by Regan Walker
As she walked down the center toward the nave, the sun cast its meager rays across her path in failed warmth. It had always been cool in the chapel. She looked up to the window at the far end of the nave, the one that had brought her father so much pride. The arched opening was large in comparison to the scale of the chapel. Small pieces of heavy glass separated by strips of metal revealed the green of the trees outside. The walls of the chapel were painted in bright colors of red, blue, yellow and orange depicting Bible scenes that reminded the people of their faith.
Even for Talisand, the chapel was unusual, and for Serena, it was a very special place. She had come here to pray for her father and Steinar and for all the men of Talisand who had gone to fight for King Harold. It had been here she had wept ’til there were no tears left when she’d learned of her father’s death. And it was here she had one day hoped to wed a man of her father’s choosing.
She forced back the tears that could so easily fall. “’Tis quite beautiful, my lord, is it not?” she asked in a weak voice.
With a look of wonder on his face, Maugris gazed at the large window and the brightly colored paintings covering the whitewashed walls. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “’Tis beautiful. A fine place for a wedding.”
“Ah but that would require a bride, oh wise one,” said the Red Wolf in a sarcastic tone, disrupting Serena’s mood.
Maugris seemed unaffected. “I dare say one will be found, my lord.”
Serena glanced back at the two men and wondered at the curious exchange. Were they talking about her, the Lady of Talisand? Or, might he have given up the hunt and now sought another? She felt a sudden chill as she considered what might be her fate were he to wed another. Would she lose all she had hoped to regain? Perplexed, and becoming increasingly uncomfortable, she walked toward one side of the small chapel and out of the corner of her eye saw the Norman knight run his hand over a wooden railing.
“Excellent workmanship. ‘Tis walnut, is it not?
“Yea, my lord,” she answered. “The wood comes from Talisand’s forests.”
“I would not have expected it in a small village.” He sounded surprised. “Is Talisand blessed with artisans and masons?”
“We have a man who is trained in masonry, my lord, and some who work in wood, but the old lord also brought skilled workers and craftsmen to Talisand to construct the chapel. They worked with him to conceive the plans for what he wanted.”
“’Tis a fine job,” said Maugris.
“Does the chapel come with a priest?” asked the Red Wolf.
Serena fought a smile. Of course her father would have seen to a priest. “Talisand shares a priest with other villages. Father Bernard travels among them, hearing confessions, saying mass and blessing marriages. Even when he is gone, the people come here to pray so the chapel is always open.” She was glad the priest was away. He was aware she was to marry the Norman and would not have approved her deception. She had decided to stay long enough to see how the Red Wolf treated her people, but the time was growing short for her to leave.
Maugris faced the knight. “You have a need to see the priest?”
“Nay,” the Red Wolf hastened to answer, “but a warrior never knows when he’ll have need of one so I am glad he is often here.”
Serena knew well the meaning of his words. A knight would think of needing a priest. Many of Talisand’s men had died in battle, unshriven of their sins. The thought of the Norman knight needing a priest for last rites gave her pause. She was surprised to realize she would feel regret at his death.
Maugris nodded. “’Tis true, my lord. I recall that priest at the church in Dives-sur-Mer who prayed for you and William’s other knights before you left for England. Mayhap his prayer gave you victory. Certainly God, who raises up kings, was with the duke that day.”
The Red Wolf lifted his head and stared at the glass window, a frown appearing on his face. “Since you brought up the subject of prayer, Maugris, when he returns you might ask Talisand’s priest to pray we will soon find my lady, before I am forced to ask William for another.”
“Those prayers have been said, my lord, at least by me,” answered the old man, “and I am confident they will be answered.”
Serena was suddenly anxious to leave the chapel. “Would you want to see Talisand’s weavers?”
“Do you mean the women of the village?” asked Maugris.
“I had in mind two who are most special.” Serena walked to the door of the chapel, leading them back into the warmth of the afternoon sun.
As they returned to the main part of the village, the same boys who had earlier stared at the Norman knight followed them.
The old man drew his lord aside to show him some damage to one of the thatched roofs. A boy with sun streaked brown hair ran up to Serena.
“M’lady,” he said, his dark eyes beseeching while he tugged on her sleeve, “I’ve something to tell ye.” Fortunately, the boy spoke hardly above a whisper.
She whispered in return as she took his hand and squeezed it. “’Tis Sarah, Beorn, remember?”
“Oh,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand, his eyes bright and a smile on his lips. “I forgot.” Then taking a deep breath, he began again. “Sarah, have ye heard about Dunn’s father? He died two days ago and now the cottage and land will nay be Dunn’s, but will belong to the Norman lord.”
Sarah looked to where the Red Wolf and his wise man were talking amongst themselves before she turned back to the boy. Letting out a breath, she said, “Yea, I knew of Dunn’s father’s passing. Dunn and his mother may remain in the cottage. But all of Talisand, its lands and manors, now belong to the Red Wolf, Beorn. The Norman king has claimed England for his own and doles out parts of it to his barons and knights. The Red Wolf is one of them.”
“I like it not,” said Beorn, a frown creasing his young forehead.
She sighed. What could she say? “I know. I feel the same. But ’tis the way of it now.” She did not want to give him hope the situation might change though she held onto that slim thread of hope herself.
Serena let go of the boy’s hand, and he rejoined his companions. Beorn thought she could work miracles. Much as she wanted to, she could not.
She returned to the two men. When their conversation ended, she directed them to the cottage where a short piece of cloth hung over the open door announced to all in the village the weavers were working.
“Good day to you, Ingrith, Annis,” she said as she led the men through the door. “‘Tis Sarah and I’ve brought with me the new lord and his wise man to see your fine work.” She turned to the Red Wolf who was standing close behind her, his nearness unsettling. “Ingrith and Annis weave for the whole village, my lord, nay just themselves.”
“Talisand has women who weave for the others?” he asked with a puzzled look.
“All the women can weave,” Serena proudly replied. In any village the women would know how to weave cloth. “But Ingrith and Annis became so skilled at weaving the fine wool of Talisand’s sheep that the old thegn encouraged them to do only that. ’Twas he who had this workshop built for them.” Dark-haired Ingrith smiled at Serena from behind a large loom in the corner, while Annis with her lighter hair and green eyes sat looking on from another loom to the side. “The villagers pay Ingrith and Annis for their cloth in trade for things the two women and their families require.”
Serena walked to the table that held folded lengths of cloth in colors of blue, rust, brown and green. “You can see the cloth is very fine.”
The Red Wolf observed the two women working at their looms. His size made the cottage seem small. It was no wonder he wanted a castle; his body was made for such a grand structure. But she knew his king’s demands were for more than shelter. Castles would tell all of England the Normans were here to stay.
After a moment, the knight’s gaze shifted to Serena as though he had sensed her eyes upon him. Heat rose in her cheeks and she averted her gaze. She did not want him to
know her thoughts were of him.
Maugris walked to the table where the finished cloth lay, running his fingers over the woolen fabric. “My lord.” He looked to the Red Wolf. “’Tis softer than velvet.”
Happy to have another subject to fill her mind, Serena said, “Ingrith and Annis provided the cloth for the tunics worn by the old lord’s family. And the thegn traded Talisand’s woolen cloth for goods the villagers did not make and for the treasures he sought from other lands.”
Maugris glanced at Serena’s simple tunic. His smile, as if he were amused, caused her brow to wrinkle. What did the old man see? Was he amused by her ill-fitting servant’s attire?
The Red Wolf was still studying Ingrith working at the loom and Serena breathed a sigh of relief that he had not witnessed his wise one’s mirth.
“I have need of a new tunic,” the Red Wolf said to Ingrith. “Some of your cloth in dark blue would do nicely.” He reached for a folded piece on the table. “I’ll send my squire for several lengths of the other colors.”
“But my lord,” interjected Serena, “they trade for their wool. You cannot just take it!”
His glower was sharp evidence of his displeasure. “This is now my land and Ingrith is my serf. You would do well to remember it, Sarah. A wise servant does not disagree with her lord.”
Serena bowed her head. “Yea, my lord.” She had already crossed the line from servant to something more. It would not do for her to fight him on this. But inside she was shocked. Did he mean to disrupt the system her father had worked so diligently to establish?
Maugris exchanged a look with his master, but it brought no change in the Red Wolf’s expression. He seemed determined to take what he considered to be his.
With regret, Serena bid the weavers good day and left with the men to continue their advance through the village. The Red Wolf handed the blue cloth to his wise one as they approached the next workshop.
A goose followed by her goslings crossed the road, hurrying at the sound of the knight’s heavy footfalls. The familiar bark of a dog sounded in the distance. When Maugris looked at her in question, she said, “The sheep grazing in the far pasture are being brought in for the night. The dog you hear is one the shepherds use.”
“Where do you keep the sheep after gloaming?” he inquired.
“There are pens at the far end of the village and on the south side of the manor, where the sheep are protected from wolves and other beasts.”
Maugris’s mouth hitched up in a grin aimed at his master, but the Norman knight did not see the old man’s smile. It was then Serena realized what she had said. A wolf was a predator, a beast all feared. Had she brought to the old one’s mind the Norman knight he served? Serena cared not if her comment displeased the Red Wolf. After all, he was the one who had chosen to wear the wolf’s pelt. Observing his fierce countenance, she thought the name he had taken suited him well.
As the afternoon lengthened, Serena observed the Norman knight’s interest grow in the village and its people, though his regard was not always returned. In response to his presence, she glimpsed fear in the eyes of some.
Was the Norman impressed with the lands his king had bestowed upon him? Talisand was a prosperous holding, a place of peace in a land that had often known war. He was a warrior far from home who had followed his duke, now his king, to a distant land. All knights wanted land, did they not? But it was not just any land he had taken, it was her land.
As she walked through the village, Serena had to fight the desire to act the thegn’s daughter and the lady of her people, planning the things she knew were needed for the winter to come, inquiring about their families and seeing to their needs. They were good people, trying to do the best for their children and she wanted to help them. Playing the servant limited her role. Could she do more if she accepted the marriage foisted upon her? Or, could she better serve the people by seeking Steinar’s aid to one day reclaim their lands? Aid that might only bring war to Talisand. The desire to flee and the desire to stay warred within her.
Introducing the Red Wolf to the villagers had a strange effect upon her. While being deferential to him, as a servant must be to her lord, the hatred she’d held onto so tightly began to ebb. It was easy to hate the dreaded Norman king who had conquered England with his army of knights and mercenaries, but it was not so easy to hate the knight who talked with her people. He needed her help to understand their needs. Though she had been angry at his ignorance of their ways and had bristled at his rebuke, she could not forget his kiss. His reputation was that of a ruthless warrior, as vicious as the wolf he had slain. Yet he’d been gentle with her. She fought to remember the steel gray of his eyes and the firm set of his jaw when he gave orders to his men, and when he had claimed the blue cloth he believed was his by right. She fought to remember he was her enemy, but she could not fight the desire that welled up inside her.
The Red Wolf bent to greet a village lad and images of his naked back from the night before flooded her mind. She remembered the scar on his shoulder and the one on his wrist. He is not invincible. He is only a man, imperfect and vulnerable. Mayhap he wore his tunic and weapons more confidently than most, his stance prouder, more sure. And he was more handsome to her mind with his dark hair and olive skin, bronzed from the sun. But for all that, he was just a man. And her fascination with him was disturbing.
A loud boom violently rent the air like a thunderclap. Serena jerked her head in the direction of the noise. With lightning speed, the Red Wolf shoved her behind him and drew his sword from its sheath.
“What was that?” Maugris shouted.
“I know not,” said the Red Wolf. Then to Serena, “Wait here until I see what has happened.”
“It came from the potter’s workshop,” she said. Ignoring the Red Wolf’s order for her to wait, she followed him as he strode toward the cottage. Behind the cottage, dark smoke belched into the air.
At the open door, the Red Wolf turned to face her. “I told you to wait!”
“But my lord, I know these people.”
He scowled, sheathed his sword and proceeded into the cottage. Again, Serena followed, holding her hand over her nose against the smoke filling the small space. It made her eyes water. As the smoke cleared, she gazed around the workshop. It appeared unaffected, pots lining the walls and blocks of clay and tools piled on a work table as they always were.
The potter’s wife, Hulda, leaned against the doorpost at the back of the cottage. She looked about to faint. The door to the rear yard stood open. Hulda stepped aside to let the Red Wolf pass. Serena put her arm around the distraught woman and watched the knight kneel beside the girl lying on the ground in front of the kiln. Black soot covered her face and blood tricked from her neck and arms where flying shards of pottery had sliced through her skin. The ground was covered with pieces of burnt and broken pots.
“Be Edith alive, m’lord?” Hulda asked tentatively.
“Yea, but she’s hurt badly,” said the Red Wolf. “Is there a place I can lay her?”
“Yea, my lord,” said Hulda, “just inside.”
Carefully lifting the girl in his arms, the Red Wolf carried young Edith into the cottage and laid her on the straw pallet that Hulda directed him to.
Maugris, who had entered the cottage, stood next to Hulda as she explained, “My husband Godfrith is away so Edith worked alone. She must have failed to dry the pots she was firing. The lass is new at the craft. I was afeard something like this might happen.” Shaking her head and wiping her hands on her tunic, she added, “She was nay always careful.”
The Red Wolf faced the older woman, his eyes reflecting concern. “Is there a healer among you…someone who can clean and tend her wounds? It is best done while she is unconscious.”
Hulda shot a glance at Serena for all the villagers knew, along with Aethel who had the knowledge of herbs, the Lady of Talisand could treat wounds.
“I will see to the girl,” said Serena before the woman could answer. “Have
you clean cloths and water, Hulda?”
While they waited for the needed provisions, the knight knelt before the girl and began to remove the broken pottery shards from her clothing. Serena was surprised he would do so.
She knelt beside him. “I can see to her, my lord.”
“Nay, we can work together until the woman returns with the cloths and water. It will not be the first time I have picked sharp objects from a wounded body, right Maugris?”
“Yea, more than once,” the silver-haired man answered.
Serena worked alongside the Red Wolf at the difficult task. The shards were stuck in the young woman’s tunic and had to be carefully lifted out. For the moment Edith was not aware, which was a blessing. In some places, the jagged pieces of pottery were still lodged in her skin.
Maugris hovered behind them. Serena could feel his eyes upon her and wondered what he was thinking.
A few minutes later, Hulda returned with the water and clean clothes. By then, most of the shards had been removed from Edith’s tunic. Serena rose. “I must go to the manor for the salves Maggie keeps in the kitchen.”
“Nay,” said Maugris, “You stay, Sarah. I will ask Maggie for the salves.”
Serena nodded and the old one left the cottage. “I will need to cut her clothing from her,” she said to Hulda. The Red Wolf rose, handed her the knife from his belt and waited on the other side of the small cottage while she and Hulda carefully cut away the girl’s ruined tunic. There were some cuts on her face and arms but her outer garments had protected most of her body.
Serena cleaned the cuts, staunching the blood, and wiping the soot from Edith’s exposed skin. Once that was done, Hulda covered the girl with a large drying cloth.
Maugris returned and handed Serena the salve Maggie had made, which Serena applied as gently as she could.
“Will Edith recover?” asked Hulda hopefully.
“I have done all I can for her,” Serena said, rising from where she had sat upon her knees and dusted off her tunic. “The wounds are cleaned. We can pray there will be no fever. I will leave the salve and ask Aethel for herbs to help with the pain. Send for me or Maggie if you need us.”