The Red Wolf's Prize (3 page)

“It would not be unusual given the actions of William’s
army,” said Renaud. “Send out a detail to search the surrounding area. If they
are not found in the village, tell the men to search the woods to the north.”

Geoff hurried toward the manor’s front door, but before he
reached it Renaud asked, “Is there a seneschal?”

Geoff turned. “Aye. A steward named Hunstan, but he has gone
to the three smaller manors to tell them of our anticipated arrival.” At
Renaud’s raised brow, Geoff smiled. “Those manors are a part of Talisand, now
yours as well. The housekeeper said the man would return in a day or two. There
is also a captain of the old lord’s guard, named Theodric. He lives in one of
the manors. I have not yet found him. He might be assisting the men.”

With a flick of his wrist, Renaud dismissed the knight.
More
manors?

“Talisand is rich, indeed,” said Maugris standing at his
side.

From the hallway that led to the kitchen, a woman of middle
years hurried toward them. She was plump and her manner pleasant. Her rosy
cheeks and green eyes, the color of spring grass, rendered her a robust sight.
But as he looked more closely, her brown hair, laced with gray, was in disarray
and her expression anxious.

She curtsied before him. “I be Maggie, m’lord. Cook and
housekeeper. Me husband, Angus, is the smith. The lads are bringing ale and
soon ye and yer knights will have a hot meal. I imagine ye’re hungry. Do ye
have many with ye?”

“A half dozen knights and a score of men-at-arms and other
retainers and squires. Your servants seem small in number, Goodwife Maggie.”
Then with raised brows, he said curtly, “Are you missing some?”

A troubled expression came over the woman’s face. She looked
down for a moment before she spoke. “Some of our lasses feared for their
virtue, m’lord. They have left to follow Lady Serena.”

Renaud’s gaze narrowed, furrowing his brow, shocked at what
he had heard. He attempted to hide the anger welling within him, but his jaw
involuntarily clenched. “The Lady Serena is gone?” His voice was as cold as his
heart at the realization she had run.

“I am verra sorry, m’lord.”

“Where is she?” he demanded.

The woman twisted her hands at her waist. “In truth, I do
not know, m’lord though her destination was Scotland.”

Seething, Renaud felt a muscle in his jaw clench. So the
English maiden had fled rather than be wed to a Norman knight? She would not
get away with such an insult! He would send a man after her, even to Scotland
if need be. William’s decree had begun the marriage; consummation would
establish it. And he meant to consummate it and soon.

He was still pondering whom he should send after his errant
bride when Maugris introduced himself to the housekeeper. “I am Maugris,
Maggie.”

Taking in Renaud’s scowl, Maugris said in a calm voice,
“Perchance in time Lady Serena will be found, my lord.”

Renaud stroked the pelt of the wolf in an effort to calm
himself and let out a breath. Maugris’s message was clear. He should wait. It
was only his respect for the old man that stayed his anger from turning into
action.

“I truly hope so,” he said to Maugris. “It would displease
the king to find the woman he gave me is now in Scotland.” Then to the
housekeeper, “And it pleases me not at all.”

For a moment an uncomfortable silence hung in the air, interrupted
by the housekeeper’s anxious question. “May I show ye to the lord’s
bedchamber?” It was clear to Renaud she was eager to leave behind the subject
of her missing lady.

Geoff stepped through the front door and joined them,
acknowledging Maggie with a smile.

“It seems Lady Serena has chosen to flee,” Renaud informed
Geoff.

“With the other women?” Geoff asked incredulous.

“I know not, but I will soon have the truth of it. Come, let
us see the chambers above. I will deal with my rebellious bride later.” Renaud
and Geoff followed Maggie up the stairs. Maugris chose to remain below, seeming
to take all in with his knowing blue eyes.

Though still angry that the lady had fled, Renaud turned his
attention to his new manor. As she ascended the stairs, the housekeeper told
him there were three chambers above. The lord’s chamber was the first she
directed them to at the far end of the corridor.

“’Tis the largest o’course,” said Maggie, “nearly twice the
size of the others.”

The bedchamber they entered contained a poster bed with dark
green curtains and furs strewn on the cover, extravagant even for a wealthy
thegn. The bed cushion looked well stuffed and comfortable. His gaze lingered
on the soft coverings in anticipation of his rest that night. He had not slept in
a bed since he had left London.

Several chests lined the wall on the other side of the bed
beneath a small window. Directly in front of him was a trestle table and bench
seat, which would provide him a place to work. Behind the table, on the wall,
were wooden shelves that contained scrolls and other writings. The old lord had
been a man of letters, it seemed.

Renaud walked to the window above the shelf, his boots
crushing dried rushes underfoot releasing a pleasant scent of herbs. He opened
the shutters, allowing light to spill forth so he could examine the writings.

“Was the old lord educated?”

“Aye, m’lord,” said the housekeeper as she lit rush lights
near the bed, the slender torches adding light to the chamber. And then with a
note of pride, she added, “The children as well.”

“Most unusual….” He fingered some of the writings and was
surprised to see a collection of poems in Norman French. As he looked around,
he saw no feminine touches to indicate a lady of the manor.

“Does the old thegn’s wife still live, Maggie?”

“Nay, m’lord. She died giving birth to Lady Serena. The lord
never took another to wife.” The housekeeper looked toward the door as if
wanting to move beyond the pain the memory obviously brought her. “The other
two bedchambers can serve for yer men if ye desire, m’lord,” she said.

“Whose bedchambers are they?” Geoff asked.

“They belonged to Lady Serena and her brother Steinar.
Neither is here now, o’course.”

Renaud exchanged a look with Geoff. The reminder of his
missing bride brought his frown back.

They left the bedchamber and walked the length of the narrow
corridor open to partial view from the entry below.

Each of the two other chambers was also decorated with
tapestries. Like the master’s bed, they were draped in curtains and had bed cushions
that, although smaller in size, invited the weary to rest. From the softer
colors and the gowns in the wardrobe chest, Renaud assumed the chamber closest
to the lord’s had belonged to a woman.

Lady Serena’s chamber.

Renaud caught the faint scent of flowers and wondered how
long she had been gone.

As he turned to leave, his attention was drawn to a flash of
light from a silvered glass. “Only in Rouen have I seen one so fine.”

“’Twas a gift to Lady Serena from her father,” offered the
housekeeper, her voice reflecting a sadness he did not understand.

Surrounded by the lady’s things, Renaud was suddenly
curious. “Did the old thegn pledge his daughter to anyone?” Other questions he
did not voice. Had she traveled north with a young man? Was she promised to one
of her own?

“Nay, m’lord, though there were many who asked for her
hand.” The housekeeper shook her head. “There was talk of a betrothal to Earl
Morcar, brother to Earl Edwin of Mercia, but the old thegn delayed. I think he
dinna want to lose her to a husband, even if he be an earl.” Mayhap the
housekeeper realized that Renaud was now an earl, for her cheeks suddenly
reddened, and she hastily added, “We lost the old lord at Hastings. Had he
returned, he would have arranged a marriage to some worthy lord, ’tis certain.”

Some worthy English lord, she means
.

Renaud touched the fine surface of the glass, not sure why
he was pleased that Lady Serena had not been betrothed to another. It mattered
little. She would be his wife. He had only to find her.

“Geoff, take the bedchamber farthest from mine, the one that
belonged to the son. I would hold Lady Serena’s chamber unoccupied for now.”

“Yea, my lord. I am content just to have a bed.” Geoff
smiled broadly at the housekeeper and she returned his smile.

“I will see to yer bath, m’lord,” said the housekeeper.
“We’ve a serving lad, Eric, who will assist ye since we are a bit short on
lasses.” Not waiting for a response, she dipped her head and shuffled out the
door.

Renaud faced his friend. “Our squires can sleep on pallets
in our rooms for now. I imagine Maugris will prefer to be out among the stars
as is his wont, at least until winter. By then the castle will be completed and
there will be room for all.”

“Aye, Ren. I’ll see about the men. And our supper.”

Left alone, Renaud lingered for a moment in Lady Serena’s
chamber trying to conjure an image of the woman. Trying to understand what had
driven her from her home. He knew some of the English women had taken the veil
rather than be forced to marry Normans.
Would she?
William would not
break such a vow to the Church, no matter he had given the woman to his knight.

Renaud wandered back to his bedchamber, content with his new
demesne
and the future it portended. The decorative tapestries on the
walls and the rich fabrics on the bed reminded him of the old thegn’s wealth.
There was even a rush mat on the floor painted with geometric designs in
brilliant shades of red, gold and green.

He smiled, gratified the day had arrived when he could set
aside his sword, at least for the moment, and claim his place in William’s
kingdom. In the back of Renaud’s mind was the nagging concern that the English
might never accept their Norman king or his overlords, but Renaud did not dwell
on it. The peasants, now serfs, had little choice, and William was not one to
be thwarted. But Renaud wanted more. He longed for peace and an end to war.

An hour later, after having bathed and changed, he left his
chamber and descended the stairs, his thoughts returning to the servant girls
who had fled. He understood why they had done so. His own sister, Aveline, had
been thought a servant the day she was working in her garden, digging in the
dirt in a plain brown gown, when an errant knight had come upon her and,
thinking to have his pleasure, took her by force. Hearing her screams, Renaud
had come running and killed the rutting knight, but he could not restore to the
beautiful Aveline what had been so brutally taken.

After what happened to his sister, he could well comprehend
the fears of the servant girls at Talisand. It was the worst part of a war that
was fought not on a battlefield so much as in the towns of the conquered.
Though sometimes necessary, the destruction of innocent lives always sickened
him. He knew the taking of spoils included rape, though William frowned upon
it, and Renaud would not allow it to be counted among his men.

He could only hope the women would return.

The fire in the hall’s hearth burned slowly as the smoke
ascended to the opening in the roof, drawing Renaud’s attention to the carved
timbers above him. Soot had darkened the wooden members, but he could still see
the rich ornamentation and the intricate patterns and scrollwork he had
observed in other English dwellings, particularly in the churches.

He had left his hauberk, spurs and the wolf’s pelt in his
chamber and now sat at the table on the dais enjoying the evening meal. Torches
set into the wall cast a warm glow about the long timbered room, and candles
set upon the tables flickered as servants with expressionless faces laid
trenchers of food before him and his men. Gazing about the room, he paid scant
attention to the low male voices and hearty laughter coming from his men. A few
dogs lurked in the shadows among the rushes, eager for a scrap.

Renaud took it all in and marveled that this now was his as
well as the lands that were a part of his earldom. He ate with relish the
venison, fish and roasted vegetables the cook had prepared. His prayer had been
granted. Maggie was a fine cook. Taking up his goblet of French wine, Renaud
leaned back in the lord’s chair, well satisfied. The wine and a full stomach
lulled him into a mollified state after his anger of the afternoon.

A dark-haired woman ambled toward the dais carrying a
pitcher of wine. As she refilled his goblet, she leaned over the table,
allowing her long dark hair and breasts to fall into his view. His eyes gazed
upward to see her smiling. He did not fail to note the invitation in her dark
eyes.

“My name’s Aethel, m’lord.” The seductress slowly grinned.
“Is there aught else ye would require of me this night?”

“Nay. That will be all.”

As she sauntered away, hips swaying, Geoff leaned close to
whisper. “It seems not all at Talisand resent Normans, Ren. If you want her, I
wager she’s yours. Best to take her afore Sir Alain does. See there, he stands
in the corner with his arms crossed watching her with possessive interest.”

Renaud followed Geoff’s gaze to see his standard bearer
watching the wench. “Nay, I want her not. She reminds me of the serving women
in Rouen, comely but available to any of William’s knights.” He took a long
draw on his wine. “Let Alain have her if he will. Mayhap he will make an honest
woman of her.”

“Yet she seems to favor you.”

Renaud shrugged. “Or, she favors the title I now carry.”

“I see you have not changed,” teased his friend, “still the
warrior priest.”

“Ah… That description bandied about London. I’d forgotten,”
he said thoughtfully. “Why? Because I protect the women?”

“Yea, that and because you wear honor like a cloak and
expect the same of your men. You would seek to gain a measure of trust with the
vanquished when other knights care nothing for such sensibilities.”

“You know me well, my friend.”

“Ah, but there is more to the tale. In London, William’s
courtiers wondered at the rules you adhere to and the discipline you insist
your knights follow. Some consider the justice you mete out for breaking the
rules harsh—the lashings and, in some cases, death by the sword. It has earned
you the reputation the Red Wolf has today.”

“The rules are necessary,” Renaud said dismissively. “I’d
not change them. To fight battles without discipline is to set out to lose.”

“And then there are the many women you have denied your
bed,” Geoff said with a wink. “I believe that is what accounted for the label
‘priest’.”

Renaud could not resist a small laugh. “I am not celibate,
as you know. Merely particular—and too consumed with William’s many tasks to
spend my evenings wenching.”

“Well, many who serve William do.”

Renaud shrugged, tired of the subject. Sated from the
evening meal, he rested his palm on his stomach. “That food was most welcome
after the meager fare we have had these last weeks. Still, I am glad we brought
those casks of wine. I much prefer it to the English ale and to the wine they
make in England.”

“Aye, ’twas a veritable feast,” said Geoff, filling his
mouth with a choice bit of venison and following it with a swallow of wine.

At the sound of the door to the yard opening, Renaud turned.
A knight wearing a hauberk came toward him at a brisk pace, his spurs making a
slight jingle as they hit the floor. Renaud recognized Niel le Brun, the knight
Geoff had sent with Sir Maurin to find the missing servant girls. Once Renaud’s
squire, the young knight had earned his spurs with the jagged scar on his left
jaw he had gained at Hastings.

“My lord,” said the knight, pausing for Renaud to
acknowledge him. “We found five women and two men several hours’ ride north.
They were traveling on foot. When I assured them no harm would come to the
women if they returned, the men admitted they were from Talisand. The weapons
they carried are now in the armory: several bows, some carried by the women, a
seax, and the scramaseax knives the men carried.”

“Where are the women now?”

“Sir Maurin has taken them to the manor’s entry where he
stands guard. I thought you would want to speak to them.”

Renaud pushed back his chair and rose. “Yea, I will see
them.”

Geoff stood, casting a regretful glance at his trencher and
the still uneaten venison.

“Your food will keep, Geoff. Let us see what the woods have
returned to us.” Renaud was anxious to get a look at the women. He hoped Lady
Serena was among them.

Curiosity compelled him forward, and with Geoff at his side,
his long strides soon covered the distance to the wide doorway leading from the
hall to the manor.

Crossing the threshold, he saw a small group of women
gathered around the brazier. Two bearded men stood in front of them, their
stance that of protectors, no matter they had been relieved of their weapons.
They wore the shorter tunics of the English and both had shoulder length hair,
one brown and the other fair with a golden mustache. Among the women, he
glimpsed a redhead and several with hair in various shades of brown. Not a
flaxen one among them.

Disappointed, and angrier than ever that his bride had
escaped, his eyes narrowed on the women. “I am Sir Renaud de Pierrepont, now
Earl of Talisand by King William’s decree. I understand why you fled but you
need have no fear for your virtue. Any who ride with me know my command in this
matter. Return to your work; you will be safe for I protect what is mine.”

His task done, Renaud turned and confidently strode back to
the hall, dismissing Sir Maurin with a flick of his wrist.

* * *

A great wave of weariness swept over Serena as the two
Normans turned their backs and, with long strides, returned to the hall. She
had walked for most of the day and then been forced to ride in the lap of the
knight who brought her back to the manor. Night had descended and the spring air
grew chilled. Yet she knew the weary feeling was due to more than the long
journey or the cold. She was anxious and angry with herself.

They should have left days earlier.

Serena had watched the two Normans approach from where she
stood behind the other women. Leppe had placed her there in an attempt to
protect her from the probing eyes of the new Norman lord. The moment she had
set eyes on the knights, she knew which of the two was the Red Wolf. He came
through the door wearing a fierce scowl as his eyes roved over the women like a
beast seeking one to devour. She had known he was looking for her and had
dropped her gaze to her stare at her feet.

But when he began to speak, she could not resist raising her
head to look at him. He was different from Sir Maurin, the knight with the
weathered face who had carried her back to the manor and spoke to her in
stilted English. This one, who claimed to be the Earl of Talisand, was used to
giving orders, his air of command proclaiming it so in English any would understand.

He had glowered at them, his piercing gray eyes like a
threatening storm. Power like soundless thunder emanated from his lean muscular
body as he stared at the small group huddled in front of the brazier.

Unlike Englishmen, his face was devoid of any beard and his
dark reddish brown hair fell in waves only to his nape. He stood erect as if
surveying a battlefield but he wore no knight’s mail, only a dark green tunic
and a leather belt studded with silver. His legs spread apart and his hands
fisted on his hips, he stood like a Viking on the deck of his ship. She
supposed that he was. The Norsemen who invaded Normandy had left their mark
well enough. And now one of their descendants had invaded Talisand.

She was glad she had not willingly accepted her fate of
belonging to him for he had the undeniable look of one who tolerated no
weakness and no dissent. A warrior who demanded his due. It gave her a secret
joy to know she defied him and the Bastard King. Yet despite that, she was
intrigued. He was undeniably handsome in a raw sort of way, and now he was the
master of all that was hers. She was more determined than ever to despise him.

The knight who had stood next to the Red Wolf was unlike his
lord, so fair as to appear nearly Saxon, save for the shorter hair and the lack
of a beard. He was not so tall, either, and carried more weight. The lines
around his mouth and eyes suggested he laughed often.

She remembered well the Red Wolf’s words. They had been few,
as if he carefully doled them out, telling the women they need not fear
ravishment, that he protected what was his. She wondered if his words were
truth. If the messengers had been correct, the Normans had raped, burned and
pillaged half of England. It vexed her that this Norman knight considered the men
and women of Talisand his, no matter it was now true. Once free, now they were
reduced to mere possessions. She hoped it would not always be so.

She turned from the entry and, with the other women, headed
to the kitchen. Worry dogged her as she thought about the fate of her people.
She decided to stay, at least for a while, to see how the Norman lord would
treat them. But how long could she maintain her disguise as a servant when all
those at Talisand knew her to be their lady? They would risk all to conceal
her, but could she ask such a thing of them?

* * *

“Faith!” Serena shouted as the heavy kettle slipped from her
hands and crashed to the floor with a loud clang, splashing hot liquid onto her
tunic. Exasperated, she wiped her hands on her apron, and bent to clean up the
remains of the broth. “Oh, Maggie, it seems I have little talent for kitchen
duties.”

Serena’s insides churned in frustration. She had been
working in the kitchen and serving at the tables in the guise of Sarah for a
week, diligently trying to blend in as one of the servants. But untrained for
the work, she had little patience for mixing, lifting and serving. Her talents
lay in the managing of the household and in other pursuits not so typical of a
thegn’s daughter.

“Ye’re trying, m’lady,” said Maggie. “’Tis all that matters,
truly. Most of the lasses assigned to the kitchen have been raised to the work
like me own daughter. Mayhap yer father shouldna have indulged ye by allowing
ye to hunt. Yet ye do sing like an angel and that always pleases a man.”

Serena looked up at Maggie from where she had stooped to
clean up the mess. She would have rolled her eyes had she not seen the smile on
the older woman’s face. But she must correct the manner in which the cook had
addressed her. “Just call me Sarah, Maggie.”

The housekeeper reached down and helped her to rise. “Dinna
worry about the broth, Sarah. Leave it be. I can make more.”

Cassie left the bread she had been preparing for the noon
meal and came to kneel beside the spilled broth. “I will do this.”

“Cassie, you are ever kind, but you know as a servant, I
must do my share of the work.”

The sound of skipping feet drew Serena’s attention to the
small boy with blond hair who had entered the back door left open on warm days
for access to the herb garden.

“’Tis young Jamie!” exclaimed Cassie.

“Ser...Sarah!” The boy ran to Serena and wrapped his arms
around her tunic, joy lighting up his young face. “Sarah, see what I have
brought ye?” He pulled a bow from his shoulder where it rested with a quiver of
arrows and proudly thrust it upon her. “Yer bow.”

“Jamie, you prince!” she said, taking it. “Where did you
find it?”

“When the knights brought ye back, they put it in the
armory. I recognized it from the Welsh symbols Rhodri carved in it when he made
it for ye. I knew ye’d want it.”

Serena smiled and kissed the top of his curly, sun bleached
head. “Now I have only to recover my seax.”

“I will look for that, too,” said the boy eagerly.

Maggie gazed in Serena’s direction, her eyes fixing on the
bow. “Now there is something ye’re good at. And since the knights have been
concerned with their swordplay and building onto the stable, they have yet to
hunt to add to our stores of meat. Can ye do that for me on the morrow? I need
rabbits for stew.”

“I would be happy to hunt, Maggie. I am better at that than
making broth.”

“Yea, ’tis true, ye are.” Looking down at Jamie and then at
Serena, she said, “Go on then, take the lad for a walk to the stable. He loves
to see the knights’ horses and some air will do ye both good. I’ll make the
broth. If ye want, ye can return in a wee bit to serve the midday meal.”

“You are a generous woman, Maggie, to be so kind to one of
the servants.” She gave the housekeeper a wink. “I welcome some time with
Jamie.”

“Give me the bow,” Maggie said, reaching for it. “I will see
yer weapon well hidden here in the kitchen.” She took the bow and quiver of
arrows, covered them with a drying cloth and set them behind the wooden cabinet
in the far corner of the room.