Eric was dumbfounded when he reached the castle entrance. A dense, well-dressed crowd had gathered at the gates of the Count's Castle, all of them clearly people of status.
They crammed into the already small space in front of the gate, making it practically impenetrable.
It was no longer a question of whether he could conceal his presence; the real question was whether he could even squeeze through the throng.
Two well-equipped guards were also posted at the gate, but they were clearly overwhelmed by the crowd. They were squatting on the grass, using their two finely crafted long spears as seat cushions.
After making a few inquiries, Eric learned that the Count's daughter had annulled her betrothal just yesterday. In the span of a single night, the news had already spread through the surrounding counties. As a result, local squires and knights had rushed to Xialing first thing in the morning to ask for her hand in marriage.
After all, the Earl of Hereford was a highly prominent noble in England, which meant his daughter's dowry would be substantial.
King William had brought only about ten thousand Normans from Normandy to England, almost all of whom were armed men. This number was insignificant compared to the native English population.
Therefore, the Norman nobility who were granted lands in England were extremely cautious about their own safety. They erected tall castles across England, fortresses that were often sturdier and more sophisticated than those on the European Continent.
The Earl of Hereford's castle was no exception. High up in the castle, in one particular room, was a bay window that stood out from the rest. Within it were two figures, one tall and one small.
The taller one was the Count's eldest daughter, Emma. Though her attire was quite plain—just a simple, belted tunic—her beauty was in no way diminished. She and her younger brother, the Count's heir, were bent over a custom-made game board, moving black and white pieces across it. The pieces themselves were made of ivory and were quite valuable.
It was a little game currently in vogue among the nobility of France, a variation of Nine Men's Morris. Her father had brought it back from Normandy specifically as a birthday gift for her, but lacking any peers her own age, she could only play it with her younger brother.
She played with the white pieces. Each time she placed one, she would first press it against her smooth, fair cheek, gently swinging her deep-red, pointed leather boots as she contemplated her next move. A smile would occasionally grace her lips; she thoroughly enjoyed games like this.
But her opponent, her younger brother, was restless and impatient. Unlike his sister, he loathed the game. He had never once beaten her, so his gaze was often drawn to the sights outside the window.
"Ah! Sister, there's a priest in the crowd down there! Is that priest here to marry you, too?" her brother shrieked deliberately, his tone exaggerated.
"Quiet down, Richard. How many times have I told you not to shout in the castle? It echoes!" Emma said, rapping her brother on his large head.
"But there really is a priest!"
Richard clutched his head, his voice still high-pitched.
'How can that be? Is it because of what happened yesterday?'
She recalled that EDe's uncle was supposedly a bishop. 'Could he have come to plead EDe's case?'
A wave of irritation washed over her at the thought.
She loathed the Norman Knight named EDe. Though handsome enough for a man his age, he reeked of self-importance. He was ignorant yet overconfident, and his lust was completely undisguised.
Her first impression of him was that of a Wild Boar in heat, with protruding lips like a woodcock's beak.
Her husband didn't have to be a great scholar, but he certainly couldn't be a man like that.
'If it's the Bishop,' she thought, 'Father might be swayed.'
She put down her game piece, stood, and walked to the window. Her gaze soon fell upon Eric. He was clearly a young man, about her own age; it was impossible that he was the Bishop.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
But the moment his sister's gaze shifted away, Richard quickly moved one of her pieces.
"Richard, you little cheat! You're moving the pieces! Who taught you to break the rules like that?!"
"I don't like rules," Richard said sulkily.
"No! You have to follow them!" Emma grabbed Richard's hand, raising her other as if to strike him.
"Why should I! I'm the Count, so I'll do what I want! Just like Father! You have to listen to me too, Sister!" Richard was furious. He flipped the game board over and screamed.
"But you are not the Count yet! You have to learn how to be one! Otherwise, you'll never become a proper nobleman."
Emma slapped her brother across the face. If he held such beliefs, she couldn't begin to imagine what life would be like for their subjects when he eventually became the Count.
"You hurt me!"
Richard bit down on Emma's wrist, and she cried out in pain, letting him go.
Richard immediately ran for the door.
"Sister hit me! Sister hit me! Father! Father! Waaaah..."
...
Eric, of course, knew nothing of the drama unfolding inside the castle. He was currently facing troubles of his own.
"Unknown priest, halt. This is not an area for preaching. State your purpose and present your proof of identity."
The two guards got to their feet, raising their hands to block the approaching Eric.
"I am a Monk from the nearby King's Bridge Monastery," he said. "I've come to petition the Lord Earl for this year's market license for the Monastery. My credentials, however, were stolen by a thief."