The Red Wolf's Prize Page 2

  “Aethel? Nay lass.” Maggie gave Serena a wry look. “That one would lift her skirts for any Norman who would have her. She’ll nay be running from them.”

  “I suppose you speak the truth,” Serena admitted. “Since she went to my father’s bed, she has not been the same.”

  “Or ye just didna see what she really was all along,” chided Maggie.

  The words saddened Serena. It was true that after being rejected by Theodric, the captain of Talisand’s guard, Aethel had changed. The dark-haired beauty attracted many men, including Serena’s father, the lonely thegn, but Aethel did not seem to be happy even with him.

  “That leaves only Cassie and me and the three other women,” said Serena. “Leppe and Alec will go with us, disguised as village cottars. Of the Talisand fighting men that still remain after the slaughter at Hastings, they are among the best and will be faithful to protect us.” Wanting to assure Maggie they would have protection, she added, “Theodric and the other guards will stay to defend Talisand, if need be. I have asked steward Hunstan to visit the other manors to warn them of the Normans’ coming.”

  “How soon do they arrive?” Maggie asked, glancing anxiously in the direction of the main gate.

  “I know not the day,” said Serena, “but I expect it will be soon, so we must be away this hour. I fear I have waited too long as it is.”

  Maggie nodded and looked at her daughter. “Send word as soon as ye’re able.”

  Cassie’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced her mother. “I will.”

  Blinking back her own tears, Serena sought to keep her voice steady. “Do not worry for us, Maggie. I have my bow and my seax. We will be well. And we will see you again, for I intend to return with Steinar to chase the Normans from Talisand.”

  Serena glanced once again at her reflection. Her hair now bore the color of the brown stain and was nearly dry. She felt changed inside as well as out.

  “Ye look so different!” exclaimed Cassie as she formed the newly dyed tresses into a long plait.

  “Aye, she does,” said Maggie. “But the color does not hide her beauty. Mayhap a plain tunic will help.” Maggie handed Serena a dark green tunic, and she slipped it over her shift.

  As the folds of the rough wool settled around her, she felt her new life settle around her as well. The servant’s garment was a stark contrast to the soft wool of the fine gowns she had worn as the Lady of Talisand. She looked down at her ankles that showed beneath the hem. The borrowed tunic did not fit well, either.

  Seeing her shrug, Maggie said, “It will do ’til ye reach Scotland.”

  Serena sat on the chest at the end of her bed and pulled on the woolen hose and soft leather half boots the female servants wore. Cassie handed her a leather belt, which Serena wrapped around her waist. She secured to it her seax, the single edged blade her brother had given her last Christmastide. Grasping the polished wooden handle, she silently vowed to use it if threatened.

  “Let me help ye with yer cloak,” Cassie said, draping the dark wool mantle around Serena’s shoulders and fastening it with a plain metal brooch. “’Twill serve to keep ye warm against the night air.” Smiling, Cassie took a step back and examined Serena’s disguise. “Ye make a convincing servant, m’lady, dressed as ye are. Except ye’re too fine of feature. So remember to keep yer head bowed and yer eyes down should we encounter any men. And since yer speech is a wee bit proper, say nothing, lest they wonder if ye are truly one of us.”

  “I will try and do as you say, Cassie. In time, I might be able to disguise my speech as well.” She would do whatever she must to escape the plans the Normans had for her. “You will have to be my guide in this new life.”

  “It is time,” Maggie said, turning toward the door. “I will have a word with Leppe and Alec afore ye go, though I know those two will protect ye with their lives.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Serena left the manor to begin the journey north. Seven walked along in silence: Serena and Cassie, three other women and the two men. The morning mist still clung to the wild grasses under Serena’s feet, dampening her leather boots. She was glad her borrowed tunic was as short as it was, else her hem would also be wet.

  When they reached the edge of the woods, Serena paused and looked back. The sun cast its rays on Talisand, making the manor, hall and thatch and wattle cottages appear to glow. To Serena, it was like something out of a dream, like a village descended from heaven. The place of her home and her heart and the memories of all she held dear.

  Tears brimmed in her eyes and escaped down her cheeks. Would she ever see her beloved Talisand again?

  Garbed in a belted tunic and short brown cloak a shade darker than his long hair and beard, Leppe gently touched her arm. “My lady, we must hurry.”

  She nodded and let him lead her away. Away from her past and the dreams she had once for her future. Soon the fierce knight called the Red Wolf would descend like a devastating storm to claim his spoils. Nothing she could do would prevent it. Concern for her people weighed heavy on Serena’s shoulders. The Red Wolf’s reputation was that of an undefeated warrior, as vicious in battle as the animal whose fur he wore.

  She prayed he would not harm the people he would need to work the land.

  Chapter 2

  It was late afternoon when Renaud and his knights crested the last hill, and he raised his hand halting the column of men. Reining in his horse, he looked west and paused to consider the sight before him.

  The sun was still shining for the days had grown longer with spring. Renaud gazed over the wide valley, green from the rain. Colorful wild flowers and clusters of birch trees dotted the sloping land where white, wooly ewes and their lambs grazed. Ahead in the distance he could see a large manor house next to what appeared to be a great hall, all surrounded by a palisade of wooden poles sharpened to a point. Behind the manor ran the River Lune, the name he recalled when he was first told of Talisand. A village lay to the north, the cottages with their thatched roofs appearing golden in the afternoon sun. From where he sat astride Belasco, dense woods to the north of the village extended as far as the eye could see.

  It was more than he had expected, the peace so real it was tangible, and a world away from the harsh sounds of London and the destruction in the south. He could still see the faces of the Saxon dead in the battles he had fought. As much as he wanted to forget, even in this peaceful place, they haunted him. With a deep sigh, he focused on the river. The wide blue riband of water flowed behind the demesne, acting like a moat to protect the manor and its outbuildings.

  Idly stroking the pelt of the wolf that lay over his hauberk, a fierce pride rose in his chest as he realized these were now his lands by William’s decree.

  “There lies the prize William has given me. There lies Talisand.”

  “Yea, you have done well, Ren,” agreed Geoff, “and now you are an earl besides.”

  Renaud smiled at his friend then turned to his other side to see the pale blue eyes of Maugris.

  The wise one stared back from where he sat astride his palfrey, his silver hair blowing across his wrinkled forehead. He nodded. “Yea, my lord, there you will find your prize.”

  “Glad I am, Ren, that we will arrive in ample time for the evening repast,” Geoff said as he shifted in his saddle.

  It had been a long day, one of many with meager rations, and Renaud knew his men were eager to arrive at their destination. “I see you are ever mindful of your next meal, Geoff. For you, Talisand is merely another place to dine.” He laughed aloud.

  Geoff grinned sheepishly.

  “Oh, and it might be best not to call me by your pet name, at least not in the presence of the new vassals, or they will think the stories of the Red Wolf are mere legend and will disregard my commands.”

  “As you will, my lord,” Geoff acknowledged, emphasizing the manner of address that was new.

  The wind rose and Renaud heard his banner flapping behind him. A grunt from Sir Alain de Roux, the k
night who bore his standard, caused Renaud to turn in his saddle. The wind had rendered the scarlet wolf on the midnight blue field a snarling beast. The burly knight struggled to gain control of the waving banner.

  Renaud chuckled. “Sir Alain, will you wrestle that wolf ’til gloaming?”

  The knight, whose size and coloring always reminded Renaud of a large brown bear, just smiled. A man of few words, Sir Alain was steady and reliable, trusted to watch the Red Wolf’s back.

  With one last tug at the cloth, the knight reined in the standard.

  Renaud looked beyond the huge knight to the rest of the company. Some men were new. The lands of Talisand were rumored to be rich. For that reason, as well as his success in battle, many had been eager to accompany him when he had left London. Behind his squire, Mathieu, and his five knights, rode the men-at-arms and retainers, along with the craftsmen they’d brought with them to begin work on the castle William expected to be finished before summer’s end.

  Carts carried the tents and supplies they had brought with them, including casks of wine. Spotting Sir Hugue, Renaud was reminded of the few mercenaries who had joined them. He would have to keep a close watch on the men he knew less well. They, too, had come seeking a place in William’s England and in the den of his wolf.

  “Bon.” Renaud faced forward and raised his hand. “Pour Talisand!”

  At the clenching of his knees, Renaud’s stallion moved forward. The column followed, moving en masse.

  Renaud’s mind filled with the faces of the jealous barons and knights at William’s court who had whispered the Red Wolf was the king’s pet, a knight so favored his requests were never denied. In their jealousy, they had failed to see the reason for the king’s favor. Renaud never acted without first consulting William in private. Then, too, he knew well the mind of his sire.

  There was only one thing that could have moved Renaud from William’s side—his dream of having his own lands. As a younger son of a Norman nobleman, Renaud had known he would have to fight for any lands he would claim as his own. And fight he had, both in Normandy and England, for there had been rebellions in the south after Hastings.

  Aware that Renaud’s devotion ran deep, but also knowing of his knight’s dream, William had finally sent Renaud away with orders to take and hold Talisand, to raise a castle that would be a guard against the king’s enemies to the north and a symbol to the English of his domination.

  William’s last words came to his mind. “Take as your wife the heiress of Talisand and raise up sons to serve my heirs.”

  “What have you heard of the Lady Serena?” Renaud asked Geoff as they drew nearer to the manor, and the bleating sheep scattered before their powerful horses.

  Geoff seemed to ponder the question. “When you were granted Talisand, I heard the men at court whispering the Red Wolf had done well, that the lady is rumored to be fair of face with hair as pale as the moon. Though at seventeen summers, she will be older than most girls at her marriage. Earl Morcar, who went with William to Normandy last year, spoke of her as if describing a vision.”

  “It would matter naught to me if the lady’s face was as plain as the side of a stable,” Renaud replied. “William has commanded she be my wife and so she shall be. Have you heard aught else?”

  “Nay, though I assume as the daughter of a thegn, she can manage a household.”

  “It is good we tarried so long in London,” said Renaud thoughtfully. “Like the king, we have learned some of the barbarous English tongue. The serfs will not be familiar with our Norman French. This far north, I would not expect any of them to speak the language of William’s court.”

  “She is supposed to be quite good with a bow,” Maugris interjected under his breath, just loud enough for Renaud to hear. “’Tis unusual.”

  Renaud raised a brow at the old one’s words. “And how would you know that, wise one?”

  A small smile twitched at the corner of Maugris’ mouth. “I have ways of knowing many things, my lord.”

  Renaud smiled. “Yea, you do, and your counsel is always welcome. Mayhap you can help me understand these people, Maugris. I expect they will be hostile to the idea of a Norman overlord, though I have little patience to give them. Still, we must find a way to make them work for us.”

  “That is one reason I have come, my lord. Your older brothers have your father’s counsel, and you will have mine. As I once served your father, now I serve you. I do not expect to return to Normandy. My fate lies with the Red Wolf and his cubs.”

  “I am glad of it, Maugris. I would miss your old face were you to have stayed behind at my father’s donjon, though I am glad your countenance is no longer green as it was on the crossing.”

  “I do not favor the sea, my lord, or boats upon it, as you know.” The old man’s face bore a grin telling Renaud that the unpleasant voyage and his mal de mer were now consigned to memory.

  Having crossed the large swath of pasture, they arrived at the palisade. Renaud was unsurprised to see a crowd of villagers lined up on either side of the open gate, curious to get a look at their new lord. The faces of the young children, particularly the boys, were agog at the knights, enthralled with the hauberks they wore, the lances they carried and the powerful horses they rode. But the faces of the men, as Renaud had expected, wore scowls and hostile grimaces. Obviously the stories of the Normans, and the tale of the one called the Red Wolf, had traveled far.

  Renaud and his men passed through the open gate and dismounted in the yard in front of the manor. Mathieu gathered Belasco’s reins while still leading the powerful black destrier Renaud reserved for battle, and led the two horses toward the stable.

  “See if you can find the one responsible for the running of the manor,” Renaud said to Geoff. “Surely they must have a seneschal. I know you will naturally want to determine when we might have a meal.” Glancing down at the mud that had spattered his leggings, he added, “I’d like to bathe before I meet the Lady Serena.”

  “Yea, my lord,” Geoff said respectfully in the English tongue, darting a glance at the watching villagers as he walked toward the door of the manor.

  Renaud waited for his men to draw near. When he spoke, it was in Norman French. “Sir Maurin, you speak some of the English tongue. Round up the thegn’s men and see they swear fealty to me. Any who do not must leave.” To the rest he said, “The usual rules apply concerning the women. Take care lest you consume too much of their ale in these first days. Though we are expected, I cannot predict our reception. Many will yet be unhappy a Norman lord has replaced their thegn. It would be best if you could learn to speak their language. Do not flaunt the power we have over them lest they hate us all the more. In time, they will accept their fate or rue the day.”

  Maugris whispered in his ear a reminder that the men would be concerned with their comforts. Raising his head, Renaud said, “I’ve sent Sir Geoffroi to see about a meal and lodging for the night, but there may not be room enough for all of you to set your pallets in the hall. Sir Geoffroi and I will lodge within the manor. The remainder will sleep in the hall or in tents until the castle is finished. Knights have first choice.”

  The men nodded, their faces telling Renaud they were pleased. The road had been long and the weather not always fair. Spring had brought heavy rains and they were often soaked to the skin while traveling north. Hard biscuits and dried meat were their only fare when their pace did not allow them to hunt. Now his men would have hot food to warm their bellies and more than soggy ground to lie upon. He prayed Talisand possessed a decent cook.

  Leaving his men to their duties, and with Maugris following, Renaud headed toward the manor’s entrance. Many eyes followed him. Whispers from the young lads told him his fierce reputation in battle had preceded his coming. At the door of the manor, he paused and turned. This time he spoke in English as he addressed the villagers.

  “I am Sir Renaud de Pierrepont, now Earl of Talisand by King William’s decree. I come in peace. If you show me the same,
we will do well.”

  The English remained silent, their stern faces disclosing little. Were they surprised to find he knew some of their language? Whether they yet accepted their fate was not clear, but it mattered little. They were now his serfs and had no choice but to follow his orders.

  Inside the manor, Renaud allowed his eyes to adjust to the light from the small windows, their shutters open, as he surveyed the interior. What he saw surprised him. Colorful tapestries depicting animals and plants draped the whitewashed walls. In between them were iron sconces that would hold torches at eventide. The furnishings were elaborate even for a thegn’s dwelling, making Renaud think the old lord must have traveled or traded well. Many of the objects he saw were from distant lands, the kind of things he had seen in Rouen and his home in Saint Sauveur.

  In the entry a brazier radiated heat, sending a thin column of smoke wafting up to a hole in the roof. A small woven rush mat lay in the center of the space and there was a bench placed to one side. In front of him, on the left, stairs ascended to the floor above where an open corridor with a half railing ran in front of several doors.

  To the right of the stairs under the upper story was an entrance to another corridor. From the savory smells coming from that direction, he judged it to lead to the kitchen.

  On his right, a wide opening in the wall led to the large timbered hall he had seen from afar, the two buildings having been joined. Peering through the opening, he saw two long trestle tables set upon the floor that was covered with what appeared to be clean rushes. The benches, he was pleased to discover, would seat all his men. A raised dais, the place the thegn would have taken his meals, was set at a right angle to the tables. In the middle of the hall was a stone hearth.

  All he observed was clean and neat. It cheered him to think that Talisand was well kept by the lady of the manor, soon to be his bride. Mayhap it was not a bad thing if she were fair of face, as Geoff had said. If he had to look upon her each day, he would prefer a pretty woman to a plain one.