for alarm. He sank into his seat, his men following his lead.
The tray’s contents had splattered onto the rushes, and a pair of hunting dogs snarled over the mess. Matilde flushed as she shouted commands in English to the other servants to help clean up whatever the dogs left. The older woman scurried from the hall after a quick backward look at Alex. He could not shake the feeling the parting glance was a condemning one.
Drumming the table with his fingers, Alex turned to his comrades.
“The son forfeited any inheritance when he lifted his sword against us,” Hugh continued.
Jerome leaned in, amusement twinkling in the depth of his eyes. “And I hear the daughter is a beauty. But she may be too high-spirited for you, Alex.” Hugh and the others chuckled, the tension from a few moments ago now forgotten.
“She might be worth the trouble, if this castle is any indication. Lord Dumont must be getting on in years. You’ll not have a long wait, Alex,” Hugh said, a smug grin on his face.
“You’ll marry that minx Dumont and be comfortable for the rest of your life, and us along with you,” Jerome said.
Alex’s stomach tightened, uneasy at coveting what William had promised when too many things remained unresolved. He pushed at the meat on his trencher with the tip of his eating dagger, all too aware of the hostile looks darting toward the high table.
“Dumont will see the advantage in having a son-in-law of William’s choosing, I have no doubt,” Jerome said when Alex remained silent.
Hugh surveyed the room with ill-disguised contempt. “Bah, William is too considerate of these English dogs.”
“You forget Lord Dumont hails from Lisieux and was one of the Confessor’s men. Surely this meal is evidence of that much,” Jerome said.
Alex had to agree. In addition to plainer faire like hearty stews and meat pies marking English cooking, the meal included elaborately spiced and sauced dishes reminding Alex of the grand meals he had enjoyed growing up in his father’s hall in Normandy. Back when he could still stomach such feasts and his father’s hospitality.
Hugh shrugged. “Mongrel then, if the Norman is such an important part of English society.”
“William must tread lightly if he wants to remain king of this land. Allowing the nobility to marry their daughters off to Norman knights will ease the transition,” Jerome said between bites.
“And you must not forget there are many other men William will need to reward,” Alex said.
Hugh took a sip of the small beer they had been served. “I suppose we must be grateful to William for thinking of you for this holding.”
“Yes, but not everyone can claim to have saved William’s life during the battle,” Jerome said. “No doubt he found Alex worthy of this estate, wife or no.”
Alex shifted in his seat. He hoped for the same things they did, but hearing it spoken of so coldly… He was glad Matilde had not remained in the hall regardless of how much she would understand of their conversation. He shook his head. “The Dumonts may resent William’s heavy-handedness.”
He knew better than to assume the holding would be worth an unhappy marriage. His parents had taught him that much. However, William seemed convinced Lord Dumont would be receptive to the match. And Alex, having no prospects of his own as the third son of a Norman lord, was thankful his gamble in joining with William paid off, despite his misgivings about the marriage. Perhaps he would be pleasantly surprised in both Lord Dumont and his daughter.
“I do not want the possibility of my marriage spoken of again.” Alex waited until he heard the murmur of assent around him. “After all, we must still find them.”
Jerome gave him a wink. “I hope you’ll like what you find in the lady.”
“Keep watch on your tongue, Jerome.” Alex stabbed at a piece of venison and ate, while his men busied themselves with their trenchers.
The harsh murmurs of the Englishmen and women in the hall rose in volume. Then a handful of men left the tables and went outside. Alex looked at Jerome and directed his head toward the commotion. With a nod, Jerome excused himself to investigate.
Hugh looked up from his cup. “Probably nothing. The Englishmen are just tired of sharing a meal with their conquerors, no?”
Alex drained the rest of his beer and kept his eyes on the entrance of the hall.
In moments, Jerome returned to the high table. “They’re opening the gates!”
Alex jumped to his feet. He had given orders he be informed of all comings and goings, but had not expected much activity, given the snow that had begun shortly before they arrived at the Dumont castle.
Jerome led Alex out of the hall. Hugh and the rest of his men followed. The sentries stationed along the palisade walls shouted back and forth in guttural English. What had raised such a commotion? Perhaps the Dumonts had returned. Alex looked at the bewildered faces of Hugh and the rest of his men, before turning to the opening gates.
“It’s a wonder the English can even see in all this.”
Alex ignored Hugh’s grumble and peered past the gates. Through the falling snow he could just make out a horse heading toward them at a gallop. Pulling up sharply, a disheveled woman slid out of the saddle and shrieked out orders in English. Members of the Dumont household scurried about in response. Leaning heavily against the horse, she called out again. He didn’t understand the words but recognized the urgency behind them.
Underneath her cloak, the girl wore a padded leather tunic over a woolen dress. She had a sword and a small knife strapped to her waist, and an empty quiver rested on her back. Another sword was fastened to the saddle. What would a mere girl be doing with such an arsenal?
Her eyelids fluttered when she found the blood that saturated her clothing and seeped onto her hand from her injured shoulder. She swayed, and Alex hastened his steps toward her. When she finally looked up at him, surprise and disappointment stained her features.
She shook her head as his arms closed around her. “No...” Her voice had lost all its frantic energy from before.
The sentries cried out again as more riders, leading a handful of empty mounts, streamed into the bailey. The girl pushed him away, but her feeble efforts drained whatever strength she had left and she collapsed against him. He disentangled her from the horse’s reins and took extra care to ensure he did not aggravate the broken arrow lodged in her shoulder as he picked her up.
He stared at the men standing around him. “Who is this girl, and why have you admitted her?” he said, voice raised above their murmurs.
No one moved.
3
The air was thick with blood, sweat and horse. Alex clenched his teeth and tried to think of another way to communicate with Dumont’s men.
Matilde ran out of the castle. The gray-haired knight from the walls kept pace by her side. The Englishman seemed to be very skilled at making opportune appearances. That warranted further investigation, but it would have to wait, as Matilde came over to him, her gaze locked
