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 am 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.