Down in the great hall, servants were already bustling about preparing food for him to break his fast. William sat at the high table, enjoying a meal of bread, cheese, and ale brought by a timid new maid.
He was finishing a second cup of ale when his captain, Wymund, approached with a bow.
“The men are ready, my lord. Eighteen guards, as instructed.”
William wiped his mouth and left the cloth on the table. He’d dressed in his usual black tunic and hose for the journey.
“Let us be off then. I’m eager to procure horses worthy of the king’s stables and expand our own stables.” He met his captain’s grave gaze. “We will not tarry, not with sickness spreading across the land.”
Wymund leaned closer, lowering his voice. “The village priest is most displeased that your lady has not yet brought a priest to the chapel here. The old rumors are starting up again.”
“Father Michael does not care for my wife. She said the new priest is traveling here and should arrive within a day or so.” Lips pressed together, William clenched his jaw.
“Speak to the men. I want her guarded at all times.” He grimaced. “There are times Lucy is not careful with her words and actions.”
Knowing better than to smirk, his captain simply inclined his head. “It will be done.”
The two men strode from the hall and into the courtyard, where mounted knights awaited them as servants scurried about, efficiently filling saddlebags with supplies.
William clapped Albin on the back as the squire hurried to do his duty.
Then he swung astride the black palfrey, looking forward to the adventure, even as he wished to stay with his family. This horse had come from Silverwood Manor, where they were going, and was nearly fifteen hands high, with an even temperament.
“Shall we ride, my lord?” Wymund looked to him.
With a glance at the upper windows, he nodded. “The sooner we depart, the sooner we may return.”
The clatter of hooves on stone rang out as the cavalcade of armed men rode under the raised portcullis and over the drawbridge.
Once across, William turned for one last glimpse of his home. Blackford rose formidable and imposing from the clifftops, the stone walls smooth as glass. The old king had said even the devil could not breach them. William hoped he was right.
Their route took them east, following the shoreline. Gulls cried overhead, diving to pluck fish from the steel blue sea. The pungent smell of brine filled William’s nostrils.
As a child, he dreamed of the lands he would one day explore. Now a man grown, he had conquered foes from Scotland to France, winning riches and renown. Blackford was his and William would see it passed down to his son, along with the title.
By midmorning the sea gave way to patchwork fields and farming villages. Peasants looked up from their labors to bow as William and his knights thundered past.
Around noon, William called a halt by a shallow stream so the horses could drink and graze. The men ate hearty rye loaves of bread, which William preferred to the wheat bread he ate at home.
They had brought salted meat, fish, and cheese, along withdried fruit and plenty of ale and wine. At night they would stay at an inn and partake of the meals there, but during the day, ’twas easier and safer to stop and eat on the road.
They refilled their skins with water, preparing to ride on. One of the men called out as a lone woman driving a goat-drawn cart approached. William stood to greet her.
“God be with you, mistress.”
“And with you, my lord,” she replied, eyeing the men. “Best not to stop in the next village. Many have the pox.” She crossed herself.
William considered this news with a frown before turning to the men, who were busy packing up their gear.
“We sleep rough tonight, avoid the village.”
After wishing the woman safe travels, William mounted up, and they continued on until they found a place to make camp for the night, taking turns to watch for bandits.
The roads were muddy; the rain starting soon after they had stopped for the night, not letting up the entire way, adding almost a day to their travels.
On the morn of the third day, they came to York. The clip-clop of the hooves echoed off the buildings as they rode down narrow streets to an inn William had stayed in before.
After he secured accommodations for his men, they enjoyed a hearty supper. The innkeeper crossed himself and said the pox had already passed.
