Page 122 of The Champion

“Who is your mother, Alexander?” Rowena asked, forcing her voice to stay gentle and even in tone.

The boy looked up at the old woman.

“Tell her,” the old woman urged.

“Elizabeth of Cornwall.” His tone was as fearful as his eyes. “But they told me she died.”

Rowena couldn’t breathe. Aye, he did look like her friend. She could see Elizabeth’s features plainly now that he had spoken of her, but she saw nothing that marked him as the son of his father.

“What are they saying to you, lady?” one of the knights snapped as the crowd grew restless.

“No doubt they’re lies. I say we should kill them.”

Rowena frowned at the men around her. “Do you mind?” she said in Norman French, glaring at them all. “Can’t you see they are terrified?”

“And well they should be.”

“I say we string them up as a warning to others of their kind.”

Rowena straightened herself up. “You’ll have to go through me to do it.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

As one of the men moved forward, he was pulled suddenly backwards.

“Actually, ‘tis a problem,” Stryder said angrily. “To get to the lady, you must first defeat me.”

One of the knights spat on the ground. “Leave it to you to defend a Saracen dog.”

Stryder turned on the man with a glare so intense, Rowena felt a wave of fear from it. “Are you issuing a challenge?”

The knight, along with the others, quickly withdrew.

Rowena drew a ragged breath, grateful once more for Stryder’s interference.

He faced her, his features lightening instantly until he swept a puzzled look over the boy and old woman. “What are they doing here?”

“They are looking for the boy’s father.”

Stryder nodded, his gaze completely innocent. “Should I fetch him?”

“Nay, there is no need.”

“How so?” he asked with a frown. “Is his father dead?”

“Nay, Stryder.” She indicated the boy’s necklace. “His father is you.”

Sixteen

Stryder blinked, then blinked again as her words went through his mind and were rejected. “I beg your pardon?”

“See for yourself.” Rowena shook her hand that held a tiny medallion in it. “He wears your badge and they both claim the badge belongs to his father.”

Stryder stared at the two of them, his mind reeling. How could this be? He’d never fathered any child, never mind one who had an Arabian nurse.

“Do they speak Norman French?” he asked Rowena.

“Nay.”