Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

S moke rising from burning buildings with the flash of steel in the sunlight gave Alden a momentary pause. Stepping over bodies strewn across the cobbled streets, and the shattered remnants of siege engines, he appraised his surroundings.

This street, and those around it, cleared.

For now.

He did not see any of his friends, but Alden did spy his commander up ahead. Running toward him, he asked Lord Stirling for his next command.

"I await Gloucester," he said. "Follow me."

Robert of Gloucester was Empress Matilda's half-brother and a key military commander. Alden had not seen him personally since they'd arrived in Winchester.

Breathing in air thick with blood, sweat, and burning wood, Alden followed. Their plan had been to clear all between the east gatehouse and the next fortified position, between narrow streets and abandoned dwellings. They inched closer to Winchester Castle, but Matilda's men had suffered heavy losses.

There were two fewer Guardians of the Sacred Oak than there had been in the morn as well, a fact that reminded Alden even the strongest and most skilled among them could be felled.

"Darien!" He watched as his friend pulled a sword from the man at his feet. So many dead. Around every turn, another of the king's supporters. It seemed to matter little that their commander was still captive. The royalists had mustered a larger force than their own, but as Lord Stirling said, in this type of battle, among the city's streets, the advantage of numbers was evened out. Their own force was well-trained.

"I saw the siege lines up ahead," Darien called to Stirling. "From atop that tower. They are not far from us."

Following their commander, gathering more of their men along the way, they regrouped, finally, the siege lines still holding strong.

"We rest here, and wait for orders," Stirling said. "Sharpen your weapons, regroup," he said, disappearing.

"Have you seen Gareth or Roland?" Darien asked him, cleaning blood from his sword.

"Nay, not since this morn. They should be there." He nodded to the hundreds of others ahead of them in the siege line that stretched from one end of the city to the other, as far as the eye could see.

"So many broke through," Darien said, looking back to the slain littering the streets.

"Too many," he agreed.

"Did you speak to him?"

Alden shook his head. "I cannot. What is a title among all of this?" He'd been foolish to consider it.

"If he does not know you wish it, Stirling cannot give you aid in this matter."

"Which matter?" the man they spoke of said, more gruff than usual. "Your friends are there." Stirling pointed to a spot in the distance beside what appeared to be an abandoned bakery.

"I see them." Darien raised a hand.

Relief, knowing his friends were safe, the shock of the battle still fresh, Alden forgot of what he spoke. Naught else mattered. They were alive.

For now.

"Which matter?" Stirling asked again. "Damn fool," he muttered before waiting for a response. Alden and Darien exchanged a glance, not knowing whom he spoke of.

"Not you." Stirling's displeasure was evident. "We will lose this city if Gloucester allows more alleyways to become killing zones as he did today. Which matter?" he asked again, this time, his tone near angry.

It was not at all the time to discuss Alden's aspirations.

"Naught," he began as Gareth and Roland, covered in blood but appearing well, the blood seemingly not their own, walked toward them.

"Alden wishes to be knighted. You saw the way he fought this day," Darien said.

The others caught up to them.

"There is none more loyal," Gareth added, apparently having heard Darien.

"Not now," Alden attempted to cut into the conversation, Stirling looking none too pleased.

"He has never refused a challenge," Roland added. "Obeys authority. Is both prudent and temperate."

Alden frowned. That last was not always true.

Stirling placed his hands on his hips.

"Refrains from giving offense," Darien said quickly.

"Would never turn his back upon a foe," Gareth added.

One by one, his friends continued until Stirling lifted up his hand.

"What of respecting the honor of women?" Stirling asked that question directly of Alden.

He knew.

Somehow, Stirling knew of him and Elara.

Alden's chin rose. "I will not give praise to myself," he said.

Stirling paused. "See that you honor her well." He unsheathed his sword.

Her. Elara.

Perhaps they'd misjudged the man.

"I would hear another vow from you, that of our order," he said.

Alden would gladly give the Guardians' vow, but he was too surprised to say anything at all. What was happening? They were surrounded by injured men. In the midst of battle. Surely, he could not mean...

"Alden," Gareth prompted. "Our vow."

By now, a crowd began to gather. Some of their own, others of Matilda's forces. If he said the vow aloud, would they not wonder...

"Alden." Darien was more insistent than Gareth had been.

He immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"I vow to honor my brethren with steadfast loyalty, to protect the people of the realm with my life, to love my homeland above all others, and not to allow the base desires of men to taint my sacred charge."

Hoping there was a bit of margin in that last bit, he kept his head bowed.

"By the power vested in me by our noble cause and the crown." Stirling's sword rested on his left shoulder. "I hereby dub thee, Sir Alden." It moved to his right shoulder. "Rise, a knight of the realm, and let thy courage and honor be thy guiding stars. Serve with valor and uphold the virtues of knighthood. Stand tall, for thou art now one of the chosen defenders of our land."

Removing his sword, Stirling moved back.

Alden had no time to fully take in what had just happened. It was only the applause around him, Stirling's smile—something Alden had very rarely seen on the stern swordsman—and his friends' slaps on the shoulder and congratulations that brought him to the full realization.

He was a knight of the realm.

Alden pulled his sword from its sheath just enough to peek at the fleur-de-lis there. Remembering.

You are a blacksmith, not a knight.

He pushed it back, bowed to Lord Stirling and thanked him.

"No man deserves it more. But I must find Gloucester. Sir Alden," he said in parting before walking away.

Sir Alden.

The crowd began to disperse. "He knighted me as if it were nothing more than sheathing his sword."

"It may seem a simple thing," Gareth said as his friends circled him. "But it is not. He'd never have even considered it if you did not deserve the honor. Which you did."

"Sir Alden." Darien looked as if he were about to say something profound.

They waited.

"You are covered in blood and smell like a boar's arse."

They all laughed. A moment of brevity despite knowing what still awaited them. Alden had not seen the field of King Stephen's supporters but had heard rumors of them. They were severely outnumbered.

"I could say the same of you."

"Come." Gareth pointed to the nearby chapel. "Let us see the field beyond."

The men climbed to the top of the crumbling tower of St. Swithun's Church. From their vantage point, they saw the narrow streets of the city, dominated by the spires of Winchester Cathedral. Smoke rose from various parts, darkening the sky and filling the air with the acrid smell of burning wood.

Siege lines and camps stretched across the fields in one direction and wound into the city streets below them. Tents and makeshift fortifications dotted the landscape, guarded bridges over the River Itchen, and banners fluttered in the breeze.

Winchester was now a battleground.

"Knighted but...will we return to Blackwood from this?" He had the least experience in battle of the four.

That no one answered was not the response Alden hoped for.

"There are too many of them. It matters not," Roland said, "how skilled we may be."

"Winchester is lost."

All three men looked at Darien as if he'd gone mad. He shrugged. "I would retreat."

"They will not be as cautious," Gareth predicted. "If the empress loses the city, after being run out of London..."

He did not finish. There was no need.

If she lost Winchester now, her bid to become queen, despite the fact that the empress held sway in much of Southern England, outside of London, would be stalled. But the evidence of their impending defeat lay before them.

Alden had gained much this day, but he was set to lose much, much more.