Alec was an intellect, but there were those who were greater tacticians. He could joust and ride and combat with the very finest in England, as he had proven time and time again. But it was his swordsmanship that distinguished him from all the rest. Edward once said Gabriel himself had given Alec his divine gift, so talented with a broadsword that surely God himself was jealous of the skill. There was no man more known for his swordsmanship in Edward’s realm than Alec. He was The Legend. And he had given it all up.
Aye, Brian was disappointed, but only for Alec’s sake. The man could have been the greatest warrior England had ever seen. Alec’s fate was a sad, noble thing indeed.
“If I am to marry Lady Patton, and I have not yet said that I agree, I would see her first,” Alec finally said. “Give a grand party and invite her. I would look over the prospective mother of my heirs.”
Brian sighed irritably. “Alec, one does not look over a woman as one would a brood mare, to determine if she is good breeding stock. There is far more involved, lad. Bloodlines, heritage, family ties, disposition. All of these things contribute to a satisfactory marriage.”
“And money,” Alec’s eyes twinkled slightly, taunting his father. “You yourself have tried to convince me that I should marry Lady Patton simply because of the wealth of St. Cloven. And now you tell me that there is more to a marriage than that?”
Brian shrugged, cornered, and turned away. “Stop being so smart, Alec, I do not think I like it. You know very well what I am saying.”
Alec moved to a carved pine table and poured himself a full goblet of liquor. He took a healthy drink, looked at the cup as if to ponder the contents, and drank again. Brian watched him with a faint smile.
“St. Cloven Red Ale,” he informed his son. “You have tasted it on many occasions.”
Alec studied the red liquid. “And if I am lord of St. Cloven, I will not have to pay for it any longer. And neither shall you.”
“Ah, so you see? We will both be gaining much from this union,” his father encouraged firmly, still smiling. His mirth faded after a moment. “I do not want to force you into this, Alec. I want this to be a mutual agreement. This very well may be your last chance for a marriage into a decent family.”
Alec was still regarding his chalice, swirling the liquid absently. He was so very unreadable.
“I understand that perfectly,” he said softly. “And in faith, ’tis not that I do not wish to marry; certainly I want a wife and heirs at some point. But I have given the matter little thought. Your suggestion comes as somewhat of a surprise.”
Brian meandered over to his son, putting a gentle hand on his broad back. “All I will ask, then, is that you consider it. And do not take too long, for I promised Lady Peyton that I would present a prospective bridegroom before the end of the month.”
“You give me a mere two days to contemplate my future?” Alec lifted an eyebrow at his father. “Will you then give a party and invite my prospective wife?”
Brian threw up his hands. “If that is what it will take for you to make up your mind, by all means. I shall have the steward write the necessary missives and invite all of our local allies. We will make it a grand social event.”
Alec nodded, finishing off the ale. Brian moved back to his desk, contemplating the two contracts before him. Alec, meanwhile, poured himself a second cup of ale.
“There are two sisters, you know,” Brian said softly. “Peyton and her sister, Ivy. I must still find a husband for Ivy.”
Alec turned to his father, ale in hand. “Can I choose between the two? What if Ivy is the more desirable sister?”
“Then that is your misfortune. You will not inherit the keep if you marry the youngest sister.”
Alec grinned into his cup. “Can I have them both, then?”
Brian shot his son an exasperated look. “Enough, Alec. One woman will be quite sufficient.”
Brian turned to his contracts and Alec hung by the desk, enjoying the fine ale and pondering his apparent destiny. He glanced over at his father, who was seemingly lost in thought.
“Have you a husband in mind for the second sister?”
Brian snapped from his thoughts and picked up a quill. “I was thinking on Ali.”
Alec showed more emotion than Brian had seen in a long while; his eyes widened and his jaw hung slack. “Ali? Christ, he shall never agree to that. And what of Olphampa? Surely you must discuss it with his father first.”
“Ali’s welfare is my concern, as it has always been,” Brian replied steadily, turning to see his truly astonished son. “He must be wed, Alec. And since there is not a Nubian princess within ten thousand miles of Blackstone, an English princess will do quite nicely.”
Alec was shocked. Then, the shock evaporated into anger. “You know how women react to him. They look at Ali and see a man with black skin, a man who is unlike the conventional norm. Women have been very cruel to him and I forbid you to….”
“I know, I know,” Brian cut him off quietly but firmly. “But mayhap if I provide him with a substantial dowry, mayhap if I make him quite appealing financially to a prospective bride, she will be more willing to…. accept him, as it were.”
Alec’s face was like stone; hard and immobile. He had always been fiercely protective of Ali, ever since he had been old enough to realize that some people were not inclined to accept him as a human being. Ali was more a brother to him than his only surviving brother.
However, his father was correct. There were no black females available for marriage in England. In fact, outside of the Holy Land, Alec had never even seen a female with darker skin. It was only logical that Ali marry an English girl, someone he could feel affection for and bear him sons. A woman who could accept him for what he was, but the hope was unrealistic at best; Alec had never known a woman to approve of Ali’s color. Yet in spite of his difference, why should his dark friend be excluded from the normal rites of an English male?
