Siege of the Heart

Chapter 2 (part 2)

Bloodshed had been prevented this day, true, but Alex would need to watch his back.

* * * *

Alex set down his eating dagger and looked along the high table. Despite the difficulties earlier, his comrades seemed to be in good spirits, with food, wine, and revelry flowing. If only the rest of the dinner guests were so cheerful. Sharp looks were aimed his way whenever the Englishmen and women thought his attention elsewhere. Distrust imbued the air, as thick as the smoke curling up from the fire in the center of the room. What else could he expect?

“Alex.” Jerome put a hand on his arm.

“I am sorry,” Alex said. “I was not attending.”

“Non, I gathered not,” Jerome said with a grin. He followed Alex’s gaze over the main hall. “It is an excellent castle.”

The hall was soundly built, timber reinforced with stone. Horsemen on a hunt leapt across thick tapestries that kept out a great deal of winter’s chill. Fresh rushes graced the floor and crumbs of feasts past had been swept clear from the tables long before the start of the meal. A well-kept home, and goodly-sized. Alex had been given a room in the living quarters located over the hall, while household staff made use of rooms off the kitchens. And the nearby lodgings for Dumont’s men-at-arms were large enough to house the rest of Alex’s men.

He leaned back as a serving girl set a platter of venison on the table. “Merci,” he said, eyeing her closely.

The girl’s mouth fell open before she simply nodded and gave a short curtsy. He frowned as she backed away from the table and hurried off.

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you are disappointed she did not swoon at your attentions,” Jerome said with a laugh.

“Nothing of the sort. I was merely seeing if she recognized the word.”

“Matilde told us the staff only speak English. We’re lucky she knows as much French as she does.” Jerome pointed to the old woman who had greeted them in the courtyard, now bustling around the room, directing servants. “She said her father was a merchant of sorts, and she learned French as a child before coming to serve the Dumonts.”

“Yes, but is that not odd? I would think Lord Dumont would have retained a few French-speaking servants.”

Hugh looked up from his cup. Still chastened when he had returned from his duties in the stables, his shield bearer had been quiet for much of the meal. “Are you suggesting they are refusing to talk to us?”

Alex nodded. “I can understand their defiance, but it bodes ill for our presence in England.”

He glanced at all the strange faces taking the meal with them. Someone here had to know where the Dumonts could be found, but Matilde claimed she did not understand him when he had questioned her again before the meal. And now, the other servants and guests were keeping their distance from the high table where Alex and his men sat. He kept an eye out for the gray-haired knight, who had not yet made an appearance.

He rubbed his temples. “I am not sure how we will be able to find the Dumonts if they do not wish it.”

“Worry not about the son. There’s not much doubt he was at Hastings,” Jerome said.

“Ha,” Hugh said with a sneer. “He probably didn’t even survive the battle.”

A heavy clank momentarily drowned out the rambunctious voices filling the hall. Dread coiled tight in Alex’s chest. The English surrounded them on all sides—it didn’t matter the majority of the Dumont soldiers had most likely fallen serving in the English army. Alex and his men were still outnumbered. And after the confrontation in the courtyard earlier, he would take nothing for granted.