With the collective strength of his men behind him, Alex took a steadying breath. Time to see what they faced. He removed his helmet—a sign of good faith—and hailed the sentries in French, the only language he knew. “On behalf of William, Duke of Normandy, defeater of Harold, I, Alexandre d’Évreux, request an audience with Lord Bernard Dumont.”
His voice faded, and only silence was his answer.
From behind his helmet’s nose guard, Jerome gave Alex a look.
Hugh exhaled noisily, his breath a white plume on the air. “Do you think they understand?”
Alex tucked his helmet under his arm and kept his eyes on the men on the walls. “We will find out.”
“We should have strapped that cleric to the pack horse, ill or no,” Jerome said. A cleric had been charged to accompany them to aid in translating their words into the barbaric English tongue, but a fever had taken him two days into their journey, and they had left him behind.
Snow clung to Alex’s hair as the minutes trickled by. His hand closed reflexively over the hilt of his sword. If they were not granted entry, Alex had few peaceful options to fall back on. He didn’t want to disappoint his liege, but if the Dumonts resisted, Alex would not have much choice.
His horse stamped impatiently. Alex had to agree. Time to change tactics. They would retreat a safe distance and decide their next steps.
He was ready to give the order when a new face appeared on the wall. A man with graying temples and the squared shoulders of a soldier. He gave Alex a long, inscrutable look, then gestured to the Englishman next to him.
The gates groaned, then slowly opened wide enough to admit horses and riders single-file.
Alex gritted his teeth. Would he and his men be picked off one by one as they entered the courtyard? He reminded himself their arrival had probably taken the Dumont household by surprise. Perhaps they were simply being cautious—as much as they could within the bounds of courtesy.
Before he forgot his courage, Alex tapped his horse’s sides with his heels. He passed into a strangely empty courtyard for a castle this size, offering up a silent prayer when no swords or arrows confronted him.
Small but stout, an old woman exited the hall and stood in the middle of the courtyard. He brought his mount up short. Her back was stiff, with fear or importance he did not know. He did not miss the keys she wore at her belt.
He nodded to her. “I am Alexandre d’Évreux, envoy for Duke William, soon to be the ruler of this land. You have heard such tidings?”
She finally nodded as Jerome and Hugh flanked him. “Welcome, sir.” Her words were a crude imitation of his language.
Household servants and a few soldiers filed into the courtyard, unarmed and grim-faced. Tense, curious, wary. Since they did not attack them when they had first arrived, Alex felt certain they would not interfere now. It was enough to know Lord Dumont had taught his household to respect his Norman countrymen, even if the man in question was not there to greet them.
“I seek Lord Dumont and his family,” he said to the woman.
Her brow pulled tight. In concentration or concern? “Pardon?” she asked.
“Lord Dumont. I would see him. At once.”
She shook her head, her simple linen headrail brushing her shoulders. “He is not here.”
“When will he return?”
“I know not.”
“What about the daughter? The son?”
She held up her hands. “You speak…too quickly.”
Forcing back a curse, he asked again, slowly forming each word.
She shook her head. “They are not here either. Come, you must be tired. A long journey, no?” Her offer of hospitality was unmistakable despite the poorly phrased words.
Jerome’s raised eyebrows matched Alex’s as he dismounted and let a stable boy lead his mount toward Lord Dumont’s stables.
Alex tipped his head to the servant and smiled. “My thanks to you. We have traveled many days and—”
A high-pitched whinny pierced the air.
“You filthy cur!”
Alex whirled around just as Hugh backhanded a different stable boy across the face, knocking him to the ground.
For one tense moment, silence blanketed the courtyard. Then instinct kicked in. Alex took two steps toward the boy. An arrow lodged into the packed dirt at his feet. He jerked to a stop, his gaze leaping to the walls. A dozen archers with arrows nocked.
His men raised their shields, their naked blades ready to taste blood as they circled around Alex.
They had come so far, and now this? He held up his hands. “Non! Stand down. Now!”
Dimly, he could make out an Englishman’s shouts along the walls. Then one archer relaxed his stance, followed by another.
Alex gave Jerome a stern look. He was the first to ease off, the rest of Alex’s men cautiously following.
He would see this fixed. Alex leveled a glare at Hugh and kept his hands raised. “Your pardon,” he called out.
Air aching in his lungs, he slowly approached the hapless stable boy, still sprawled across the ground. Alex helped him up, cursing the boy’s wild eyes and the red streak across his cheek.
He dusted him off and led him to the old servant who had not moved, nor dared to breathe he guessed, based on her white cheeks. “Good woman, please give him my apologies for my shield bearer’s conduct.”
Her gaze darted to Hugh and the men on the walls before stopping on Alex. She gave him an uncertain nod. The boy scurried to her side and they exchanged frantic whispers before he sprinted toward the stables.
However, that was only half the problem. Frowning, Alex turned back to Hugh.
He spat on the ground. “He startled my horse.”
Alex growled. All this over such a trifle? He grabbed two fistfuls of Hugh’s surcoat and shoved him back a few paces. Hugh’s heel caught on a half-frozen clod of dirt, and he fell back. Laughter sounded, but a harsh command silenced the Englishmen on the walls.
Alex loomed over him. “I care not what the stable boy did,” he said through his teeth. “I care only that you have single-handedly threatened our mission here.”
Hugh’s gaze fell. “I just reacted—”
“And nearly got us all killed.”
“It will not happen again.”
Alex battled back a fresh surge of embarrassment and anger. He took a deep breath. “Do not make me regret taking you into my service.”
Hugh swallowed and nodded.
Alex stood back as Hugh struggled to his feet. “You will see to our horses’ stabling personally since you are so concerned.”
He waited as Hugh slunk off to the stables before returning his attention to the Dumont servant. “Please accept my apology for this unfortunate misunderstanding.”
The woman gave him a jerky nod. “The boy was more scared than hurt.”
Perhaps all was not lost. Alex inclined his head. “It is kind of you to say so.”
She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”
As Alex followed her to the main hall, he threw a look over his shoulder. His gaze caught on the gray-haired knight still up on the walls. The Englishman stared after them, an unreadable look on his face.
Bloodshed had been prevented this day, true,