by Regan Walker
Just then, Geoff came through the doorway that Renaud had assumed led to the kitchen, approaching with a worried look. “Something’s amiss, my lord.”
Renaud scowled. “What is it?”
“When I asked for ale and food for the men, the few servants I saw rushed about with little aid. When I inquired further as to where the serving wenches were, the servants averted their gazes. I fear some of the women are in hiding or have fled, no doubt in fear of our arrival.”
“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.
Chapter 3
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.