The Champion by Chadwick Elizabeth

Author:Chadwick, Elizabeth [Chadwick, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Chick-Lit, Historical
ISBN: 0751538698
Publisher: St Martins Pr
Published: 1997-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

THE WELSH MARCHES, AUTUMN 1197

The first bitter wind of autumn hurled stinging drops of rain into Alexander’s face and buffeted him in the saddle. Head down, tail streaming between his hind legs, Samson ploughed into the growing storm. When they had started out from Thornbury that morning, the weather had been merely brisk – an invigorating breeze chasing patchy cloud across a pale blue sky, and chopping across the waters of the Severn estuary. Now, at dusk, all blue had been swallowed to black, and the breeze had become a wind that was now threatening to turn into a gale. It roared through the trees on either side of the road like a wild beast, tearing battalions of dying leaves from the branches and scattering them wantonly abroad.

It had crossed Alexander’s mind to stop and make a shelter among the trees, but after a brief deliberation, he had decided to press on to Chepstow. Even if he arrived after dark, he would be assured a decent meal and a place to sleep by the fire. Chepstow was part of William Marshal’s domain, and Alexander had messages from the earl to his castellan. Lord William had given Alexander the task of courier in the late summer, and Chepstow was only one of the places on his itinerary. There had been the rich southern manors of Caversham and Oxon, basking in the last of the harvest sunshine. From there he had ridden to the dower lands of the Marshal’s mother-in-law at Weston to deliver family letters to the Countess Eve, and after a brief sojourn to rest himself and Samson, had made his way west to Bristol, and across the Severn towards Chepstow. From there he was bound for Usk and Pembroke, then back to the Marshal in Normandy.

Alexander’s life in the Marshal household was varied, never dull, and filled from dawn to dusk with tasks and demands. A workhorse himself, unable to sit still, Lord William required the same of his knights. If Alexander was not performing escort duties, providing protection, or riding as a messenger, then he was occupied with quill and vellum, acting as an extra scribe in the Marshal’s busy administration. Even in his supposed leisure time, Alexander was in demand to play and sing his music, or the Marshal’s small sons would want to be given rides on Samson’s back and attack him with their wooden swords and shields. The days were not long enough. Alexander glanced at the darkling sky and pulled a face. Not long enough at all.

And yet, even in the act of grimacing, cold, wet and hungry as he was, Alexander had never been so content in his life. He had purposes and goals, worthy ones that bore the fruit of Marshal’s approval, and gave him pride in tasks well done. At two and twenty, the roads he had travelled, both physically and mentally, set him at a far distance from the frightened, defiant boy who had absconded over a monastery wall.

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