King’s Knight (Medieval Warriors #4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Alex speared a piece of smoked salmon with his knife and popped it into his mouth, savoring the salty, somewhat oily taste before washing it down with ale. A few days had passed since the contests and he had finally recovered from his celebration, his appetite returning full force.

His mother, dressed in a ruby-colored gown, glided toward his table and he welcomed her to the seat beside him.

“Do you go to the practice yard this morning?” she asked.

“I cannot avoid it. Rory and Guy want a rematch from yesterday’s practice and some of the men-at-arms are itching to have a chance to trounce the three of us.”

“I shall have a busy day myself. Aethel and I are taking herbs to the village women,” she said as she accepted the bowl of gruel a servant set before her.

“Sir Alain’s wife knows much about herbs and such.”

“She does and they count upon her knowledge. Lora will be joining us a bit later.”

All the while he ate, his eyes kept straying to where Merewyn sat at the next table with Lora, planning their day, no doubt. Since that afternoon in her chamber, now a vague but pleasant memory, Merewyn had been avoiding him. Had he really lain beside her? Held her? Kissed her again? He who, since coming to manhood, had never missed a woman’s presence was missing this one’s. Truth be told, it bothered him greatly. He’d not had a woman since returning home and he was beginning to suspect the cause was Merewyn.

The day after he’d wandered into her bed, Lora had moved into Merewyn’s chamber, saying the two wanted to spend time together before Merewyn left for London. He had to wonder if Merewyn had sought Lora’s company to protect herself from him. Surely she knew he would never harm her. He had not meant to stumble into her chamber, had he? He’d been drunk as a villager after harvest, but even floating in ale, some part of his mind must have known whose chamber it was.

Had he hoped she might welcome him? It was hardly noble to entertain such thoughts about a woman who had once sought his protection, but then she had been a girl, now she was a woman grown. As much as he tried, he could not deny the attraction between them. He was certain she had returned his kiss, at least for a few moments. Even with the ale, he remembered the enticing taste of her and her scent.

Letting out a sigh, he reached for the dish of wild strawberries, popping one into his mouth. The taste of it was sweet. Just like Merewyn .

As far as he could determine, she spent her mornings with Lora and her afternoons with Talisand’s archers. When she donned her bowman’s garb and headed toward the archery field, little Cecily trailed behind her like her shadow.

At one time Alex and Merewyn had been friends. The year before he’d gone to Rouen, she was always close by, her eyes large and adoring. ’Twas why he had looked for her the moment he’d heard she was back, curious to know what had become of her. In all the years he’d been away, he had never forgotten the beguilingly beautiful girl with her blue-hazel eyes, fragile features and golden hair. No longer adoring in her gaze, her manner was wary. But he sensed an inner strength in her that matched the beast in him. Her skill with the bow only made her more fascinating. She was making him think differently about other young women, too. No longer did he see them as merely potential bed partners. With Merewyn re-entering his life, he had to consider other women could be as intelligent and skilled.

He rose from his bench, belted on his sword and bid his mother good day. He was just about to reach the door of the hall when Merewyn and Lora passed by. Holding the door for them, he asked Merewyn, “Will you take part in the hunt this afternoon? ”

She paused, allowing him time to peruse her simple gown of blue linen that brought his attention to her unusual eyes. “I might. It would be my first with the men of Talisand.”

“Good. I shall look for you as we depart.”

“I should never like to hunt,” Lora said. “I am content to tend the herb garden and wait for the hunters to return.”

“There is place for that, too, my lady.” He bowed and watched the two women walk arm in arm from the hall, so very different. He had new respect for each of them, but only one had the courage to hunt with a wolf.

***

By the time the hunting party formed in the bailey, Merewyn had donned her archer’s clothing and Ceinder was saddled and waiting. She grabbed the pommel and slid her foot into the stirrup. Lifting herself into the saddle, she made sure her bow was secure and her quiver was at her right shoulder where she had only to bend her elbow to fetch an arrow.

The hounds, excited for the hunt, barked and howled as the men made ready to depart. Lady Emma’s husband, Sir Geoffroi, kept large sight hounds, offspring of Emma’s beloved Magnus she had brought from York. One Christmas, Sir Geoffroi had given some of the pups to Talisand’s lord and now their offspring hunted with him.

In Wales, Rhodri had hunted with rough-coated hounds that bayed to alert the hunters when game was sighted. She and Ceinder had hunted together in Wales but this would be the first time she would hunt with Talisand’s men, the first time she would hunt with Alex.

A dozen riders, including Jamie, Alex, Rory and Guy, waited for the signal from Talisand’s lord. Merewyn could not take her eyes from Alex, sitting atop his great black horse. He wore only a tunic and hosen, but he was still every bit the knight, armed with sword, spear and knife.

Chasing after the deer with him presented a test, for she must concentrate not on Alex but on the hunt, avoiding the men’s horses and spears while she loosed her arrows. Some of Talisand’s archers had gone ahead on foot to await them in the woods. She would have to avoid them, too .

Since that day in her chamber, her mind strayed many times to the handsome heir of Talisand. Alex might not remember that afternoon as drunk as he’d been, but her memories of his body pressed into hers and his kisses trailing down her neck were all too real. Alex had awakened a desire in her that had once been only imagined. Now it was all too easily brought to mind. She pressed her lips together, fighting to keep her mind on the hunt. She no longer thought of him as an arrogant beast, but he was still a man.

When the signal was given, the score of riders spurred their horses to a canter, the knights in the lead, following the dogs. She chased after the men, keeping to their pace. Trees rushed by as the hounds howled and the horses crushed the dense undergrowth beneath their hooves. She was thankful that Ceinder had an eye for obstacles and a steady gait that made riding to hunt with bow and arrow easier than it would be on a larger, bolder horse.

Merewyn slowed, guiding Ceinder around branches that jutted from trees blocking her path.

Shouts echoed through the woods, followed by the hounds’ baying. Deer had been sighted. Ceinder’s reins were already knotted. Now she laid them at the base of the pony’s neck, reached for her bow and rode on.

In the distance, three deer leapt from the cover of the woods and raced across the meadow. The men galloped after them.

In front of her but behind the men, a hart sprang out of the woods, crossing her path. Seeing no other archer, she nocked an arrow, raised her bow and loosed the arrow.

The deer leapt high, as if trying to take wing, and then went down in a flailing tangle of legs.

Slowing Ceinder, Merewyn dropped from her pony and carried her bow to where the deer lay, wanting to assure the animal a quick death.

The deer lay quiet and unmoving, its tongue lolled out, its red sides still. A clean shot . She smiled to herself. Tonight they would dine on venison. Hunting was not merely sport, but necessary to add to their store of meat and she was proud that she could contribute to the meal this eve. July was a hungry month when grain stores were low and the people foraged, waiting for August’s harvest .

She straightened, her eyes searching the woods for a servant who might be following the hunt. Before she could summon help to lift the deer, she heard a snorting sound from the bushes. Turning, she glimpsed a brown snout rising above the green underbrush less than twenty feet away. On either side of its hoary snout were wicked curved tusks as long as her hand. A whiff of musky taint hit her nostrils.

Oh God, a wild boar in rut!

Heart pounding, Merewyn reached for Ceinder’s reins, but the normally calm pony rolled her eyes, showing the whites, and backed away, blowing and snorting.

With a guttural sound, the beast stepped from the brush, sniffing the air. Ceinder let out a high-pitched scream. The boar’s tiny eyes glittered as it snorted and pawed at the ground, agitated by the pony’s panicked dance.

The beast let out a fearful squeal sending chills up Merewyn’s spine. What should she do? Her arrows would not stop a charging boar. Afraid she might only madden the animal if she wounded it, she began to back away. The boar squealed again and charged.

Ceinder fled and Merewyn ran, terrified. She could never outrun the wild beast gaining on her.

Pounding hooves shook the ground. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Alex galloping into the clearing. He swung out of the saddle, landed running and flung his spear all in one powerful motion. The boar crashed to the ground and slid, plowing up the loam, before smashing into Merewyn, knocking her to the ground. One of its tusks pressed against her leg. The spear quivered, jutting up from the beast’s armpit where it pinned the boar’s heart.

Merewyn stared, open-mouthed, still shivering in fear. Part of her bow was beneath her, her quiver of arrows pressing into her back.

Without a word, Alex reached for her, pulling her free of the boar. Lifting her from the ground, he swept her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. “By the grace of God, you are safe.”

She clung to him and the hard strength of his body, her heart hammering in her chest. “You… you saved me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Did you not see the boar?”

“Nay!” she spit out. “I went to check on the deer and the boar was in the bush. He caught me unawares. How did you know to come back?”

“I was heading back to find you when your pony screamed. In these woods it could mean only wolves or boar.”

The sound of pounding hooves made her push away from Alex to stand apart, her arms wrapped around her leather jerkin. Her bow still lay on the ground but the quiver of arrows remained over her shoulder.

Into the clearing rode Alex’s father, Sir Geoffroi and Jamie followed by Rory and Guy.

Talisand’s lord gave the scene a studying perusal: the dead boar with the spear protruding from its wiry hide lying next to the deer with an arrow sticking from its body, Alex and Merewyn on either side, more intent on each other than on the beasts between them. With a concerned look, he asked, “You are both unharmed?”

“Aye,” said Alex. “A fortunate shot stopped the beast.”

“Fortunate?” scoffed Sir Geoffroi. “’Twas not mere luck, that. ’Twas more like miraculous.”

“You have rescued the fair damsel,” said Guy with a grin.

“It was a close thing,” said Alex, glancing at Merewyn and then looking away.

“If it had not been for Sir Alex,” she said to his father, “I would not be alive.”

***

Alex’s hand shook as he grabbed the pommel of his saddle and swung onto Azor’s back. The pounding in his chest was only beginning to subside, but a quick look at Merewyn assured him she was well.

What horror had gripped him when he’d ridden into the clearing to see the boar’s tusks mere feet from Merewyn’s slender body. He remembered little of what followed, certain he’d gone mad. Enraged, he had flung his spear at the beast. Surely God had been with him to enable him to pierce the beast’s heart as he had dropped from his horse in a blur.

He’d had close calls in battle and faced death more than once. But never had the life at risk been Merewyn’s. The pain he felt at the thought of losing her was like no other he had experienced. The moment he’d realized the boar was intent on taking her life, killing the beast was his only purpose.

During the ride back to Talisand, he pondered what the girl meant to him. Kissing her had told him he wanted her in his bed, but his feelings had gone well beyond lust for a beautiful woman. He could not abide the thought of any harm coming to her—or of another man having her. And he had no desire to take another woman to his bed though several made clear they were willing.

Rory and Guy had sought their pleasure and were quick to tell him of their conquests. When his companions noted his unusual abstinence, Alex had said nothing.

“Are you certain you are not ill?” asked Rory one morning when Alex ignored a village girl’s flirting at the practice yard.

“Do I appear ill?” he snapped back. Alex had just defeated Rory in their sparring, thus he expected the reply that followed.

Rory took in Alex’s appearance, which, except for the sweat on his forehead from their lively swordplay, conveyed his readiness to spar again. He was not even winded. “Nay, you do not seem ill.”

When Guy, who had been listening to their conversation, suggested the cause was Merewyn, Alex returned him a dark scowl. He would not allow her name to be bandied about.

In response, his friends grinned widely. “You’ll hear no complaints from this quarter,” Rory said with a smirk. “Leaves more women for me.”

“And me,” put in Guy.

Alex no longer wanted to be a part of his friends’ search for comely wenches to bed. Their pleasure excursions now seemed shallow and his former behavior dishonorable. Being in Merewyn’s company was somehow more satisfying even if he could not touch her.

After they returned from the hunt with the animals they had taken, Alex and his companions left for the river to wash and then change for the feast that would follow. When the time for supper drew near, the enticing smell of boar, spiced with sage and roasting in its own juices, filled the hall, making his mouth water.

As the men and women gathered for the meal, the roast boar was carried into the hall on a huge wooden plank and set on a special table where it was carved. Wine flowed freely as he and his companions ate with Merewyn, Lora, Bea and Alice at the end of one of the trestle tables nearest the dais.

Jamie joined them, commending Alex on his kill. He was glad to see Merewyn appeared to have recovered from her encounter and was exchanging pleasantries with Guy.

They were still eating when Alex looked up to see a man dressed in the king’s livery step into the hall and stride toward the dais.

“From the king,” the messenger said, bowing before the Earl of Talisand and thrusting the scroll toward him. His father accepted the parchment, broke the seal and quickly read the missive. Then he asked the man to hand it to Alex.

The message contained only one line:

You are summoned to Westminster for a meeting of the barons in a fortnight .

A scribe had no doubt written the message, for the king was unlettered, but it was signed with William’s mark. A date was scrawled below which, according to Alex’s figuring, left them ten days to reach London.

The messenger handed his father another scroll. “This, too, my lord.”

His father took it and read the second message but did not pass it to Alex. Instead, he proclaimed, “The king’s summons has come.” Turning to Alex’s mother, he asked, “Do you still wish to go, my love?”

“I do. ’Tis time I called upon your king.” Then glancing toward Merewyn, she said, “My student of the bow has never been to court. She will attend as well, as we have discussed.”

His father nodded, seemingly content with his wife’s plans. Mayhap he was pleased she would go. Alex knew his mother would never claim a Norman as her king but his father told him she had once entertained the Conqueror at Talisand for the sake of her husband’s honor and her brother’s life. Her willingness to go to court now and bow before William Rufus suggested age had softened her.

Alex looked across the table at Merewyn, studying her expression. What would it be like to be with her on the road for many days? There would be two other women on the journey, his mother and her maidservant, Nelda, and for that, he was glad. ’Twas best he and Merewyn would not be alone .

“Can you be ready to depart at dawn tomorrow?” Alex’s father asked his lady.

“Since I expected the summons, Maggie and Nelda have been readying the chests that will go with us. We need only one cart and it can be loaded this evening.”

Before Alex left the hall, Maugris came to speak to him. “Might I have a word?”

Alex drew the old one aside, wondering what vision he had seen now, hoping it was not a harbinger of doom. “Aye.”

“Honor is revealed in the face of temptation, my son, and courage in the face of fear. You have passed one trial but still face another. It is near, even at your door.”

With that, Maugris wished him a safe journey and abruptly turned and walked through the door to the bailey.

Alex stared after him, mystified.

***

Merewyn stifled a yawn and accepted the groom’s help mounting Ceinder. Unused to rising before dawn, she was still tired from the restless night before. Then, too, as she dressed, she and her bow had exchanged words about her decision to accompany Lady Serena to London. But in light of Maugris’ counsel, she ignored her bow’s scolding. London would be an adventure, one she eagerly anticipated.

Since they would be stopping in a village and then going on to Earl Hugh’s castle in Chester, Lady Serena had wanted her to wear a gown for the travel. Merewyn was so pleased to be included she did not complain of having to struggle with skirts and Nelda had been there to help with the laces.

The linen gown she chose, the color of rust, would bear up well under the dust of the road. On her head she wore a straw hat like many of the villeins did when working in the fields. Her dark green cloak was tied behind her, secured to her saddle with her bow and quiver full of arrows.

Alex dipped his head to her and his mother as he rode to the head of the column where he joined his father. The knights wore no mail and, because they did not ride to war, their destriers, even their squires, remained behind. Still, every man had his sword and a long knife at his belt.

The sun was rising on her left as Merewyn and Lady Serena fell in behind Alex and his father. Following the two women were Sir Geoffroi, Guy and Rory with several men-at-arms behind them. A male servant brought up the rear, driving the cart in which Nelda, Lady Serena’s maidservant, rode with the chests, tents and food stores.

Lady Emma, Sir Geoffroi’s wife, had not come with them. All knew the reason. After the Norman Conqueror’s devastation of her home in York, she would have nothing to do with the Conqueror’s son. Merewyn, too, had reservations. At Talisand, she had known Norman knights of noble character like Earl Renaud and Sir Geoffroi, but her own mother’s terrible fate had taught her many were not like them. She hoped never to meet a knight like the one who had sired her.

A few hours later, the sun beamed from the sky full of puffy white clouds that reminded Merewyn of the white roses growing wild near Talisand. They would miss the harvesting of crops that had just begun, but mayhap the harvest of spring grains would still be going on when they returned.

With no rain on the horizon, she settled into her saddle, looking forward to the day’s journey. The countryside opened before her, broad and green, with tree-covered hills in the distance. Her spirits lifted as they made their way south, following the old Roman road toward Chester. The huge gray stones placed there by the ancients a thousand years before still provided a wide path and marked the way. It was the same road she had traveled less than a year before when she had returned from Wales and the one Rhodri and Fia had led her along six years earlier when she had first gone with them.

But this time it would take her to places she had never seen.

She tried to imagine the wonders that lay in London. Even Chester would be new to her. When Rhodri had taken her to Wales, they had passed close to the city but he had not stopped there. No Welshman would be welcome in Chester. Ten years before, Gruffydd ap Cynan, who had only just been named the King of Gwynedd, had been captured by treachery and imprisoned by Earl Hugh, the Norman lord Rhodri called Hugh the Fat .

When her eyes were not on the countryside, they were on Alex, riding in front of her atop his great black horse. The two of them seemed a matched pair: long black manes, muscular bodies and power restrained by force of their will.

One day, Alex would take his father’s place as the Earl of Talisand and she would return to Wales to fight and mayhap die with the Welsh who had been so good to her. She did not shy from her fate but the longing for what could not be tore at her heart.

At midday, Alex turned in his saddle to look back at her just before his father called a halt to water the horses. Alex dismounted and came to help her down from her horse. She might have managed without him but it was a kind gesture since her skirts made dismounting awkward. “Thank you,” she said as she placed her hands on his shoulders trying to avoid his eyes. But when his powerful hands circled her waist, his heat invaded her body and she turned to meet his penetrating gray gaze. Then her feet were on the ground and he dropped his hands.

They walked their horses to the stream not far from the road. Merewyn removed her hat and wiped her brow. The shade and cooler air beneath the canopy of trees was welcome. They stayed long enough to eat some cheese and dried venison while sharing their thoughts on the countryside they had passed.

Just as she was finishing, she felt Alex’s dark eyes upon her. “Do you consider me peculiar, sir knight?” she asked, trying to make light of his unrelenting gaze.

“I find you fascinating. A beauty, aye, but a fierce one with your bow and that look in your eyes, more like a warrior’s than a woman’s.”

“I assure you I am a woman.” She had never considered herself a beauty, not like Bea, Guy’s sister, and she was not a warrior as the strongest of the Welsh were. “It has taken me much practice to become proficient as an archer.”

“I know of only one other woman who has done so.”

“Your lady mother?”

“Aye. Maggie told me that when my mother was your age, she hunted rabbits for Talisand’s kitchens.”

“An unusual pursuit for the daughter of a thegn. In my conversations with Lady Serena, I learned she first took up the bow for sport. Later, it came to mean much more to her, as it has for me.”

He looked at her expectantly, as if he thought she would say more, but she could not. She did not want him to know she had been a frightened girl when she’d asked Lady Serena to teach her archery. It was enough that he admired her skill and compared her to Talisand’s lady.

He tossed her one of his amused smiles. “And, like my mother, you have added to our stores of food.”

“The deer—”

“And the boar.”

“You make light of what was a harrowing experience,” she said, frowning.

“Just teasing you.” His slight smile confirmed his words. She supposed it was best to find some cause for laughter in the incident, although she would always shudder to recall how close she came to being speared on a boar’s tusks.

“I will never forget that you saved my life.”

He chuckled. “Given your inclination to danger, I expect there will be other opportunities.”

A call from Sir Geoffroi returned them to the road where they resumed their travel. That night, they stayed in the village of Wigan on the River Douglas where the local priest arranged lodging for them. Merewyn had no complaint, for the company was good and the rabbit stew they were served satisfied her hunger from the long day’s travel. And being with Alex made any place grand for she noticed little else but him.

The next day, they pressed on toward Chester.

’Twas a long, tiresome journey that finally brought them to the city that lay a stone’s throw from Wales. Merewyn knew of it from the many evenings she had spent around the hearth fire with Rhodri and Fia. It was the place the Normans had decimated. Then they built a great castle set against the ancient Roman walls, the place where the Earl of Chester lived, a Norman dreaded by the Welsh.

Merewyn looked from one side of the road to the other, trying to absorb all she was seeing. Her life had been spent in small towns and villages and here was a walled city. They passed cottages nestled closely together inside the city’s red stone walls. In the distance, next to the River Dee, she glimpsed a tower.

“That was once an old Saxon church,” said Lady Serena, “but a few years after Chester was securely in Norman hands, Peter, the Bishop of Lichfield, moved his see here. The old church was not good enough for him, so he tore it down and began a grand new one. The sandstone walls of the new tower were his creation.”

Merewyn eyed the jagged appearance of the building next to the tower. “It looks unfinished.”

“The bishop was still building the cathedral when he died six years ago. I am told work continues to this day. But the bells in the tower work well enough. You will hear them ringing out the hours from Matins to Compline.”

Talisand’s church lacked a bell tower but Father Bernard had asked one be installed so that he could call the faithful to prayer.

They rode on, the castle’s wooden tower looming high above where it sat upon a great motte. Around the motte on two sides flowed the River Dee. As they drew closer, the castle seemed to grow in size.

A brief conversation between Earl Renaud and the guard at the gate and they were allowed to enter the bailey.

The head groom and his stable boys took their horses.

Merewyn accepted Alex’s help and slipped from her saddle, his hands on her waist lingering long enough for her to find his masculine presence disturbing.

“You are all right?” he asked.

After so many hours in the saddle, her legs were sluggish and it took a moment for her to walk comfortably. “Aye, just a bit unsteady.”

Once she was walking with ease, she followed Alex to where her fellow travelers stood as a group in the bailey.

“I was here with the Conqueror nearly a score of years ago when he took this city,” remarked Sir Geoffroi “’Twas a terrible winter and a worse memory.”

“I have heard tales, awful things,” she said. “Was it as bad as they say?”

Sir Geoffroi regarded first Alex, then Rory and lastly, her. “The three of you were mere babes at the time and Guy had yet to be born.” Shaking his head, he continued, “As bad as they say? ’Twas worse. The Conqueror showed no mercy to the English. As he did in York, he killed many and ordered us to destroy the food stores and salt the land to assure there would be no support for a future rebellion. The people were starving.”

Talisand’s lord placed his arm across Sir Geoffroi’s shoulders and said to the others, “Geoff and Alain risked William’s wrath to help as many as they could reach a nearby abbey where there was food.”

“You did what was right,” said Lady Serena. Her words were met with nods from the men. Alex’s father squeezed his friend’s shoulder and then moved to stand next to his wife.

“I like to think so,” said Sir Geoffroi. Then raising his eyes to the timber castle, he added, “Chester was the last of England to be subjected to the Conqueror’s will and when it was done, William ordered the castle you see to be built.”

All of England knew the timber castles stood as symbols of the Normans’ power and authority and, in many instances, the Normans’ cruelty. Merewyn admired Sir Geoffroi for his courage to defy his king in order to help the people.

“Would that I had been with you and Sir Alain,” said Talisand’s lord.

“’Twas best you were not,” remarked Sir Geoffroi. “We could hide among so many knights, but the king’s wolf never could.”

“’Tis a time best forgotten,” offered Lady Serena.

Guy eyed his father, admiration in his expression. “Is it not strange to return here, Father?”

“Yea, it is,” admitted Sir Geoffroi. “I only hope this summer finds the land at peace with the Conqueror’s son.” Then, turning to Alex, “You fostered here and must know Earl Hugh well.”

“Aye,” said Alex. “Five years of my youth were spent here. But I have seen the earl many times since. He was with us in Normandy, though he joined William late in the fight.”

Merewyn had wondered about his time away. He must have seen much fighting and many deaths.

“Earl Hugh is a good knight and was respected by the Conqueror,” said the Lord of Talisand. “’Twas why I chose him to foster Alex.”

“I expect William will soon have Earl Hugh fighting the Welsh again,” ventured Alex.

Merewyn spoke the one truth she knew of the Lord of Chester. “The earl still holds the King of Gwynedd as his prisoner.”

Lady Serena nodded, her expression somber. “Rhodri told me of it many years ago.”

They ascended the stairs to the castle. At the door, Earl Hugh and his wife greeted them and introductions were made. Merewyn judged him to be in his fourth decade and his countess in her third.

Though he was attired in garments befitting a high-ranking lord, the earl still had the look of a warrior, his craggy face brown from the sun, his demeanor intense. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair cut in the shorter Norman style, like that of Earl Renaud and Sir Geoffroi. But unlike Talisand’s men, Earl Hugh had a large belly his cinnamon-colored tunic strained to cover.

The Lady of Chester must have been sharing her husband’s trencher, for her elegant pale gold gown did not conceal her plump figure. But, unlike the earl, Countess Ermentrude had a pleasant face and a warm smile, one that was very welcoming. Merewyn assumed her hair was brown from her brows for the woman’s headcloth entirely covered her hair. “Welcome to Chester,” she said and took Lady Serena’s arm, leading her into the castle. “It has been too long!”

Merewyn followed the two women as they spoke of their children. Behind her, the Earl of Chester inquired of Talisand’s lord, “I trust your journey was without mishap, Ren?”

“Yea, ’twas pleasant with fair skies, but long enough your hearth fire and some of Normandy’s wine will be most welcome.”

Earl Hugh laughed. “And a soft bed, no doubt. ’Tis been many years since we found sleeping on the ground an adventure.”

The earl welcomed Sir Geoffroi and the other men into the castle, beckoning them toward the hearth fire in the large hall.

Two rough-coated hounds came to greet the visitors. They were slightly smaller than the ones at Talisand but no less friendly. One hound trotted up to Alex and nuzzled his hand. “Remember me, do you?” Alex said, scratching the dog’s ears and patting his head. To Merewyn, the two seemed great friends.

Earl Hugh glanced at Alex, Rory and Guy, who had joined the other men around the fire, and said to Earl Renaud, “’Tis been but a short while since I was with these three in Normandy. I expect we will soon ride together with the king to deal with the Scots.”

Merewyn did not hear the response as her attention was drawn to the grandeur of the hall, larger than the one at Talisand that sat next to the manor. Light from torches and candles illuminated the intricate tapestries decorating the walls. The weavings were very large, making her wonder if they hid alcoves.

“This is your first visit to Chester,” stated the countess. “Do you like the tapestries?”

“Oh yea, they are wondrous.” Merewyn could not suppress the awe in her voice for the tapestries looked almost like paintings so intricate was the weaving. Light from the blazing fire and many candles made the figures depicted seem to come alive: the animals of the hunt raced through the woodlands and the ladies smiled at their gallant knights.

“The ones we have in Talisand’s old hall are small,” put in Lady Serena, “but the castle at Talisand has larger ones.”

In addition to the dais and trestle tables, there were small tables and benches scattered around the edges of the room in between the tapestries.

Since they were the earl’s only guests, Countess Ermentrude told Merewyn there was plenty of room and she would have her own chamber. Nelda would have a room in the servants’ quarters.

Serving women bustled into the hall, setting pitchers of wine and silver goblets on one of the long tables. Once the wine was poured, Earl Hugh lifted his wine in a toast, “To the health of the king!”

“To the king!” echoed the travelers and downed their wine. Even Lady Serena, who had no love for Norman kings, joined in.

It took Merewyn a few more gulps than the men to drink her portion, but she was glad she did as the potent red liquid lifted the weariness from her bones and warmed her blood. She watched Alex down his wine with great enthusiasm, exchanging barbs with Rory and Guy, but more than once he glanced to where she stood with Lady Serena and Lady Ermentrude. Each time, her heart hammered in her chest as their eyes met.

The two earls and Sir Geoffroi stood to one side, but close enough for Merewyn to hear them speak of the battles with the Welsh that had gained Earl Hugh and his cousin a good part of North East Wales. It horrified Merewyn to think Rhodri might be affected but, as she listened to the men speaking, she was comforted in the knowledge there had been no dire news out of Powys where Rhodri made his home.

A servant came to show the women to their chambers. Merewyn, together with Lady Serena and Nelda followed her to the floor above. Once inside her own chamber, Merewyn was pleased to see a fire in the brazier, candles on the table under the window and her chest of clothing at the foot of the bed. Opening the carved wooden box, she found the gowns Nelda had neatly folded. The dark-haired maidservant with fair skin, a round face and pleasant manner was a treasure. And she had been kind to help Merewyn when she was not her mistress. No wonder Lady Serena so valued Nelda.

While Merewyn waited for the hot water to arrive for her bath, she took out the gown she would wear this evening, an azure velvet that fitted her well. She would save the amethyst silk Lady Serena had given her to wear in London when she would meet the king.

She walked to the window and flung open the shutters, breathing in the cooler air of the evening. Just then she heard the bells of the church ring the hour of None. Looking past the motte and the River Dee, she glimpsed the peaceful village lying on the other side of the river. The cottages glowed with many hearth fires where she imagined the people were preparing their supper. She sighed, more content than she had been for a long while, for when Lady Serena had told Countess Ermentrude that Merewyn was her ward and the daughter of a close friend who had died, the countess had accepted the description without question.

Merewyn could only hope the shame of her birth did not follow her into the future.