking for a greater threat against him, meaning you will have to listen to the gossip of visiting ladies and even men to see if there is any information to glean.”
Christin knew that and she nodded, drawing on that great de Lohr courage she had. “I am not worried,” she lied. “And I find that men know more than the women do. I will have to find a young lord to drink with so he will tell me all his secrets.”
Somehow, that statement didn’t sit well with Alexander. He didn’t like the thought of her sitting with an amorous young lord as she tried to bleed information from him. Alexander knew she must have done it a dozen times, given what she did for The Marshal, but hearing her say it… nay, he didn’t like it in the least. He didn’t like the idea of her prostituting herself like that even though it was her duty.
God help him, he didn’t like her duty.
What was happening to him?
He cleared his throat softly.
“If you wish to stay clear of the king, at least for now, I would stay away from the men,” he said. It was mostly the truth. “Stay with the women and listen to what they have to say. I will handle the men, along with your brother and Bric and Kevin. Let us do our duty and you do yours. We cannot, and should not, get close to the women, but you can. That is where you are most valuable.”
If Christin thought his directive was coming from a jealous and confused potential suitor, she didn’t give any indication. It was a command coming from her superior and she accepted it as such. She simply nodded her head and started walking. Alexander followed.
Norwich was lit up with the light from a thousand torches on this night and as they crossed the bridge towards the keep, they were seeing more and more royal soldiers. Alexander was dressed in full protection as a seasoned knight, bearing the green and white shield of William Marshal on his tunic, but Christin wasn’t wearing anything other than her traveling dress and cloak. She’d lost the garland in her hair somewhere back at the feast. She wasn’t hard to miss with her dark hair and pale eyes, attracting the attention of some of the king’s soldiers.
Alexander could see the lascivious looks in her direction and his blood began to boil. Christin didn’t belong to him; she wasn’t anything to him. At least, not yet, but there was a huge part of him that was feeling overwhelmingly protective over her. He would have liked nothing better than to gouge out the eyes of the men who were mentally undressing her as she walked by.
Finally, he could stand no more.
“Hold my arm,” he muttered.
She looked at him in surprise. “What did you say?”
His gaze was on the men around them on the bridge. “I told you to hold my arm,” he said. “These soldiers must believe you either belong to me or have my protection so they will not try to accost you.”
“But…”
“Hold my arm.”
He hissed at her, firmly, and she immediately grabbed his elbow, making it look as if, indeed, they were a pair. Not strangely, Alexander was coming to wish that they were. He felt puffed up like a peacock having her on his arm.
Proud as he’d never been proud in his life.
They came off the bridge and into the motte that contained the keep, which was immediately to their left. There was a yard here and several outbuildings, including a small garden, but Alexander headed straight for the keep. There was a stone staircase that led to a guarded lobby. As they headed up the staircase, Christin looked at him.
“May I let go of your arm now?” she asked.
He nodded. “You should,” he said. “I would have some explaining to do if Peter saw us.”
Christin removed her hand. “He is too protective,” she said. “He would undoubtedly tell my father.”
“I am not afraid of your father.”
“You aren’t?”
H
e shook his head as they reached the protected lobby, but he paused before stepping in. “There is something you should know, Cissy,” he said. “No man frightens me and if I want something, a thousand Christopher de Lohrs could not stand in my way. In the end, I will have it.”
Her lips twitched with a smile. “I believe you.”
“Good,” he said. “Because, at some point, I suspect we might have this conversation again. Come along now and stay close.”
With that, he headed into the hall, but Christin was still lingering on what he’d just said. She rushed after him but, all the while, her mind was trying to decipher what he could have meant. She wasn’t entirely certain of his message but, instinctively, it made her heart flutter in ways she’d never known before.
In the end, I will have it.
Could he possibly mean her?
She wondered.
Forcing herself away from thoughts of Alexander, at least for the moment, she looked out over the great hall as they passed through it. The room was crowded – very crowded – and men were seated around tables as servants moved about, bringing the precursor to the coming meal. Drink and cheese and bread were plentiful upon the three big feasting tables that she could see, with a massive blaze in the hearth that was belching smoke into the hall. The chamber itself was tall, with windows for ventilation at the top of it for the escaping smoke.
Alexander was heading for the secondary hall called the knight’s hall. It was off of the main hall and where the lord usually feasted with his knights and senior officers. Lady de Winter had her own separate feasting chamber off of the knight’s chamber, a small room that was cozy and only for the women.
As Alexander and Christin entered the knight’s hall, they immediately saw Peter eating at the table along with several other de Winter knights. But there was no Bric and no Kevin.
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