One Knight Chapter 1 Sneak Peek!
One Knight is the first-ever historical romance from New York Times bestselling author Meghan March.
One Knight
Chapter 1
England
1067 AD
It looked like an entire army approached as Elisande stared out the slit between the rough-hewn boards of the manor house. Her body froze as reality set in.
This might be the last thing I ever see.
She stared at the invading Norman forces. War horses, with mounted knights, charged toward the walls that seemed like paltry defenses to keep them out, especially with the absence of all her brother’s knights and soldiers. The Normans looked like giants, even from far away. Their silver armor glinted in the sunlight.
As soon as word of the Norman invasion had reached them, life as Elisande had known it changed irrevocably. Her brother had grown even more unpredictable and cruel. The last thing she had expected was for him and every able-bodied warrior to desert the manor and leave her and Hilda to almost certain death.
But that couldn’t be helped now. Now, only God knew what their fates would be.
When Alger, a neighbor, had brought news of the knights traveling in their direction, she had known she had only one choice. Perhaps she had given him too much hope by asking the favor of him that she did, but Elisande had felt it necessary.
She prayed she lived long enough to deal with the consequences. As she turned away from the approaching battle-hardened knights, she knew there was only one thing she could do to try to save the lives of the people left behind.
Surrender.
***
A white flag rose as Sir Henry guided his destrier toward the wooden walls separating him and his knights and soldiers from the manor King William had ordered him to bring under Norman control. Baron Auldwyn had proven treacherous, and Henry was expecting exactly that from him again.
Surely, he has not surrendered without so much as a fight.
But the gates were open, and there wasn’t a single soldier visible.
Is it a trick? A trap?
Auldwyn wouldn’t be the first Saxon to surrender without a fight, but he also wouldn’t be the first to employ deception to kill as many Normans as possible.
Henry slowed and held up a hand to signal his men to do the same as they reached archery range, but he didn’t see a single arrow pointed in their direction.
It looks deserted.
They had expected Baron Auldwyn—whose knights were rumored to be fierce—to attack, especially since they had also heard that Auldwyn’s daughter was extraordinarily beautiful. But there seemed to be no resistance at all.
Something isn’t right.
But Henry didn’t know what it was. His gut said ride on, and his instincts had kept him alive when stakes were much more perilous than this.
“What do you say, Sir Henry?” Sir Geoffrey, one of his noble knights, asked from beside him. “Is it a trap?”
“My gut says no. What say you?”
“I wouldn’t trust a Saxon further than I could throw him, but … where is everyone?”
“Keep your wits about you. Be ready for anything, at any moment.”
Not a single soldier, archer, or knight appeared to defend the manor. Peasants and servants clustered around the walls, and not one held even so much as a pitchfork.
It can’t be this easy. Can it?
This holding was meant to be his. King William had told him to conquer and claim it. Marry the baron’s daughter if necessary to secure the holding. Henry had been a landless knight in Normandy, but his dreams and aspirations included a home of his own. A wife. Children. Lands. And now that they were taking England from the Saxons and King William had set this task before him, his dream was closer to becoming a reality than ever before.
Slowly, they rode into the courtyard. The peasants stared up at them, wide-eyed, from dirty faces. They didn’t look terrified. They looked … resigned.
“Welcome, my lord,” one man said as he stepped forward.
“Sir Henry de Vere. Bring me your baron.”
The man shook his head. “Can’t, sir. He’s gone. They left when word reached us. All of ’em. Left us here for you to slaughter.”
“We have no intent on harming anyone who does not intend to harm us, let alone peasants.”
The man’s frame relaxed. “Glad to ’ear it. We have no fight with the Normans. We work this land, no matter who we call master. This is our home. We don’t know no other.”
“What are you called?” Sir Henry asked the man.
“Baldwin, sir.”
“Where are the knights and soldiers who guarded this manor for Baron Auldwyn?”
“All gone with ’im, sir. Not a single one stayed behind.”
Cowards, Henry thought. They left defenseless people behind with no protection other than a white flag of surrender.
“Who is in charge here then? You?”
“No, sir. The Lady Elisande.”
“The baron’s daughter?” Henry asked, more than appalled. What kind of man leaves his child?
Baldwin shook his head. “No, sir. His sister.”
“He left his sister?” Disgust filled Henry as his horse shifted beneath him.
“Lady Hilda could not ride. Lady Elisande would not leave her. She is the one who ordered the surrender, sir.”
A woman ordered the surrender. That makes more sense.
“Who is Lady Hilda?”
“The baron’s daughter, sir.”
Henry shook his head.
“Does he have no honor?” Sir Sayer, one of his most trusted knights, asked from behind him, with the disgust Henry felt clear in his tone. “Who leaves women behind to surrender?”
“Saxons,” Henry said. “More worried about their own necks than protecting those God put in their care.”
Henry studied the man before him. He appeared healthy and capable, if in need of a bath. No doubt, Baldwin understood he was speaking to his new master, which was why he was being so helpful.
“Take me to the lady,” Henry said as he dismounted. “Squire, see to my horse.”
His squire came forward and took the reins.
“Yes, sir,” the older man said. “But, sir, with all respect, I must ask if you mean to exact King William’s revenge on the lady. She is a gentlewoman. She does not share the baron’s cowardice. Nor his cruelty.”
Sir Rolf, another of his best knights, replied from where he was mounted beside Sayer. “We aren’t Saxons. We don’t murder women.”
Henry was more interested in the daughter regardless. “She will be safe from harm in my presence. You have nothing to fear, and your loyalty and concern for the lady’s well-being is noted.”
“I have served her family my whole life, sir. Her whole life. She is a woman of valor. A prize, to be sure.”
“Why does she remain in her brother’s home instead of marrying her own husband then?” Henry asked.
“The Lady Hilda. Lady Elisande was not yet old enough to marry when it became clear …” Baldwin trailed off. “Lady Elisande can tell you better. It’s not my story to share.”
Henry was missing something, but Baldwin was likely correct. Perhaps he would get the full story from the Lady Elisande herself.
“Rolf, stay here with the men. Watch for treachery. Sayer, come with me.”
William wanted this stronghold under loyal control due to its key location. Henry knew that marrying into the family was the easiest way to gain and keep the loyalty of the servants and peasants who worked the land.
As the older man led him up the wooden stairs, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. It had been decidedly too easy so far, and Henry couldn’t help but feel that there was something unexpected coming.
“My lady,” the old man said as he knocked on a door.
“Enter, Baldwin.”
“I am not alone, my lady. I bring Sir Henry de Vere and his man with me.”
“I suspected no less, Baldwin. Thank you.”
Baldwin opened the door and nodded to Henry and Sayer. As Henry passed him, he whispered, “Please, sir. She’s a good woman.”
Henry met his brown eyes with a nod of his own. “I understand.” He glanced at Sayer. “Stay here by the door. Keep watch within and without.”
“Of course.”
Henry stepped inside the room, and the first thing he noticed was the woman standing by the slit in the wooden wall.
“Waiting for reinforcements?” he asked. “Or hoping for a rescue?”
“Hoping no one burns the hay barn actually.”
“No one plans to burn anything, my lady, unless you have such plans.”
She turned to face him. “I would no sooner cut off my own hand,” she replied with a haughty tone.
He scanned her as she studied him and his armor.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Oh, indeed,” Henry said, rather pleased with her countenance. Fair, blonde, and with the blush of a Saxon rose.
“You’re not old,” she said with surprise in her tone as her blonde eyebrows dived together.
“Did you expect an ancient man?” he asked.
“They said William and his knights were old and disfigured.”
Sayer huffed with laughter from the doorway. “Disfigured? Scars are honorable.”
“The Lady Elisande of Rosewyn Manor, I presume?”
She curtsied ever so briefly. “Welcome to my home. Thank you for not burning it down.”
“I am—”
“Sir Henry de Vere. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Is that why you waved a flag of surrender?”
“I would like to think it was wisdom that led to the white flag on our wall. With no knights or warriors, only simple peasant farmers and servants left, you and your men would have slaughtered us.”
“Where are your knights, lady?”
“Gone, with their baron.”
“What your man said is true then? Your brother left you defenseless?”
“May he rest in peace.”
Henry lifted his chin at her statement. “I was not aware he was dead.”
“Perhaps not yet, but I have no doubt he will soon be.”
Henry glanced at Sayer, wondering if he was hearing this as well.
“Why do you say that, my lady?”
“Do cowards ever fare well when they leave the weak, helpless, and defenseless to fend for themselves?”
“Perhaps you are right, my lady. Although I do wonder at describing yourself as weak and helpless. In truth, you do not seem so. Although defenseless against a knight, I suppose.”
Her green eyes left his face to focus on the sword sheathed at his hip. “I was carrying a doll when you began carrying a sword.”
“That may be so, my lady, but your wits seem just as sharp.”
Her gaze shot back to his face. “It is a shame I was born a woman then, is it not?”
Henry smiled. She was entertaining, which was decidedly unexpected. “No, my lady. I cannot agree with that statement.”
Lady Elisande met his gaze, and he realized she was perhaps not that much younger than he was. Which made him wonder just how young the baron’s daughter would be.
“Your man Baldwin said you stayed behind with the baron’s daughter because she could not ride. What kind of man leaves his own daughter behind?”
“I make reference to my earlier statement, Sir Knight.”
“Where is she?”
For the first time since her opening statement, Lady Elisande bristled. “She is not here.”
“But she can’t ride. How could she leave?” Something had felt off to Henry, and perhaps this was it.
He glanced at Sayer. “Have the keep searched. Question the servants. Find the daughter.”
Sayer left the doorway immediately to follow his orders.
“You won’t find her here,” Lady Elisande said. “I give you my word that she is long gone.”
Henry stepped closer to her. “Why should I believe you? And why would you stay if you had her safely away?” That was when it occurred to him. “This is why you raised a flag of surrender. To distract us and give her time to flee?”
The beauty’s chin rose higher. “And what if I did?”
She was ever more intriguing by the moment.
“And sacrifice yourself to the old, disfigured knights?”
“What wouldn’t you do to save someone you loved, Sir Knight?”
“A woman of valor,” the servant had said.
Henry was beginning to believe him. A rarity, in his experience. And perhaps, if the daughter couldn’t be found, his future wife. That thought didn’t bother Henry at all. The steel in her spine, the fire in her eyes, and the verbal jousting could make for an interesting bed partner.
It was up to him to secure the manor; the Lady Elisande might be the most enjoyable way to do so.
Henry smiled at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Please, stay here, while my knights search the manor. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
ORDER YOUR COPY FROM YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER NOW!
Grab the ebook
Grab the audiobook
Want to read all of my new release ebooks EARLY and FOR FREE?
About the Author
Who is the author behind Sir Henry de Vere's epic love story?
Meghan March
Making the jump from corporate lawyer to author was a leap of faith that New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Meghan March will never regret. With over forty titles published, Meghan March has sold millions of books in over a dozen languages around the world. She lives happily ever after with husband, Jacob Wilson, without whom she would never have found true love. Meg and Jake love to connect with their readers, followers, and fans in Rebels + Runaways, their 100% positive and uplifting community and digital home.
Did I mention EIGHT MORE new releases are coming this year?
Don't miss out on the next one.
Sign up for my newsletter!