Page 12 of King’s Knight

After that, Alex turned to his other side and spoke in low tones to his father about the king’s court and all he could expect to find there. “ ’Tis not like that on campaign,” Alex assured his father, “but in the king’s palace at Westminster, his favorites wear their hair longer than mine and mince about gowned and perfumed like women.”

“I do not look forward to that,” said his father, “and your lady mother, who has no love for Norman kings, will have yet another excuse not to like this one.”

Alex knew well his mother’s opinion of the Conqueror for he had heard her expound upon it numerous times. With William Rufus’ strange proclivities and his disdain for the church, she would like this Norman king even less.

Once the honeyed fruit tarts were served, conversation in the hall died as two minstrels in colorful robes of green, gold and scarlet approached the dais, carrying lyre and pipes. Candles flickered and the fire in the hearth slowly faded to embers as the minstrels’ music lifted enchanting sounds into the air.

When the gentle music ended, the tables were moved against the walls and more lively music replaced the soft sounds in anticipation of the dancing that would ensue.

Men began to choose partners for the dances. Rory jumped from his seat and headed straight for Guy’s sister, Bea. Guy, likely in an effort to get even, headed for Rory’s sister, the redheaded Alice. When Alex saw Jamie take Lora’s hand, leaving Merewyn alone, he quickly got to his feet and strode in her direction. He was of a mind to see if she danced as well as she was rumored to shoot her arrows.

* * *

Merewyn watched Alex crossing the hall to where she stood, oblivious to the eager looks from the women he passed. Her heart soared to think he would brave the disdain of others to seek her out for his partner. Mayhap he was not so arrogant as she had imagined.

When he bowed before her, offering his hand, she took it.

The shiver that snaked up her arm shocked her. It was the first time he had touched her so, the way a man touched a woman for whom he had affection. He was so much a man now, his strength revealed in his muscled shoulders and arms. She had promised herself she would stay away from him as she did the other knights and here she was partnering with him in a dance.

He led her to the large area where couples were forming squares. The group they joined set a fast pace keeping time with the music. Soon, she and Alex were matching the quick steps, laughing and smiling.

She was powerless against the joy she experienced being with him. If she allowed herself, she might imagine they were a couple, for they moved easily together as if it were not the first time they had partnered. She had learned to dance in Wales and savored the exhilaration of abandoning herself to the music.

And now it was Alex who held her hand.

After another dance, the room grew over-warm leaving her cheeks heated and her heart pounding. When the music came to a dramatic end, Alex lifted her high into the air, her hands on his shoulders. Caught up in the moment, she laughed as he set her down. But around them, she glimpsed frowns on the faces of some older women.

Alex must have noticed, for he pulled her toward the door that led to the bailey. “Walk with me, Merewyn.”

Flushed with wine and heated from the dance, escaping the disapproving looks into the cooler air lured her almost as much as the temptation to be alone with him. “Aye, very well.”

He guided her out the door but did not let go of her hand. She should not allow him to touch her in so familiar a manner, but she could not bring herself to take back her hand.

Above her, the moonless sky was filled with a radiant circle of stars, their brightness dazzling. “It matters not how many times I see the stars on a clear night,” she remarked, “I am always in awe.”

He joined her to stare up at the brilliant display of stars. “ ’Twas the same for me when I looked into the night sky over Normandy.”

She had often tried to imagine him in that land, worried her champion might be wounded or worse. As a squire, he had followed the knights to battle and later, as a knight, he confronted the swords of other men. He could have died; many did.

She peered at him out of the corner of her eye, admiring his strong profile set against the light from the windows of the hall. “Did you sleep outdoors in Normandy?”

“Some. The last months were often warm. We had tents, of course. But other times, some of us slept in the hall of one of the nobles in Normandy. William Rufus likes his comforts, even on campaign.”

They walked through the bailey. All was quiet save the guards at the gate tower who spoke a greeting to Alex before returning to gaze outward from the palisade.

Alex rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, sending little ripples of pleasure through her. She forced herself to keep her mind on their conversation. “What is he like, the king?”

“He is still unwed, unusual for a king in his third decade. And he is not much like his father, who, I am told, respected the church. But like his father, he is a worthy knight and can be fierce in battle. He can also be dangerous when confronted.” He laughed. “Like an angry bull.”

She tried to imagine the Conqueror’s son who had become king upon his father’s death, but she could not recall one good thing said about him in Wales.

“When he is not wearing mail,” Alex went on, “he favors luxurious clothing adorned with gold and jewels.”

She glanced at Alex’s dark blue wool tunic, now black in the moonlight, fitted to his lean muscled form. How much more elaborate was the king’s attire? “Is he a difficult king to serve?”

“Not on the battlefield. And he is generous when pleased.”

It seemed he might say more but he hesitated and then was silent. Was he brooding? Often, his dark looks could seem threatening. There was so much she did not know about Alexander the man.