Page 3 of One Knight
Henry was missing something, but Baldwin was likely correct. Perhaps he would get the full story from the Lady Elisande herself.
“Rolf, stay here with the men. Watch for treachery. Sayer, come with me.”
William wanted this stronghold under loyal control due to its key location. Henry knew thatmarrying into the family was the easiest way to gain and keep the loyalty of the servants and peasants who worked the land.
As the older man led him up the wooden stairs, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. It had been decidedly too easy so far, and Henry couldn’t help but feel that there was something unexpected coming.
“My lady,” the old man said as he knocked on a door.
“Enter, Baldwin.”
“I am not alone, my lady. I bring Sir Henry de Vere and his man with me.”
“I suspected no less, Baldwin. Thank you.”
Baldwin opened the door and nodded to Henry and Sayer. As Henry passed him, he whispered, “Please, sir. She’s a good woman.”
Henry met his brown eyes with a nod of his own. “I understand.” He glanced at Sayer. “Stay here by the door. Keep watch within and without.”
“Of course.”
Henry stepped inside the room, and the first thing he noticed was the woman standing by the slit in the wooden wall.
“Waiting for reinforcements?” he asked. “Or hoping for a rescue?”
“Hoping no one burns the hay barn actually.”
“No one plans to burn anything, my lady, unless you have such plans.”
She turned to face him. “I would no sooner cut off my own hand,” she replied with a haughty tone.
He scanned her as she studied him and his armor.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Oh, indeed,” Henry said, rather pleased with her countenance. Fair, blonde, and with the blush of a Saxon rose.
“You’re not old,” she said with surprise in her tone as her blonde eyebrows dived together.
“Did you expect an ancient man?” he asked.
“They said William and his knights were old and disfigured.”
Sayer huffed with laughter from the doorway. “Disfigured? Scars are honorable.”
“The Lady Elisande of Rosewyn Manor, I presume?”
She curtsied ever so briefly. “Welcome to my home. Thank you for not burning it down.”
“I am?—”
“Sir Henry de Vere. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Is that why you waved a flag of surrender?”
“I would like to think it was wisdom that led to the white flag on our wall. With no knights or warriors, only simple peasant farmers and servants left, you and your men would have slaughtered us.”
“Where are your knights, lady?”
