Clayton paused, turned to smile at Nicholaa, and then turned back to the group and continued. "Three other Norman knights had tried to capture the Saxon. Each man had failed.
"Sir Gregory was the first to request the challenge. The eager young knight, bold in heart and soul, was anxious to prove his value to his overlord. He begged to be given the duty, and when his plea was granted, the knight boasted to everyone within shouting distance that he would return victorious in less than a week's time. The rumors, after all, whispered that it wasn't a Saxon warrior in charge of the stronghold, and if that talk turned out to be true, the battle wouldn't be worthy of a single retelling. Gregory was so confident of his success that he took only thirty soldiers with him, and he fairly strutted out of the camp."
A loud round of laughter erupted from the crowd. Clayton waited until the noise had died down, then continued. "Alas," he drawled in a long sigh, "Sir Gregory didn't strut back. He couldn't, for the arrow protruding from his backside made an arrogant swagger impossible. As soon as the arrow was pulled free from his flesh, the now humble Gregory threw himself on his knees in front of his leader. His head, I assure you, was bowed low enough to touch the ground. After admitting his failure, the knight begged our beloved William to have off with his head for his shame." Nicholaa let out a little gasp. King William was chuckling over the story and dabbing at his eyes with a linen cloth. It was obvious that he was thoroughly enjoying this tale.
Clayton bowed to his king and then once again continued. " 'Were the rumors true?' King Wiliam asked. 'Was it a mere woman who bested my noble knight?'
"Gregory, I can attest, made no attempt to come up with a plausible excuse. He could only give his lord the truth, no matter how humiliating the outcome. 'Aye, my lord,' he said, 'it was a woman directing the defense.'"
Clayton once again waited until the laughter subsided, then continued his explanation. "The duke of Normandy-for our lord wasn't officially anointed king of England then-clasped his hands behind his back and stared down at the knight kneeling before him. Our lord had won handsomely at the battle near Hastings, but there were still more battles to win before England would belong to him. His men, he informed me, were weary from battle.
"Be it known to all," Clayton continued, "that William is a shrewd judge of men. He quickly noticed that from the minute Gregory came limping back into camp, his soldiers had shed their fatigued expressions and had eagerly crowded around the young warrior to hear his tale. By the time Gregory finished his confession of failure, the men were smiling in amusement. No one, you see, could believe a woman could best a Norman knight.
"William reported to me that he also was feeling invigorated by this fresh puzzle. He announced that the Saxon woman had provided a respite for his men. She'd actually made the soldiers forget their injuries and their fatigue. 'Who will take on this challenge in my name?' William, our leader, called out." Clayton was once again forced to wait for everyone's attention as heads turned.
Nicholaa whispered, "Who are they looking for?"
Royce smiled. "For Hannibal," he answered. "There he is, in the back. He's the one with the red face. His failings are about to be paraded before us."
Nicholaa tried not to laugh. The poor man looked embarrassed. "Where is Gregory?" she asked. "The first knight who took on this challenge?"
"He's trying to blend into the back wall to your left, Nicholaa."
Clayton drew her attention when he finally continued. "Another eager young knight by name of Sir Hannibal rushed forward. He placed his hand over his heart, bowed his head low, and humbly requested the duty. Our beloved William granted him permission. 'I want the woman unharmed,' he decreed. 'Bring her to London once you've secured the fortress. She'll witness my coronation.' William then paused to stare at his attentive audience before adding, 'She'll be my prize to award to a worthy knight.'"
It wasn't until that moment, when Clayton said the word "prize" that Nicholaa realized the tale was about her.
She would have bolted out of her seat if Royce hadn't held her down. She turned to her husband. She looked stricken. Her eyes filled with tears.
Royce whispered into her ear, "Clayton doesn't mock you, Nicholaa. He praises you."
She took a deep breath. Her back was rigid, and she stared straight ahead. She tried, but she couldn't block out the herald's voice.
"Hannibal left the camp on his quest the following morning. He took sixty soldiers with him, double the number Gregory had commanded. The flame of determination in the knight's eyes was bright, but like Gregory, he also underestimated his adversary. Six days later, he caught up with his overlord to confess his failure.
"A third knight by name of Michael was dispatched the following morning. He was older than the first two challengers and far more experienced, but alas, he also failed."
The herald continued, telling how William finally called together his most trusted barons, Guy and Royce, for a conference. Clayton went into great detail with praise for the barons and finally ended the dissertation with the events leading up to the marriage.
When Clayton finally finished his tale, he bowed to King William and walked over to stand directly in front of Nicholaa. He bowed low again, to her this time. Everyone in the hall stood up and applauded.
Royce stood up, but Nicholaa seemed glued to the bench. He lifted her up and held her steady with his arm around her waist.
The knights she'd bested came forward through the crowd. Each carried an armful of flowers. Gregory carried white; Hannibal carried pink, and Michael carried red. The knights bowed to Royce before placing the flowers on the table in front of Nicholaa.
King William raised his hand for silence again. "These three have earned the right to join Baron Royce's ranks. When he's finished training them, they won't be bested again."
Laughter followed that announcement. William clapped his hands together again, and the musicians began to play.
Nicholaa sat down, confused by what had just happened. She turned to Royce. He was watching her closely. He wasn't smiling. "It was all a game," she whispered. "Stealing my home and-"
He took the bluster out of her when he leaned down and kissed her. Surprised by the show of affection, she became even more confused.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "It was war, Nicholaa, not a game," he whispered. "Accept their tribute."
She slowly nodded, but she wasn't convinced.
Royce shook his head. "Nicholaa, I would never have allowed Clayton to repeat the tale if there had been mockery intended, and if I believed it was only a game to ease our soldiers' weariness, I would not have subjected you to this."
She was at last appeased. In her heart, she knew Royce wouldn't allow anyone to mock her. The flowers suddenly took on new significance. She smiled at her husband and turned to pick one up, then stopped, realizing she couldn't grasp anything with her bandaged hands.
Royce picked up a white bloom and held it under her nose. She inhaled the light, sweet fragrance, then nudged the flower toward Royce. "It smells wonderful," she announced.
He inhaled the fragrance before tossing the flower back on the table. "You smell better."
She wasn't given time to say thank you. Royce turned when a friend called out to him, dismissing her then and there.
The celebration went on and on into the dark hours of the night. Most of the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. One by one they came forward to speak to Nicholaa and offer their congratulations again. She was pleased by the good wishes, and she believed in her heart they were sincere. She also noticed several elderly Saxon barons mixing with the Normans. When she mentioned this to Royce, he explained that those who'd pledged their fealty to William were now considered equal members of the realm. A very few were even allowed to retain a portion of their properties.