Page 61 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
“I’m coming,” Alfred said darkly.
She took a step forward before he could move. “Wait. Let me come with you.”
The raised eyebrows demanded an explanation, but she wasn’t sure what to say to justify her decision. All she knew was that she could not stay here, waiting passively while events unfolded. Hearing William was condemned for murder had made her body liquid with shock. She had to do something, even if she was not quite sure what.
“Come,” Alfred said when it became clear she wouldn’t offer any explanation for her extraordinary demand.
She ran to get her hooded cloak from William’s room and followed the two men to the bailey. At this early hour, no one was about. Aside from the messenger’s horse and Alfred’sbay mare, the only other horse available was William’s stallion, Thunder. She knew the other horses, who mattered less to him, were stabled outside the palisade.
“Take this one,” Alfred said, saddling it with quick, efficient gestures. “We cannot afford to delay.”
She gulped, eyeing the enormous beast warily. Time was of the essence, but would she be able to remain seated on such a mount? She looked at Alfred, hoping he would offer to ride Thunder in her stead, but he was busy getting the horse ready and did not see her. Just then, the groom came running, flapping his hands in protest.
“What do you think you are doing? You cannot take him! Lord William does not let anyone ride his horse.” His grimace told her the rest of his sentence.Especially incompetent, savage females such as you.
“What is that man saying?” Alfred asked impatiently. He had vaulted atop his own horse and was now ready to go.
“He does not want me to take this horse. It is William’s stallion.”
“Be that as it may, Lord William isn’t here to protest.”
With an irritated shake of the head, Alfred jumped back down on the floor and unceremoniously lifted her onto the saddle. When the groom made to prevent him, he landed a neat punch on the side of his face, causing him to collapse like an empty sack of grain.
“He is right, though. William told me himself he did not want me to ride him.” Rowena gathered the reins nervously.
It was very high on Thunder’s back, even if he stood stock still. She remembered how he had snorted and stomped the ground when she’d first seen him at Old Sarum and could only marvel at the difference.
“I am sure Lord William will not forbid someone as determined to get to him as you are to ride his horse. Besides, ifhe was so particular about it, he would have taken him to go to Faldon, don’t you think?” Alfred said, hoisting himself up in the saddle once more. “Unless…”
They looked at each other. Unless he had not wished to be identified. If his purpose had been to kill someone, he would not have wanted to risk his big black stallion being seen and recognized in Ecberg’s stables.
“I am sure he did not kill him,” she said hurriedly. “There must be a good reason for his decision not to take Thunder. Besides, he intended to be back before nightfall yesterday. He did not mean to spend the evening away.”
“How do you know that?”
She bit her lip. “H-he told me.”
Alfred did not make any comment, though it was clear he guessed the reason for this particular promise. “We have wasted enough time already. Let’s go,” he instructed, setting off toward the gate. Once they were out in the open, he kicked his horse decisively, and Thunder leapt in pursuit.
Rowena hung on to the horse for dear life, grabbing the mane in an effort to stay balanced. To her surprise, though he ran like the wind, the stallion did not seem intent on shaking her off and after a while, she allowed herself to breathe more freely. Perhaps she would make it in one piece.
Soon, she got used to the pace and managed to sit up a little and relax. All she had to do was follow Alfred, which meant she did not have to worry about steering. Even so, relief washed through her when they reached the village of Faldon. Her legs were somewhat unsteady when she finally dismounted in front of Ecberg’s house.
“Please do not draw attention onto me, do not say who I am, or that I can speak the Norman tongue,” she instructed, placing the hood over her head to hide her features. “I will slip into the room as discreetly as I can.”
Alfred nodded his agreement and led her into the main hall.
“What is happening here?” he asked in his best commanding voice.
While the people started to explain the situation to him Rowena’s gaze darted around in search of William. A gasp almost escaped her when she saw him by the window, on his knees, his hands bound behind his back. Though he was the accused, no one seemed to think it necessary he should be included in the talks. His hazel eyes sent sparks when he recognized her, but he said nothing.
She maneuvered to place herself closer to him but, in an effort to remain inconspicuous, she did not speak to him. Fortunately, no one was paying any attention to her. All eyes were on Alfred, who expressed his anger at William’s treatment in the most vehement terms.
A dozen men were spread around the room but there was only one woman, apart from herself. Another Saxon, evidently. There was no mistaking her pale coloring and ginger hair. Rowena had never seen a woman wearing so many jewels. The effect could have been impressive, but somehow it just seemed gaudy.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Alfred repeated more forcefully. “Lord William is accused of murder, but how can we hear his explanations if we cannot speak to him? None of us here speaks his language.”
“I do,” the woman said, walking forward.
