King’s Knight (Medieval Warriors #4)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Alex shared a glance with Merewyn, who rode across from him, resisting the urge to pull her into his lap. They had departed London the next morning before Terce, taking the same route back to Talisand they had coming south.

In the days that followed, Alex was able to share only a few whispers with Merewyn. It was grand torture to be so close to her and yet unable to touch her, except to help her from her pony. At times, he worried his friends, if not his parents and Sir Geoffroi, would sense the new closeness between them and see his gaze drifting often to Merewyn. He did not want the others to know of his intentions concerning her, not yet.

The storms held off making their stop in Shrewsbury pleasant. This time, it was his younger brother, Roger, who lost a game of chess to Merewyn. Alex had watched the game, exchanging occasional, heat-filled looks with Merewyn. That she had been able to keep her mind on the game so as to beat his brother amazed him.

It was a weary group of travelers that rode into the bailey a sennight later. Alex was pleased to be home. He and his men would have only a few days before they would have to leave to meet the king in Durham and he meant to share them with Merewyn when he was not in the practice yard.

Maggie came to meet them as they entered the hall. “My lady, my lord, there is food and drink should ye be wanting it.” His parents thanked her and headed for the tables.

Alex turned to Merewyn. “Will you have a drink of ale?” The road had been dusty and his throat was as dry as dirt.

Merewyn looked down at her rust-colored gown, covered in dust. “Ale would be good but what I need is a bath.”

He leaned in to whisper. “Would that I could join you.”

She blushed and darted a look at the others. “’Tis most unseemly to say so.”

“Aye, I suppose it is.”

By the time the weary travelers had drunk their ale and wine and Alex and his companions had hied off to the river to bathe, the afternoon was fair gone. On his way back, he stopped in the stable with Rory and Guy to check on their horses.

As he entered Azor’s stall, the stallion was nibbling on oats while the young groom combed briars from his tail.

Alex stroked Azor’s neck. “See anything I need to attend?”

The groom stood, one hand on Azor’s buttock. “Nay, except he needs a new shoe. I’ll see the blacksmith fits him tomorrow.”

“And the destrier?” The horse Alex kept for battle was fierce in a fight but too difficult to manage for long rides over the countryside. But he would have his squire bring him to Durham.

“Your squire has seen to him while you were away. The destrier was restless this morning, so I turned him out for a bit of exercise, but you might want to run him through a few paces before you go.”

“Aye, I have been remiss,” admitted Alex. Unlike Azor, the destrier needed constant training in order to respond in battle to his commands using changing leg pressure. “Tomorrow, I will wear my spurs and bring Rory and Guy. Their warhorses also need the practice. My squire can assist with some distractions.”

“Some screeching chickens and straw bales for the horses to jump over are readily available. ’Tis sure your brother, Tibby, will be there to add his shrieks.”

Alex laughed. “Just like a battlefield, aye.” He patted Azor and thanked the groom.

In the hall, his mother and Merewyn were sitting by the hearth, a bench between them covered with a stack of materials. “Heads bent to stitchery?” he inquired as he strode toward them.

Merewyn’s head popped up and she rolled her eyes. “Look closer, Sir Alex. ’Tis not stitchery, but a fletcher’s work we are about.”

His mother smiled but kept working and did not look up as she carefully fitted part of a feather into the shaft.

“Gray goose feathers?”

“Have I ever used anything else?” his mother asked, finally raising her head. “’Tis not the first time you have seen me fit a feather into an arrow shaft.”

“Have you ever considered using the peacock’s feathers?”

“I have used them,” Merewyn said. “Sets my arrows apart in a contest.”

“A bit bright for me,” his mother said, “but Merewyn had need of new arrows so we are making some using the feathers I prefer.”

Merewyn kept glancing at his mother’s actions, appearing to copy her in the distinctive way she had of placing the feathers.

“Alex,” Merewyn said, “can you hold the shaft for me? It keeps slipping.”

He took a seat next to her on the bench and reached out his hands. “What do I do?”

“Here,” she said, offering the shaft. “Just hold it in the middle while I attach the feather.”

He held the shaft still while she worked at the end, biting her lip as she tried to do what his mother had done. He could not take his eyes off her lips. Her delicate scent of flowers wafted to his nostrils and he had to fight the sudden urge to kiss her.

“I have never been very good at this,” she said. “Rhodri taught me to make them, but the fletchings he made were always better than mine, more like Lady Serena’s. ’Tis why I brought a supply of them from Wales.”

“In time, you will be an expert, like my mother,” Alex encouraged. “Like many things, it just takes practice.” He smiled and she blushed. He was certain she had discerned the kind of practice he had in mind.

“My son speaks the truth,” his mother said, setting down her finished arrow. “And it takes patience. I did not have much when I was your age. That, too, comes with time. ”

“There!” Merewyn said with a look of satisfaction as she took the shaft from him and held it up. “’Tis done!”

“The best one all afternoon,” his mother remarked.

Alex liked that Merewyn took pride in small things, laboring to get something right she cared about, even if it was an archer’s arrow and not embroidery. But for his mother’s presence, he would have reached out and pulled her into his arms. Ah well, he would see to that this night.

***

Merewyn had just hung her gown on the peg and was about to blow out the candle when there was a soft knock on her chamber door. Wearing only her undertunic, she set down the candle and went to open the door, peeking around the oaken panel.

“Alex!” She opened the door. As he entered, she looked behind him. “Did anyone see you?” she whispered, closing the door.

“Nay, I waited till all was quiet. I could not stand another moment without holding you. Come here.” He held out his arms and she went to him eagerly.

His muscled arms closed around her like a safe haven. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Oh, Alex.” She wanted to ask what would become of them but she already knew the answer. Hoping for another was not wise. It was enough to have this part of him for as long as she might.

He turned her face up to meet his lips and with one kiss, swept her mind clean of its many concerns. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the bed where he laid her down and crawled in beside her. “Come to me, my passionate archer. I have so much to teach you. Remember, it takes practice.”

“I was sure this is what you had in mind when you teased me as I sat with your mother.”

“You were right.”

When he said such things, and he often did, she asked no more of him than he was willing to give. “Then teach me, my love,” she whispered .

And he did, the night becoming sweeter than she could have imagined.

***

The next day, Alex and his father were standing in the bailey when in through the gate rode the comte de Vermandois with his daughter, Lady Adèle, with their attendants and several men-at-arms.

Alex watched as the new arrivals dismounted. Both the nobleman and his daughter were attired as if they were still at court, but dust now covered Adèle’s dark green gown.

“ Bonjour , Ren” said the comte, extending his hand to Alex’s father. “ Veuillez pardonner notre arrivée inattendue .”

Talisand’s lord accepted the comte’s hand with a welcoming smile as the Talisand grooms took their horses away. “You are welcome, Herbert, whether expected or not, but I must tell you we speak English at Talisand. I trust ’twill not be an inconvenience?”

“ Ah, bon ,” said the comte. “We speak the English tongue. Again, please forgive our abrupt appearance.” The comte glanced at his daughter. “’Twas the king’s wish. William sent us north in all haste shortly after you departed, so that my daughter and your son might have some time to get acquainted before Sir Alex rides to meet William in Durham.”

Lady Adèle smiled at Alex. He was certain his face bore a scowl, though he managed to say, “Welcome, my lady,” and bow over her hand when offered. William had mentioned naught of this to him at the meeting of the barons. Had the king planned it all along or was this Ranulf’s suggestion?

Alex remembered the comte de Vermandois from the evening at court. His face, like Alex’s father’s, was lined from years in the sun. Both his mustache and short beard were brown, but Herbert’s small eyes were blue and his hair, extending only to his nape, was nearly silver. Except when he smiled at Alex’s father, the comte’s appearance was stern.

“A visit by an old friend is always welcome,” his father said to the comte. “Have you met my son, Sir Alex?”

“I have, in London, when he returned Adèle to me after a dance. Your father and I were young knights together. I was there in Maine when Earl Renaud gained the name ‘the Red Wolf’.”

Alex offered his arm to Adèle and suggested their visitors join them for some refreshment after their journey. It felt odd having a woman on his arm who was not Merewyn but he supposed he could play the gracious host for his king. Still, he could not help but wonder, had Adèle’s father wanted to travel so far north? Or had the comte chafed at William’s command? Some few years ago, the nobleman’s allegiance would have been to Duke Robert, but with the signing of the Caen treaty, his lands were now controlled by England’s king. Some Norman nobles welcomed the change, for Robert was never a strong leader, but some did not.

Once in the hall, Maggie had servants bring their guests wine, bread and cheese and then sent for Alex’s mother.

When she arrived, the Lady of Talisand welcomed their guests and spoke of their lodging. “The castle is quite spacious,” she said to the comte, “but if you prefer to avoid the steps, we can provide chambers in the manor, that is if Adèle is willing to share with our ward, Merewyn. Lady Adèle’s maidservant can room with mine. Nelda is very accommodating. Alex’s younger brother can move into his chamber, which would free a chamber for you and your manservant. Your men are welcome to lodge in the castle’s great hall or with our men-at-arms.”

“We wish no inconvenience,” said the comte. “The manor will be fine and my men can lodge with yours.” Alex did not miss Adèle’s tight-lipped smile at her father’s words. Did she resent having to share a chamber with his father’s ward, a commoner?

Alex cared not if Tibby joined him in his chamber, but he was none too sure ’twas a good idea for Merewyn to share a chamber with Adèle, particularly since Merewyn was not of the Norman woman’s class.

***

Merewyn had just finished her bath and was dressing for the evening meal when Nelda hurried into her chamber, her expression anxious.

“Mistress,” she said, breathless, “visitors have arrived from London.”

Taken aback, Merewyn sputtered, “Who?”

“’Tis the comte de Vermandois and his daughter. Lady Serena has made arrangements for the daughter to share your chamber.”

“Oh,” Merewyn said, turning to show her laces to the maidservant. “Can you help me with these?”

Nelda pulled the laces tight as Merewyn pondered this latest news. “Why are they here? Do you know?” Merewyn remembered the dark beauty from London, the woman the king intended for Alex. Was there to be a betrothal?

“I only caught a bit of their conversation. ’Twas the king who sent them.”

The king . Merewyn’s heart sunk. So it was to be a betrothal after all. Her laces now tied, Nelda came around to stand in front of her. “Oh, mistress, the woman is here for Sir Alex, I am sure.”

Nelda must have observed her affection for Talisand’s heir, but Merewyn did not ask what more she knew. Most of the young women had a tendre for Alex and mayhap Nelda was among them and disliked another woman coming to visit him, especially one who was noble born. “Well,” said Merewyn, speaking the truth, “there is little we can do about that.”

“But mistress—” Nelda began as if in protest.

Merewyn held up a hand, stiffening her resolve and ignoring the pain that suddenly gripped her heart. “We must make Lady Adèle feel welcome.” Looking around her chamber, Merewyn said, “She can have the large bed and I will take the small one.”

“But that is your bed, mistress.”

“Surely it will be for only a short while,” Merewyn assured the concerned maidservant. “I do not mind.” Truth be told, Merewyn did mind, not that she had to share the chamber, but that the woman who would claim Alex had come to Talisand, invading the one place Merewyn believed was hers alone to share with him. Mayhap they would have less time together than she had thought.

***

Alex had never felt so uncomfortable sitting on the dais with his parents and their guests. The meal that evening was bound to be awkward. Lady Adèle sat on his left next to her father. On his right were his parents and then Maugris, Sir Geoffroi and Lady Emma. As soon as he sat down, his gaze reached out to the trestle tables where Merewyn ate next to Lora and Jamie. Across from her sat Rory and Guy. Their faces, when lifted to Alex, were marked by curious stares. He had not had time to tell them of William’s sly move in sending the comte and his daughter north to Talisand.

His father stood to introduce their guests. Goblets were raised in welcome. Alex drank heartily, but seeing Rory attempting to charm Merewyn, his mood darkened.

“The salmon is very good,” remarked Adèle, running her tongue over her bottom lip, a gesture he was certain was meant for him. She was younger than Merewyn but seemed older, wiser in the ways of the world. Her teasing, sensual gestures were familiar to Alex, having known other women at William’s court much like her.

“Do you hunt, my lady?” he asked her.

“With the men?” she asked, aghast. When he nodded, she shook her head. “Never. A lady would not do so.” Alex refrained from telling her his lady mother had once hunted game for Talisand’s kitchens.

“Might you play chess?”

“A bit,” she said, “but I am not proficient like my father. Do you play?”

“Aye, I do. ’Tis a game knights learn in the evening when a candle’s light is available.”

She took a drink of her wine, licked the last drops from her bottom lip and smiled. “We could play… together this eve. There are many candles in your father’s hall.”

He supposed it was expected of him to entertain her, but he much preferred to play chess with Merewyn. Still, he would do what was required of him. Thus, at the end of the meal, when there was music and games of chess organized, he led Adèle to the trestle table where the games would be played.

His father sat opposite the comte, just setting up their board. Next to them, Sir Geoffroi smiled across a board at his wife, Lady Emma, known to be an intelligent chess player.

Unable to resist, Alex’s eyes often drifted to Merewyn, who sat talking with his friends a short distance away.

“That woman,” said Adèle, “the fair-haired one I met in London, she is your father’s ward, non ?”

“Aye. Ranulf introduced you to Merewyn at William’s court. You will be sharing her chamber.”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “She was not there when I went to the room. Is it true what they say, that she hunts with the men?”

“Aye, she does,” he said, resisting the smile forming on his lips.

Her hazel eyes widened. “I had heard she went to the king’s hunt disguised as your page, but I could not believe it. ’Tis hardly the action of a lady.”

Alex laughed. “Some of the women of Talisand tend to be unusual in that way.” He did not mention his mother was one of them.

“Does she also play chess?”

“Yea and well.” Where was the woman going with this? “Many women play chess.”

She gave Merewyn a perusing look, her eyes narrowing slightly.

He set up the board and they began to play. In between moves, he stole glances to where Rory was now playing against Merewyn. The knight was enjoying himself, a bit too much to Alex’s mind. His red-haired companion was fair good at chess and the two were having a rousing game. Not so with he and Lady Adèle, whose awkward moves were ensuring their game would be over soon.

Adèle’s gaze followed his to where the other two were now playing a second game, Merewyn having won the first. Alex chuckled to hear Rory sighing deeply.

Alex’s game with Adèle continued. Mercifully, he finished it, uttering the word “Checkmate.” The comte’s daughter did not seem at all disappointed. “Come,” he said offering his hand, “I will introduce you to my friends.”

They moved down the table and joined Rory and Merewyn. Guy, sitting nearby, expressed his desire to play against Merewyn since her game with Rory was just ending.

“See if you can do better,” Rory said to Guy. “She has twice checked my king. ’Tis enough victory for her at my expense.”

Merewyn smiled encouragingly. “You put up a valiant fight, Sir Rory. ”

“Valiance alone is not enough to win a fight against an opponent with foresight and strategy,” he answered.

“I thank you for the compliment,” said Merewyn, winking at the redhead. “You lose with good grace.”

A servant refilled their goblets as Guy set up the board for his game with Merewyn.

“Want to play, Alex?” asked Rory.

“Do you mind?” Alex asked Adèle.

“ Non . I will watch.”

Alex took a seat next to Guy across the table from Rory. Lady Adèle sat next to Merewyn, which seemed odd to Alex. What was the young Norman woman thinking? Did she sense the admiration in his voice when he spoke of Merewyn hunting with the men?

While Rory contemplated his next move, Alex’s gaze drifted to the game next to him. Intent upon the board before her, Merewyn reached for her goblet.

Maugris, who was just passing the table, leaned in to speak to her, accidentally knocking the wine from her hand. The liquid splashed onto the board. Merewyn brushed the few drops from her gown that had reached that far. Guy dabbed the wine from the board.

“Please forgive me,” said the seer, lifting the goblet, now empty.

“No matter,” said Merewyn. “There is more wine and you did no harm.”

“Allow me to pour you another,” offered Maugris. He lifted the nearby pitcher and filled Merewyn’s goblet.

“’Tis kind of you, Maugris, but I think I have had enough for tonight.”

The speaking glance the wise one gave Alex suggested his knocking the goblet from Merewyn’s hand had been no accident. Why would he intentionally spill the wine and want Alex to know he had done so?

He would not… unless the wine was… poisoned.

With Alex’s mind on Maugris’ “accident”, he managed to lose his game to Rory.

“Finally, I have defeated you, Alex!” Rory beamed from across the table.

“Aye, you have, and well played. My congratulations. ”

Merewyn fingered the stem of her goblet, looked up and smiled at Alex, then bent her head to the game before her. Guy was playing well tonight.

When Maugris left the hall, Alex made his excuses to Adèle and followed after the seer.

There was no one in the bailey and the guards at the gate were far enough away they could not hear them. “You did that a purpose,” he said to the old man.

“I did,” Maugris confessed, a gleam in his eyes reflecting the light spilling from the hall windows. “The young woman from Vermandois placed something into Merewyn’s goblet. Even now, I cannot be certain she would not do it again. She was quick. Best to watch her closely. She is aware your eyes are often on the fair archer.”

Alex let out a long breath. “You have my thanks, Maugris.”

“Go now,” the wise one urged. “Before the night is done, warn Merewyn not to take food or drink from Lady Adèle.”

***

Merewyn looked askance at Alex. “But why would she, a noblewoman, give me aught to eat or drink?” They stood in the bailey where he had led her when the games were over and Lady Adèle had gone to the bedchamber she would share with Merewyn. “’Twould be more likely I would serve her. She is our guest.” An unwanted one, but a guest nonetheless .

He pulled her into the shadows and kissed her on her forehead. “Do not doubt me, little one. Maugris warned me the woman means you ill.”

“Oh.”

“I must go, but promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise,” she said and watched him enter the manor. Above her, the stars glistened in the night sky. She decided to look in on Ceinder before seeking her bed. As she walked to the stables, she worried over her predicament. It was not good she was coming between Alex and his future. Mayhap it would be best if she returned to Wales when Alex left to meet the king. Already, she may have lingered too long, for she was becoming accustomed to seeing his face each day and sharing his kisses at night.

Ceinder was glad to see her, nickering softly at her approach. Before she left the stable, she looked in on Azor, thinking of his master.

She opened the door of her chamber to see Lady Adèle sitting on the edge of the large bed combing out her long dark tresses.

After greeting the young Norman woman, Merewyn began to remove her outer tunic, turning toward the wall as she did. Her body was slim, modest in feminine achievement, whereas Lady Adèle possessed an ample bosom. A man like Alex could not help but notice the difference with approval.

“How long have you known Sir Alex?” the woman asked.

“All my life,” Merewyn said without turning. “But he was away much and so was I. I have only recently returned to Talisand.”

“Your parents are here?”

To Merewyn, the questions were asked in a manner so as to sound hostile, as if she were being judged and found wanting. She answered in the shortest way she could. “Both are dead.”

“Were they both English? With your fair coloring, I would have—”

“Nay, only one, like Sir Alex.” Merewyn did not like where the woman’s inquiries were leading. She would not discuss her sire, especially not with one who meant her ill. Merewyn spared one glance for Lady Adèle and then blew out the candle on the small table next to her bed and slipped beneath the cover.

The room was still bathed in a faint flickering light, for another candle burned next to the larger bed where Adèle sat plaiting her hair.

Merewyn stared at the ceiling.

“I assume you know,” Lady Adèle said, “the king means for Sir Alex and me to wed.” The words sounded like a warning.

“Yea,” said Merewyn, her voice trembling. “I think all of Talisand knows that.” She turned her back to the woman and faced the wall, tears silently falling to her pillow.

***

Alex was just coming off the practice yard when Lady Adèle walked up to meet him. “Good day, my lady.”

“And to you, Sir Alex.” When he headed toward the palisade gate, she said, “I was hoping we might walk a bit.”

“Of course.” He gestured toward the river, but away from the village. He did not need his people to see him walking with the woman and wonder.

The waters of the River Lune were tranquil, only a few ducks leaving ripples in the water as they swam along.

“’Tis very peaceful here,” she said as they walked along the riverbank, “but not as beautiful, I think, as my father’s lands in Normandy.”

“I have seen Normandy on many occasions. Its rolling green hills and pasturelands are, indeed, beautiful to the eye, but England is my home and always will be.” He hoped he had put to rest the woman’s ambition concerning him, but the set of her jaw and her lips pressed tightly together spoke of her resolve to proceed.

“I suppose one could spend some part of the year here and the rest of it in Normandy,” she ventured.

“If one had a mind to do so, yea,” he said with indifference. How long would she talk around the real purpose of her seeking his company? He was certain it had not been in her mind to admire the beauty of harvest time in Talisand.

She stopped walking and turned to face him, her countenance no longer as sweetly pleasant as before. “Surely you must know, Sir Alex, William wants my father’s lands tied to a Norman noble who is loyal to England’s king. He means to see us wed and what the king wants, he will have.”

“Aye, my lady. William will certainly tie your father’s lands to a Norman loyal to him. But I would prefer that Norman not be me, for another lady holds my heart and Talisand will be my home forever.”

“Another lady ?” She emphasized the last word and anger welled up inside him for he knew her intention to slight Merewyn for her commoner status.

“Yea, a lady.” He would say no more. “I must take my leave of you now, for I have a meeting I must attend to.” He did not say the meeting was with his horses. Bowing, he left her frowning. So be it. He cared little if she was not smiling. He only hoped Merewyn remembered his caution based upon Maugris’ warning.

** *

Merewyn was gathering her new arrows with the gray feather fletchings when the door of her chamber opened. Lady Adèle entered, shutting the door behind her with a loud “thump”. On her otherwise lovely face was an angry frown.

“Is something wrong, my lady?”

“Indeed!” she exclaimed, eying Merewyn as if she were a piece of discarded clothing. Her manner was haughty and disdainful as she said, “Have you given Sir Alex the impression he has aught to say about the king’s intention to see us wed?”

Merewyn straightened from where she had been bent over the arrows, pausing to stare at the furious woman before her. “Whatever made you think I have done so? Nay, I have always encouraged Sir Alex to abide by the king’s wishes.”

“Well, it is best he do in this matter of our marriage or some ill may befall you both. When a king orders a wedding, a wedding there shall be!”

Tired of the woman’s ill-tempered speech, Merewyn asked, “Has the king ordered a wedding?”

With that, the woman turned on her heels and quit the chamber. Merewyn stood looking at the closed door. Sill angry, she remembered the woman’s threat of harm and trembled. Would she hurt Alex?

***

Days later, Alex stood with his parents by the open gate, watching as the guests from Normandy disappeared over the hill. The comte and his daughter had stayed for several days and were only now taking their leave. It was not soon enough for Alex.

“Well?” his father asked, “What say you to William’s choice?”

“He is scowling,” Alex’s mother put in. “I told you he would. Alex likes her not.”

“Herbert’s daughter is comely enough,” his father offered. “And her father is enthusiastic about the match and his lands in Vermandois are extensive.”

Alex’s scowl deepened. In his mind, he saw only the woman he had come to love: Merewyn racing through the forest on her white pony as she raised her bow to shoot; Merewyn smiling at him over the chessboard; Merewyn walking along Fish Street in London, laughing with his mother. “I would choose my own wife. And you are correct, Mother, ’twould not be Lady Adèle.”

“There, you see,” said his mother, giving his father a knowing look.

“A king’s knight does his sire’s bidding,” his father calmly reminded her.

His mother pursed her lips, but said nothing.

They began to walk back to the manor.

“What about Sir Geoffroi?” Alex asked, raising the one exception he knew of, a knight respected by his father for his defiance of the Conqueror. “He defied his king.”

His father’s brow furrowed. “I admit there are times when honor requires a man to take his own path. But is this a question of honor? You could be more than the heir of Talisand. You could have lands in Normandy and the favor of your king.”

The words Maugris had spoken came to him. Honor is revealed in the face of temptation. “It is a matter of honor to me.” He had claimed the woman he wanted and would do right by her. The temptation for more lands or a woman of noble birth would not lure him from his intended course.

His father shrugged. “Then it falls to you to find a way to appease your sire if you are one day to choose your own bride.”

They arrived at the door of the manor and his mother asked, “Do you go to the practice yard?”

“I have no choice. Our visitors took up my time when I should have been preparing the men to meet Malcolm’s warriors. I have heard the Scots are fierce and fight like wild men and there are but a few days to prepare before we must leave.”

“You distress your mother by such talk, Son.”

Indeed, his mother’s face was full of worry.

“Forgive me. I would not have you anxious for my sake. But I would have your prayers while I am gone.”

“You will have them,” his mother replied. “Father Bernard has agreed to say prayers each day for your return and a peaceful outcome. ”

He smiled at his mother and nodded to his father, then left them as he headed toward the armory where he was to meet Rory and Guy.

Ahead loomed William’s plans to deal with the Scots and after, Alex’s future with Merewyn. He must step carefully.

***

Merewyn retrieved her arrows from the target with the help of Cecily and her two companions. Behind the round disk, the leaves in the woods were rapidly changing color from summer’s green to September’s yellow, gold and crimson. Soon, Alex would leave for Durham.

Fighting back the tears that suddenly filled her eyes, she turned to her young shadows. “My practice is done for today.”

“Can I shoot, Merewyn?” pleaded Cecily. The redheaded vixen was adorable in the boy’s clothing she donned whenever she followed Merewyn to the archery field.

“Not unless we can shoot, too,” insisted Alex’s youngest brother, Tibby. “Else ’tis unfair.” There were times—and this was one of them—when the boy’s frown reminded her of Alex, making her smile.

“Me, too!” shouted Ancel. Only eight summers, Lora’s young brother had a head of brown curls that made him appear even younger. But somehow, he always managed to keep up with the other two.

“I will agree to this,” Merewyn said, looking into the three young faces staring back at her with eager anticipation. “First, each of you must gain the approval of your parents. If Father Bernard assures me you are doing your lessons, I will begin your training. At Sir Geoffroi’s manor, I have the bow I trained with.” She held up her bow. “’Tis smaller than this one. If your parents approve, you can use it and I will make you arrows with wooden tips until you are ready for metal-tipped ones. ’Twill serve for your lessons like the wooden swords the pages use in practice.”

The three grinned widely, nodding their heads. Cecily jumped up and down.

“But I will not begin your training without Lady Serena’s approval and only after Sir Alex and the men have gone to meet the king. There will still be archers at Talisand who can assist me with your training.”

The three ran off and Merewyn watched them, reminded of their youth. They had begged her all summer to teach them the way of the bow. Reluctant at first, she had finally decided that if their parents and Lady Serena agreed, she would do it. To help the children realize their dream of learning archery would bring her great pleasure. And she would need something to do after Alex was gone.

But she still thought about returning to Wales. It would make it easier for Alex if he did not have to face the choice of acting honorably toward her or obeying his king. To shun the marriage the king intended would gain Alex the wrath of his sovereign and the disdain of his people. She could not allow that to happen.

Another glimpse of the changing leaves convinced her the time was short if she were to teach the children before she had to travel to Wales.