Page 1 of One Knight
CHAPTER 1
England
1067 AD
It looked like an entire army approached as Elisande stared out the slit between the rough-hewn boards of the manor house. Her body froze as reality set in.
This might be the last thing I ever see.
She stared at the invading Norman forces. War horses, with mounted knights, charged toward the walls that seemed like paltry defenses to keep them out, especially with the absence of all her brother’s knights and soldiers. The Normans looked like giants, even from far away. Their silver armor glinted in the sunlight.
As soon as word of the Norman invasion had reached them, life as Elisande had known itchanged irrevocably. Her brother had grown even more unpredictable and cruel. The last thing she had expected was for him and every able-bodied warrior to desert the manor and leave her and Hilda to almost certain death.
But that couldn’t be helped now. Now, only God knew what their fates would be.
When Alger, a neighbor, had brought news of the knights traveling in their direction, she had known she had only one choice. Perhaps she had given him too much hope by asking the favor of him that she did, but Elisande had felt it necessary.
She prayed she lived long enough to deal with the consequences. As she turned away from the approaching battle-hardened knights, she knew there was only one thing she could do to try to save the lives of the people left behind.
Surrender.
A white flag rose as Sir Henry guided his destrier toward the wooden walls separating him and his knights and soldiers from the manor King William had ordered him to bring under Norman control. Baron Auldwyn had proven treacherous, and Henry was expecting exactly that from him again.
Surely, he has not surrendered without so much as a fight.
But the gates were open, and there wasn’t a single soldier visible.
Is it a trick? A trap?
Auldwyn wouldn’t be the first Saxon to surrender without a fight, but he also wouldn’t be the first to employ deception to kill as many Normans as possible.
Henry slowed and held up a hand to signal his men to do the same as they reached archery range, but he didn’t see a single arrow pointed in their direction.
It looks deserted.
They had expected Baron Auldwyn—whose knights were rumored to be fierce—to attack, especially since they had also heard that Auldwyn’s daughter was extraordinarily beautiful. But there seemed to be no resistance at all.
Something isn’t right.
But Henry didn’t know what it was. His gut said ride on, and his instincts had kept him alive when stakes were much more perilous than this.
“What do you say, Sir Henry?” Sir Geoffrey, one of his noble knights, asked from beside him. “Is it a trap?”
“My gut says no. What say you?”
“I wouldn’t trust a Saxon further than I could throw him, but … where is everyone?”
“Keep your wits about you. Be ready for anything, at any moment.”
Not a single soldier, archer, or knight appeared to defend the manor. Peasants and servants clustered around the walls, and not one held even so much as a pitchfork.
It can’t be this easy. Can it?
This holding was meant to be his. King William had told him to conquer and claim it. Marry the baron’s daughter if necessary to secure the holding. Henry had been a landless knight in Normandy, but his dreams and aspirations included a home of his own. A wife. Children. Lands. And now that they were taking England from the Saxons and King William had set this task before him, his dream was closer to becoming a reality than ever before.
Slowly, they rode into the courtyard. The peasants stared up at them, wide-eyed, from dirty faces. They didn’t look terrified. They looked … resigned.
“Welcome, my lord,” one man said as he stepped forward.
