Silent Knight: Second in Command Series - Alexander

by Rose, Elizabeth

  “I’m sorry, I should be going.” Alex mounted his horse, keeping his eyes away from the traveling party.

  “Why are you here and who are you?” This time, it was the other woman that spoke. She seemed much more mature than the blond girl, and not nearly as haughty. She looked to be a few years older than him. The woman wasn’t as adorned with jewels and elegant clothes like Claire. Somehow, this made Alex feel more comfortable.

  “I was just passing through,” he said, not wanting to tell them more. He started thinking about the situation. If Claire called Lady Mowbray, Mother, then Claire could very well be his sister. He wondered if the other woman was a sister of his, too. Then again, he didn’t really believe Crandell’s story, so why was he even giving it any thought?

  “Are you here for the Christmas festivities?” asked the woman.

  “What festivities?” He looked up in question.

  “Lady Charlotte, you have to be jesting,” said Claire. “He’s obviously not a knight or a nobleman, so he’s not invited.”

  “Why not?” said Lady Mowbray.

  “Summer, what are you saying?” asked her husband. Hearing him call her Summer hit Alex hard. Everything Crandell had told him swarmed in his head at once. It was too much to think about at a time like this. He needed to get out of here, now. He should never have come. What had he been thinking?

  “I saw the way he handled a sword, and it is apparent he can fight as well as any titled man,” said Summer.

  “Are you a knight?” asked Charlotte.

  “Nay,” he said, looking down at his ring. “I’m not a knight.”

  “Are you a noble?” Charlotte continued with her questions.

  Once again, he didn’t know how to answer.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Summer, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. “You are here, and you will at least join us for a meal. Right, Warren?”

  “Whatever my lady wants,” said Warren, leading the way back to the castle.

  Not wanting to be rude, Alex turned and rode to the castle at the back of the procession. The girl named Charlotte slowed her horse and sidled up next to him.

  “You never told us your name,” she said. This girl was a curious one. Perhaps too curious for her own good.

  It was easier to find his tongue when he wasn’t staring at the lord and lady of the castle. For some odd reason, he felt comfortable around Lady Charlotte. “I’m Alexander Masterson.” He noticed Summer glance over her shoulder when he said his name. He cursed under his breath, realizing he should have used a different surname. Too late now.

  “Masterson?” asked Summer. “I once had a guard at the castle with that surname. Perhaps you know him. His name is Crandell.”

  Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Aye. I know him,” he answered, not wanting to lie to a woman who might be his own mother. He had to tell her about Crandell now. “He was my father.”

  “Your father?” This time Lord Mowbray looked over his shoulder as he spoke. “I didn’t know Crandell had any living children. Where is the man now?” He and his wife exchanged an odd glance between them that Alex didn’t understand. Talking about Crandell seemed to make them uptight.

  “I buried him two days ago.”

  “Oh! Crandell is dead? I am so sorry,” said Summer in surprise.

  “I would love to hear about your late father,” said Charlotte. “I lost my father recently, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Alex, being sincere. “Were you close to him?”

  “Nay,” said Charlotte with a shake of her head. “I grew up barely knowing him at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she was raised in a nunnery,” answered Claire, giggling.

  “I was not.” Charlotte’s brows dipped as she answered. “I just stayed there for a few years after my husband died.”

  “I am sorry about your husband,” Alex told her.

  “Seven years is not a few years,” Claire said under her breath.

  “You were there seven years?” Alex asked in surprise.

  “My father wanted me to stay there, but my mother brought me back to the castle after my father’s death,” explained Charlotte.

  “How long were you married?” he curiously asked as they rode.

  “Not long. I’ve been a widow much longer than I was married.”

  “What happened to your children when you went to live at the convent?” he asked, finding this woman fascinating.

  Charlotte froze up, not seeming as if she wanted to answer.

  “She’s barren,” piped up Claire.

  “Claire!” scolded Lady Summer. “Ride up here with me and never mind what is going on behind you.”

  Charlotte could have died from embarrassment when Claire shouted out that she was barren. It was the last thing she wanted the handsome man named Alex to know.

  “I – I’m not barren,” she stuttered. “Not really. I am sure if I were married longer I would have had children.”

  “Of course,” answered Alex, not trying to get away from her like she expected him to do once he found out her story. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t even seem to care. That got her wondering if he had a wife at home.

  “Where do you and your wife live?” asked Charlotte fishing for answers.

  “I’m not married.”

  Her interest piqued. “Is that so? Why not?”

  He flashed her a confused look and shook his head slightly. His eyes dropped down to his leg.

  “Oh,” she said, understanding what he meant. Now, she regretted asking because all she did was put him in an uncomfortable position. She needed to do something to change the conversation quickly. “Where did you learn to wield the sword so well?” she asked, having been awestruck that a commoner could fight with such precision.

  “I learned from my father.”

  “Crandell Masterson,” she said, repeating the name she’d heard him say earlier. “Lady Summer said he was once a guard right here at Framlingham Castle?”

  “Aye, that’s right.”

  “Why did he leave? And where did you live your entire life?”

  She supposed in her eagerness to get to know him better, she asked too many questions. He didn’t seem to like it at all. He squirmed in the saddle and directed his horse forward.

  “Excuse me, Lady Charlotte, but my horse needs to run.” Then with a flick of the reins, his horse took off at a run surprising her that the old thing could even move that fast.

  “That horse isn’t the one who needed to run,” she mumbled to herself, feeling as if no man would ever want her again.

  Chapter 4

  If Alex’s curiosity along with Crandell’s story hadn’t lodged in his brain, Alex would have turned the horse around and ridden back to Devon as fast as he could. But now that he was here and had met Lady Summer and her daughter, he was curious to know more. But the most intriguing thing that kept him here was Lady Charlotte and all the questions she’d been asking about him. No one had held interest in him the way she did. Being a mercenary his entire life, he’d learned to keep his mouth closed. Nobles who wanted to hire killers to join their army weren’t the kind of men who cared what they were getting. All that mattered to them was if they could wield a sword. Crandell had always been sure to rent or borrow horses when they went looking for work. With Alex atop a horse, they never even knew about his bad leg until the job was completed.

  “I’ll take your horse,” said a young stable boy, running up to get the reins. Several more boys darted out of the stables to take the horses from the nobles as well.

  “Thank you,” said Alex, sliding off the horse and taking both the swords before giving the reins to the boy.

  “What about your travel bags?” asked the boy. “Did you want me to bring them to your solar, my lord?” Alex looked at the boy in surprise, never having been called a lord before. For a split second, the thought rushed through his head that his identity had been discovered that he really was Peter M
owbray.

  “He’s not a lord and is not staying in the castle,” said Claire, dismounting and throwing her reins to the boy. “He is only here for a meal.”

  “That’s right,” said Alex, fastening a sword on each side of his belt.

  “Then you’ll be sleeping in the stable?” asked the boy. “It is getting dark, and I suspect you won’t be traveling at night in the snow.”

  Alex looked up at the sky to see that it had clouded over. It looked as if it were about to snow again. His cloak was lined in fur, but he was still so cold he could barely bend his limbs. A chamber in the castle with a fire in the hearth would be so welcome right now. But if a stall of hay was all he could get, he would take that, too. He was extremely tired.

  “Aye, if the lord and lady will have me, I’ll sleep in the stall with my horse.”

  “He’ll sleep with the animals where he belongs,” snorted Dreyfis, having overheard them as he passed by atop his horse.

  “Alexander, I am sure Lord and Lady Mowbray would offer you a space near the fire in the great hall to sleep.” Lady Charlotte hurriedly dismounted and rushed to his side. “And you’ll sit by me for the meal,” said Charlotte, taking his arm and heading for the great hall.

  Alex felt awkward escorting a noblewoman to the hall. He felt even more awkward trying to walk with a limp and two swords attached to his sides. But hell if he’d leave the swords behind now that Dreyfis tried to steal them.

  “I will show you around the castle,” said Charlotte in a friendly manner.

  “It’s really not necessary,” he said, but she insisted. They walked across the courtyard toward the keep. Alex spotted Lady Summer hurrying toward an area by the side of the castle. “What is over there?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m not sure because I’ve never been there,” said Charlotte.

  “That’s the dead garden and the graveyard,” said Claire, coming up from behind them. “My mother goes there every single day to put a flower or plant or sprig of holly on the grave of my dead brother.”

  “Your brother?” Alex stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding in his ears. “What was his name?”

  “Why do you even care?” asked Claire.

  “I was just curious.”

  “His name was Peter,” said Claire. “He was a stillborn and had a bad leg, just like you.”

  Alex didn’t want anyone asking questions about his leg so decided to change the subject. He would find out more on his own later. “Something smells delicious,” he said, hoping to bring the conversation around to the meal.

  “Do you like swan?” asked Charlotte. “I hear that is what Lord Mowbray is serving.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tasted it,” he told her.

  “You’ve never tasted swan?” Claire’s eyes grew wide. “What do you usually eat? Pottage?”

  Pottage is what Alex and his father would eat on a good day after they were paid for a job and celebrating at a tavern. Usually, they were lucky if they had brown bread and steamed cabbage to eat. Mercenaries weren’t usually welcome at the lord’s dinner table.

  “Lady Claire, I think I see Lady Regina trying to get your attention,” said Charlotte, coming to Alex’s rescue.

  “Ugh,” said the blond girl. “I think I’ll go to the cemetery with my mother.”

  “I would like to go as well,” said Alex.

  “You would?” Both of the women said together.

  “I . . . feel it is the least I can do. Pay respects, I mean. After all, Lady Mowbray was so kind to invite me to the Christmas festivities when she doesn’t even know me.”

  “Then follow me,” said Claire, leading the way. Charlotte and Alex walked together as Claire led them. Claire moved fast, and it hurt Alex’s leg, but he tried to keep up. It wasn’t comfortable with two swords banging against his sides every time he took a step.

  Charlotte noticed that Alex was having trouble walking quickly in the snow. She didn’t want to embarrass him by telling Claire to slow down, so she did the only thing she could. She pretended to have a stone in her shoe.

  “Oh,” she said, stopping and bending over.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Alex.

  “I seem to have a stone in my shoe and need to stop and take it out. You go on ahead without me.”

  “Nay, I’ll wait with you, my lady,” he said, just like she knew he would. Alex took her arm and guided her toward a stone bench. Claire went on without them. They got to the bench and were about to sit down when Alex stopped her. “Wait,” he said, reaching down and brushing the snow from the seat with his hand. Then he removed his cloak and laid it over the bench and nodded. “It should be fine now. Your gown won’t get wet.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte liked the way Alex treated her. Never had Roger, her late husband thought to brush off a bench for her. And the last thing Roger would have ever done is to put his own cloak down, exposing himself to the cold. Charlotte sat down and started to take off her shoe, but Alex’s hand shot out, resting atop it. She felt his icy cold fingers, realizing he gave up his warmth for her.

  “You don’t need to remove your shoe because I know what you are doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He moved his swords to the side and sat down beside her. “There is snow on the ground and no possible way to get a stone in your shoe, Lady Charlotte. I appreciate what you did, but I wish you wouldn’t have done it.”

  She waited for a second and decided there was no reason to deny it. If she did, he would think she was a liar. “I only said that because sometimes Claire can be very insensitive.”

  “She’s young,” he said, causing her to feel old. Her eyes went down to her lap, and she folded her hands. “And foolish,” he added. “But I am sure she is a wonderful young lady with a very big heart.”

  “You seem to see the best in everyone,” she told him. “Even when Lord Dreyfis treated you poorly, you still held your composure and stayed calm. You are a gentleman.”

  “Sometimes, my lady, looks and acts can be deceiving.”

  “So, you’re not gentle?” she asked, looking up into his dark brown eyes. They held a certain sadness that she didn’t understand.

  “Enough about me,” he told her. “I would like to know more about you, Lady Charlotte. Where do you come from?”

  “I’m from Yorkshire. Where are you from, Alexander?”

  He hesitated, his eyes flashing over to the small garden and graveyard next to the orchard. Lady Summer walked with her arm around her daughter as they made their way to the keep. Charlotte saw Summer wipe a tear from her eye.

  “Everyone calls me Alex,” he told her. “You can do so, too. I have traveled a lot in my lifetime. My father’s job kept us moving.”

  “Oh, yes. He was a guard, wasn’t he?”

  Alex’s head turned to look at her, no expression at all on his face. “I think I’d like to go to the great hall now if you don’t mind. The wind is picking up and making my leg cramp.”

  “Of course.” She stood up and collected his cloak, laying it over his shoulders. “You must be cold since you aren’t wearing your cloak.”

  He looked down, tying his cloak around him. “I am disabled, not a child,” he told her. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I am capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need to depend on anyone.”

  She didn’t know what was bothering him but didn’t think it was the fact she laid his cloak over his shoulders. She noticed the way he looked over to the graveyard. He didn’t show his emotions much, but she got the feeling something disturbed him. Perhaps, it was only the fact his father had passed away days ago. Charlotte wanted to know more about it but didn’t think it was the right time to ask. So, as they walked to the great hall, she made small talk instead.

  “I helped Lady Regina make a mulled, spiced wine,” she told him. “It’ll warm anyone’s bones on such a cold day. I added a little extra cinnamon because I am so fond of the spice.” She looked up to notice him looking over h
is shoulder at the graveyard.

  “That sounds nice,” he said, seeming as if he were in deep thought about something else. “I could use something to warm my bones.”

  Chapter 5

  Upon entering the great hall, Alex felt as if he were in a dream world. Being Christmas Eve, the room was packed with people all making merry on this holiday. Alex entered with a heavy heart, never feeling as lonely as he did tonight. He missed his father dearly. And although Lord and Lady Mowbray accepted him into their home with open arms, he still didn’t feel as if he belonged here.

  “Alex,” said Lady Summer, waving her hand in the air to call him over. He approached the dais with Charlotte at his side. “Join us on the dais for the feast. I have an extra chair set up for you.” She pointed to the end of the long table atop the raised platform where the nobles ate. Everyone else ate below the salt.

  The dais table was decorated ornately for Christmas. A tall salt cellar shaped like a castle was placed in the middle of the table where the lord and lady sat. Salt was expensive and used sparingly during cooking. Only the nobles were allowed to sprinkle extra on their food. He had never known that pleasure. Silver platters lined the table instead of the trenchers, old stale crusts of bread, used as plates by all the others. Each place on the dais even had a chalice for wine that was made of silver. Pine boughs lined the table with small silver bells hanging off the edges. Everything looked surreal and beautiful.

  “Thank you, Lady Summer,” he said, feeling very grateful but not at all worthy to join them. “But I am not a noble. I feel I should sit by the fire with the commoners and servants instead.”

  “Nonsense,” she told him. “You are the son of a good friend of mine and will eat with us. Didn’t Crandell tell you that he considered me the daughter he never had? He was very special to me.”

  Crandell did tell him that. He also told him so much more information that Alex almost wished he hadn’t divulged.

  “Thank you just the same, but I think I’ll warm my bones at the fire and eat with the commoners where I belong.”