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“Yes, Si—” Brecc caught himself. Barely. “Very well, Crosdon.” Though he could see the wisdom behind it, the king’s newest command was going to be especially difficult to obey.

“Knock again,” the king said. “The man cannot ignore us much longer.”

Brecc fisted his hand and pounded a third time. If the innkeeper would only rouse himself, this rural inn promised to be an ideal location for their needs. It appeared large enough that it would likely possess spare tack in the stables for their horses but was located in a town small enough that the Vikings hunting for the king of Wessex would ignore it.

From somewhere nearby, a dog barked. A second took up a similar baying.

“It appears that we have woken the animals in town, even if the residents are yet in their beds,” Brecc said grimly.

“Someone will come to our aid.” The king was adamant. “Again, Brecc.”

Brecc raised his arm, but just as he lowered it to knock for a fourth time, a bolt thudded back, and the door flew open.

“Enough!” A burly man with a scraggly beard growled the words even as the blade in his hand glinted in the moonlight. “Who are ya that ya’d make such a din in the middle o’ the night? D’ya have no common decency?”

Beside Brecc, King Alfred stiffened. Doubtless, he had never before been spoken to in such a manner.

“I beg your pardon,” Brecc said, attempting to buy the king time to adjust to his new role. “I am the one guilty of knocking on your door at this unearthly hour. But I would have you take it as a tribute to your well-positioned and inviting establishment.”

“A tribute?” The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “’Ave ya been in yer cups, man?”

“I have not. And neither has my companion. We are the victims of a senseless attack that lost us our saddles and bridles, and we come seeking replacements.”

The innkeeper picked up the candlestick he’d set on a table just inside the door and raised it so he could see the two bareback horses more clearly. “If what ya say is true, ya should ’ave been poundin’ upon the doors o’ the tanner an’ blacksmith rather than an innkeeper.”

“If time were our ally, we would most certainly stay at your fine establishment whilst waiting for the local tanner and blacksmith to provide us with the items we need.” The king spoke for the first time. “As it is,” he continued, seemingly unaware that his decision to take a pseudonym had done nothing to erase his royal bearing, “we must be on our way again before daylight.”

The innkeeper shifted his candle again, this time to more clearly view the king. The gold thread on King Alfred’s purple tunic caught the light, and the innkeeper shifted his gaze to Brecc’s clothing. “Yer noblemen,” he said. “Those ’oo usually travel with the king, I daresay.”

“We are,” Brecc responded.

The innkeeper’s jaw twitched, and the look in his eyes changed from irritated to calculating. “D’ya ’ave coins enough fer the saddles yer wantin’?”

“We are willing to barter,” the king said.

“With what?”

The king raised an eyebrow. “Unless I am mistaken, I believe you took a moment just now to admire our tunics. We are willing to offer you our finely spun woolen attire in exchange for plain linen clothing and two bridles.”

“An’ the saddles?”

King Alfred pulled a gold ring from his finger. The red gemstone at its center sparkled in the candlelight. “A gold-and-ruby ring for two saddles, two cloaks, and sufficient food to feed my companion and me for three days.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened, but he set down the candle and folded his arms. “Nobles or not, I don’ do business with strangers. ’Specially those ’oo don’ give me their names.”

“Ealdormen Crosdon and Edlin,” Brecc said, assuming his father’s name and giving the man King Alfred’s new designation.

“Ealdorman Crosdon and Ealdorman Edlin,” the innkeeper repeated. “An’ where d’ya hail from?”

There was no point in dissembling. The fellow had already guessed that they were members of the royal entourage, and most locals would know the king and his followers had gathered in Chippenham to celebrate Twelfth Night. “We travel a great deal,” Brecc said, “but most recently, we are come from Chippenham.”

The skepticism in the innkeeper’s eyes lessened. The truth had served them well. “I ’eard the king an’ ’is party was there this week.”

Brecc did not look at King Alfred. “You heard aright. And I believe the king will be most appreciative of any assistance you might offer his men.”

The innkeeper stood a little taller. “’E’ll ’ear of me ’elpin’ ya out, then?”

“Most assuredly.”