Stirling Desire

Chapter One

England, Alnwick Castle

The Year of Our Lord 1297

"Open the portcullis, Lady Alyssa Percy, by orders of King Edward I. As Baron Kris Cressingham, I have been given these lands by the king."

Alyssa shielded her eyes from the penetrating rays of the sun as she stood atop the crenellated walls of Alnwick Castle.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to this man who sat atop a war steed, his helm in one hand and reins in the other, "Tell me again why I should open my gates?" The man’s mottled beard of gray and brown covered his pockmarked face. Alyssa’s curls swirled about her face screening the stranger’s view from her. Tossing her head back and forth to clear her vision, she stared more intently. She needed to discern this stranger's purpose. She noted that his face held marks of war and sun. She watched his horse paw the ground while waiting for his reply.

The man repeated his claim. Shocked, she staggered back a step. Looking to Girard, she queried, "Did you know of this?"

Her personal guard for ten years nodded his head. “My lady, I heard whisperings in court but did not consider giving heed to such outlandish rumors."

"You should have informed me, Girard." Alyssa dropped her silk overdress skirts, leaving them bent and crinkled from her tight hold. "Friar Malcolm, what would the consequences be for us if I keep my great doors closed?"

The friar's crucifix swayed away from his large muscular frame as he bent forward and placed his hand to his temple. "Your brother's death has not been confirmed within the church, and so these lands are still bequeathed to him. I am as confused as you are by this turn of events, my lady. But, for now, if this baron’s demand is legitimate, you have no choice. I must inform you that this man is no stranger to Alnwick."

Baron Cressingham's bark stirred the silence. "I hold King Edward’s decree. Now open the portcullis or you will pay for your insolence."

Girard looked to her for orders. “My lady?"

She nodded. "Do as he says. Open the doors. We can't disobey the king’s orders or we will pay with blood. There has been no fighting at my gates since my father’s death and I plan on keeping it that way." Friar Malcolm hesitated as if to say something but refrained. Noticing the heavy sigh that accompanied this restraint, she demanded, "Friar, speak up. What say you regarding this Cressingham?"

"Your father spoke of this before he died." The friar’s statement was cut short by the sound of hooves clattering beneath the bridge overlooking the inner bailey. The guards and sergeants at arms were readying for battle within the walls. Orders were hollered and archers weaved between Alyssa and the friar with bows in hand. The scraping of the metal bolts across heavy timbers seemed to rattle ominous intentions. Goose flesh rose on her arms and at her nape.

Alyssa turned to the friar as she descended the stairs. "What are you talking about?" she hollered over the clamor of impending battle.

Before a reply came, Baron Cressingham's mercenaries had positioned themselves face to face with her soldiers. Bows were pulled taut and the clatter of hooves echoed off the stone walls of the inner bailey. Alyssa forgot her question and bolted down the remainder of the stairs to intervene before her men displayed quixotic efforts of protecting the Percy namesake. The baron's voice boomed above the eerie silence that now settled over the castle as if a gyrfalcon's wings had smothered all light from its quarry. Alyssa pulled her broadsword from a leather scabbard at her hip as she reached the bottom of the steps, and without considering the consequences she touched the baron's collarbone with the cold tip of steel.