A Dark Champion

by Kinley MacGregor

  Never mind tell an innocent child tales of their boyhood together.

  "And your mother?" Stryder asked. "Why didn't you live with her?"

  He looked up at the old woman.

  "She was taken from him, milord, as soon as he was weaned," the old woman answered. "He doesn't remember her."

  "And his uncle?"

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. "He was taken away three years ago under protest. We know not what happened to him."

  Stryder's stomach lurched as he thought of Damien with the child. They must have been kept together for quite some time for a child so young to remember so much of what Damien had said.

  "And what of the boy?" Stryder asked the woman. "Where has he been kept?"

  "In a guarded orphanage with other boys his age. So long as his mother obeyed her masters, they promised her he wouldn't be harmed. Word was sent that she had died and I was told to bring him home to his father."

  That made even less sense. "Told by whom?"

  "Servants don't ask questions, milord. We only do as we are told."

  Stryder apologized, then looked back at his "son."

  "What is your name, child?"

  "Alexander."

  He smiled gently and held his hand out to the boy. "I am Stryder of Blackmoor, little Alexander. Your father."

  The boy looked as stunned as Stryder had felt when he had heard the same.

  Alexander's eyes teared brightly. "Are you truly my father, the great English knight?"

  "Aye, lad. Forever and always."

  The boy launched himself into his arms with a happy yelp.

  Rowena felt her own eyes start to tear as she watched Stryder and the boy embrace. There for a moment, she had almost feared that Stryder would deny him, but she should have known better.

  He would never be so cold to a child.

  The old woman started away from them.

  "Wait," Stryder said, rising with the boy cradled in his arms. Even though Stryder was large, the boy was still too big to be held. His long skinny arms and legs were wrapped tight around Stryder as he laid his little head on Stryder's shoulder and kept his eyes closed tight.

  "What is your name?" Stryder asked the woman.

  "Fatima."

  He inclined his head to her. "Thank you, Fatima, for bringing my son to me."

  She nodded, then started to leave again.

  "Fatima?" Stryder called after her. "Will you not stay with us and help Alexander adjust to his new home?"

  "I must return. My master will be very upset if I don't."

  Stryder set the boy back on his feet. "Do you have family to return to?"

  "Nay. My son died as a child and my husband not long after. I have worked for my master at the orphanage ever since."

  "Then stay," he insisted, "and help Alexander. I will send money to your master to pay for your freedom."

  The old woman wept at those words. "You would free me, a useless old woman?"

  Stryder gave her a chiding glance. "You're not useless, Fatima. You traveled a long way to bring my son to me. I think Alexander would like to have a familiar face around, is that not right, Alexander?"

  Alexander nodded fanatically. "I love Nana," he said. "She tickles me when I'm good and tells me lots of stories."

  Stryder held his hand out to the old woman. "Stay with us, please."

  Fatima didn't touch him, but she did bow.

  "Nay," Stryder said, helping her up. "No more bowing except when you pray. You're a freewoman now."

  Fatima's lips trembled as she took Alexander's hand into hers. "Your uncle was right, little one. Your father is a good man."

  Rowena stepped back out of their way as Stryder led them toward his tent. She followed along behind them as Alexander skipped along, asking questions.

  "Do you live here all the time, Father? Or do the English travel like the nomads? Will I be a knight like you when I grow up? Nana said I was a freeman, but I don't know what that means. She said my father, or you that is, would tell me one day. Will I finally get to ride a horse? We rode on a boat to come here. It was expensive and we couldn't eat anything but flat bread and water. If we were good at home and did our chores, they would let us have milk. Will you let me have milk when I'm good too?"

  Stryder laughed at the child and his incessant questions. "I should let you have milk even when you're bad."

  "Really?" Alexander looked triumphantly at Fatima. "Did you hear that, Nana? I can have it when I'm bad too."

  "I hear, scamp. We shall see."

  Stryder showed them his tent. Alexander ran around and inspected every bit of it.

  "A sword!" he shouted as he found Stryder's arming chest.

  Stryder rushed to take it from him. "Careful, child. 'Tis very sharp."

  Alexander bounded around then, pretending he held a sword of his own as he battled imaginary knights, dragons, and monster scorpions.

  Rowena watched Alexander "battle" with laughter in her heart. "You must have had your hands full with him," she said to Fatima.

  "Aye, he even fell overboard the day we started our journey."

  Alexander paused in his play. "The sailors were very angry that they had to save me," Alexander said seriously. "They said they would feed me to the sharks if I fell again, so I was very careful not to slip and fall."

  Swan came into the tent, then froze as he caught sight of Stryder scooping Alexander up and tossing him over his shoulder.

  "What is that doing here?" he said, indicating Alexander.

  "That happens to be my son, Alexander," Stryder said hotly. "And I pray you show him proper respect."

  Swan looked horrified. "Nay, nay, nay, this cannot be. First 'tis bad enough that Rowena shows herself here every time I glance away, but now this? Tell him Simon is his father and send him to Scotland."

  Stryder was aghast at his knight and when he spoke, he was careful to use Norman French so that Fatima and Alexander wouldn't understand him. "Simon has children aplenty already. The boy believes me to be his father, Swan. His mother is dead and I won't denounce him."

  When Stryder's gaze met Rowena's she understood why. She remembered the look he'd had on his face when he had told her about his own father denouncing him. The bitter pain that had been evident even after all these years.

  He would never hurt a child the way his father had hurt him.

  Swan threw his hands up. "Fine. But have you given thought as to what we're going to do with a child in our travels? How are we to ferret out the Scorpion while the boy trails along after us babbling and doing all those annoying things children do? And what of the people out to kill you, Stryder? Now they have another target."

  Rowena watched as the color faded from Stryder's cheeks. He reached out and placed his hand on Alexander's shoulder as the full weight of that settled on him.

  Neither of them had given thought of that.

  "I can take him to live with me in Sussex," Rowena offered. "I owe that much to Elizabeth."

  "And if you marry?" Stryder asked her. "What will your husband say?"

  She scoffed. "I will not marry, I've told you that."

  "If Henry decrees otherwise?"

  Rowena opened her mouth, but was cut off by Swan. "Don't even propose that the two of you wed. Think for a moment, Stryder. Again I say to you, if you leave a son and wife in England while we are abroad, they are living pawns. Anyone who wants control over you merely has to capture them."

  "I have guards," Rowena said.

  Swan gave her a droll stare. "As did Henry, and yet Sin MacAllister was able to crawl unseen into Henry's tent when Sin was only a boy and lay a knife to the king's throat. We are not dealing with incompetent fools here. Our enemies are highly trained and cannot be seen until 'tis too late."

  "Is something wrong, Father?" Alexander asked as he looked back and forth between Stryder and Swan.

  "Nay, child." Stryder looked back at Swan. "Take the boy and his nurse. See them fed fully while I think this over."


  "Yea, Stryder. You think about this carefully. We are not men as others. How many times have you warned all of us that we aren't able to have families because of the burden we carry?"

  Swan gentled his face as he looked at the boy. "Alexander?" he said in Arabic.

  The boy looked at him suspiciously.

  Swan held his hand out to him. "I am one of Lord Stryder's men, and you may call me Swan. Come and I will see that you and your nurse have food to eat."

  The joy leaped back into Alexander's face. Taking Swan's hand, he let the knight lead him from the tent with Fatima following after them.

  As soon as they were gone, Stryder raked his hands through his hair. His face tired, he looked at Rowena and offered her a half-hearted smile. "Good morning, milady. I never even got the chance to say that to you."

  She walked into his arms and laid a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Good morning."

  Stryder wrapped Rowena in his arms and let her presence soothe him for a few seconds while he thought over what he should do.

  "Why does life have to be so difficult?" he asked. "I look at other men such as your uncle and they seem to be able to live their lives at ease without such conflicts."

  "All is not as it appears, Stryder. You don't see the inside of my uncle's heart to know how hard his life has been. Unlike you, he is the youngest son of my mother's family. 'Tis why he was chosen to be my guardian. He will never inherit his own land nor mine, even though he has been a good lord to my people and vassal to Henry. 'Tis why he has never married. Instead, he has had to stand aside and watch the woman he loves marry a lord because that man was landed while he could offer her nothing. I am sure he must resent me at times for having been born an heiress, yet he never shows it."

  "How could anyone resent you?"

  She squeezed him at the kind question.

  He sighed and released her. "What should I do, Rowena?"

  It amazed her that he even asked her opinion. How unlike any man to care what a woman thought about anything. It was why she loved him so much.

  Marry me, the voice in her head whispered.

  But that was something she wouldn't say out loud, especially since she had been the one who refused his suit.

  "I know not, Stryder. However, I am quite certain that you will do whatever is right for everyone involved."

  "You say that with much more conviction than I feel. I have been wrong so many times…"

  "But you have been right more times than not."

  He shook his head. "I wish I shared your faith in me."

  She placed her hand on his shoulder and kissed his biceps. "Have no fear, Stryder. Things will turn out as God intends them."

  Rowena released him and stepped back. "I shall leave you alone to think. Should you need me, I shall be in the kitchens making sure Swan is feeding Alexander—and I don't mean to a wild boar."

  Stryder gave a half laugh at her jest. Of course, with Swan one was never certain if he would actually do the outrageous or not.

  He watched Rowena leave his tent while his mind whirled.

  "What should I do?" he breathed.

  Stryder's quest for an answer to that question led him straight to Damien's door. He strode toward it with raw determination.

  "Halt!" one of the two guards flanking it said as he drew near.

  Stryder ignored them.

  They started to grab him only to find themselves flat on their backs as he moved them aside and swung open the portal.

  Damien looked up in startled surprise.

  But it was Stryder who was shocked most as he came face to face with Damien, who wasn't masked or robed. His old friend sat on a padded chair, flanked by two robed Arab physicians as one of them took a cup from Damien's hands.

  Damien's hair was still the same golden blond shade, but unlike the days of their boyhood when he had kept it cut short, Damien wore it long and braided down his back. His amber and green hazel-colored eyes glowed with unmitigated rage.

  Stryder couldn't breathe as he saw the black tattoos that had been placed upon Damien's cheeks. One below each eye, they ran parallel to the man's cheekbones. Stryder had no idea what they said, but it was obvious they were words and not symbols.

  If not for those marks, Damien's face would have been flawless in its beauty.

  "How dare you!" Damien snarled, coming to his feet. He rushed to a table on the other side of the room where he seized a golden mask and held it up to shield his face from Stryder. The mask was an exact duplication of what Damien's face would have looked like had it not been damaged by his captors.

  The physicians started toward Damien, but he pushed them away. "Leave me!" Damien snapped.

  The guards came forward to take Stryder, who quickly shrugged off their hands.

  "I want to talk to you," Stryder snarled, "and I won't leave here until I do."

  Damien stood, glaring at him as he tied the mask to his face. With a furious jerk of his head, he indicated to his guards and physicians to leave them alone.

  They did so reluctantly.

  Stryder continued to watch Damien as he waited for them to close the door and leave them in peace.

  Dressed in a scarlet surcoat and hose, Damien still wore gloves even though he was indoors. For once the prince didn't bother to reach for his cape as he closed some of the distance between them.

  "Whatever you have to say, you'd best make it quick," Damien said in a low, gravelly tone.

  Stryder went straight to the heart of the matter. "Why did you send Alexander to me?"

  Damien pulled up short at the name, then his features went blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Who is Alexander?"

  "You know who he is, Damien," he said between clenched teeth. "Don't play your games with me or with that child. So help me, if you do, I will see you in the ground regardless of the consequences to myself."

  He had a strange feeling that his words somehow pleased Damien.

  Damien moved to stand behind a chair, with his hand on the high, ornate back of it. When he spoke, his tone was low, almost as if he was afraid someone would overhear them. "So you will protect him?"

  If he didn't know better, Stryder would almost swear he heard hope in Damien's voice.

  "Are you planning on using him against me?"

  Damien laughed coldly. Ironically. "Nay. I will not."

  "Do you swear it?"

  Damien smiled. "Even if I did, would you believe me?"

  Nay, he wouldn't. How could he when Damien had already confessed to the fact he hated him?

  "Why did you tell him I was his father?"

  Damien looked away and took his time answering that question. "I didn't know what to tell him when he asked me. So I tried to think of someone he should admire and strive to be." Damien locked gazes with him and the hatred there was searing. "The only person I could think of who was honorable was you."

  Stryder truly didn't understand the man's reasoning or his unwarranted hatred. "And you hate me because of that?"

  "I hate you for many reasons."

  "Yet you send me a child to raise?"

  Damien tightened his grip on the chair. "I will see you duly compensated for all his expenses."

  "I don't want your money, Damien. Nor do I need it. I only want you to leave the boy alone and not toy with his emotions or his mind."

  "Have no fear there. I will stay completely out of his life. Tell him his uncle died. It's all he needs know."

  Stryder nodded. "I just have one last question."

  "And that is?"

  "How much do I send to Fatima's master to buy her freedom?"

  Damien cocked his head.

  "It's how I knew it was you, Damien. Besides the medallion the boy carried, there was also the matter of his appearance here from Outremer. It would take someone very important to get the two of them to England without harm. You should be more careful."

  Damien didn't acknowledge his warning in the least. "Why are you keeping Fatima?"

  "
Because Alexander loves her and he needs someone around him he knows. You of all men must understand what it feels like to be a stranger in a foreign land where no one understands you when you speak and you have nothing but strangers around you."

  A muscle worked in Damien's jaw as he looked away. "I will take care of her master."

  Stryder nodded, then turned to leave.

  "Wait."

  Stryder watched as Damien left him and went to his bedchamber. A few moments later, he came back with a carved wooden knight the size of a man's palm and handed it to Stryder.

  "Tell Alexander that Edward has missed him."

  Stryder frowned at the toy and Damien's vague message.

  This time when he turned to leave, Damien grabbed his arm fiercely and held him in place. "Don't raise him to be the fool I was, Stryder. You make him grow up to be a decent man."

  Damien released him and strode back to his bedroom without another glance in his direction.

  The double doors echoed ominously before Stryder heard them lock.

  Now that was an interesting encounter…

  Stryder still didn't know why Damien had sent Alexander to him nor why it was so important to him that Stryder keep the child and raise him.

  Sighing over the oddness of it all, he left the room and made his way to the kitchens.

  Rowena stood off to the side while Swan played with Alexander. For a man who said he wanted nothing to do with children, it hadn't taken him long to become friendly with the boy.

  "All right, Alexander," he said as Alexander held up two celery stalks. "Here comes the fireball from the trebuchet." Swan held an extra large raddish in his hand, spinning it as it fell toward the celery stalks and Swan made noises simulating fire and flying arrow sounds. Not to mention the sound of men crying out for help from the falling radish, or rather "fireball."

  Alexander laughed as Swan knocked the celery stalks over.

  "Oh my head," Swan said, picking one celery stalk up and trotting it over the tabletop like a man limping. "It's on fire! Ow, ow, ow!"

  Alexander laughed harder.

  Rowena exchanged a horrified look with Fatima, who sat beside Alexander, finishing off her bowl of leek-pea porridge.

  Stryder came in and Swan immediately put down the celery stalk and sat up straight.