by Regan Walker
“I am thankful to ye,” said Hulda. Then looking up at the Red Wolf, she said, “M’lord, ’tis a sorry welcome I’ve given ye. I’m in yer debt for yer kindness shown Edith this day.”
“Do not concern yourself with any welcome, madame. I came to meet the people of Talisand, and to see to the needs of the village.”
“And so ye have done, m’lord.”
It appeared to Serena the Red Wolf had won at least one of Talisand’s people to his cause. She was glad the afternoon was over as she left the cottage with the two men. Weary in body, she was lifted in spirit by the actions of the Red Wolf. When he could have left her to tend the potter’s assistant alone, he had lingered and done more; he had helped. It had meant a lot to Hulda.
It meant a lot to her lady.
Chapter 9
Renaud returned to the manor, the sun now lower in the sky. Maugris was still with him but he had dismissed Sarah to her evening tasks. Yet he could not free his mind from thoughts about the servant girl. All day he had struggled to concentrate on the village and its people, to assess the lands William had given him, but Sarah had proved most distracting.
Walking before him, her long brown plait moving from side to side, his eyes were drawn to her swaying hips. He wanted to reach out and pull her to him as he had the night before. To kiss again her soft lips. He vowed he would do so and soon; it was merely a matter of time’s passage.
Her effect upon the villeins had been remarkable, making him wonder how a handmaiden had garnered such respect. Mayhap she undertook errands for Lady Serena as Geoff had suggested. Was the handmaiden more accomplished than the lady herself? He considered the possibility for the people deferred to the servant girl, not once mentioning the missing Lady Serena. Not for the first time, he wondered at the girl with the violet eyes. Could she be more than she seemed? Sarah had been quick to help the wounded potter and brave enough to confront him when she thought he was wrong. He respected such qualities in a warrior and coveted them in a woman. But in a servant, it was most unusual. And it made him wonder.
Occasionally, when Sarah had leaned in to explain something, Renaud had caught a whiff of her flowery scent. He had tried to suppress his desire for her and found it impossible. He was drawn to her as a bear to the delectable smell of ripe berries. And because of her, he’d lost interest in the other women at Talisand who might have met his physical needs. He wanted only her as his leman. His patience was wearing thin, the scowl on his face proof of his frustration.
Maugris chuckled under his breath.
“Do you find something humorous, wise one?” Renaud asked as they entered the hall and he waived away a tankard of ale offered by a servant.
Maugris just smiled and refused the tankard he was offered. “Naught, my lord…and everything.”
“You would be mysterious?”
“I would be an observer. But to see all does not mean I tell all.”
“As you will. But join me by the hearth fire for wine and conversation. I would tell you of my plans for William’s castle.”
“Of course,” said Maugris.
Renaud stepped into the hall, Maugris at his side. The wise one’s hidden ways could annoy Renaud at times, but the old man’s wisdom impressed even the doubtful among his men, thus he rarely questioned him when he was like this. He had learned his questions would avail him little.
* * *
Serena woke in a cold sweat with an image in her mind of the Red Wolf’s deep gray eyes staring intently at her as if he knew the truth of who she really was. It was her greatest fear.
Rising from her pallet where she slept among the servants, she donned her tunic and shawl and slipped outside into the dull light of an early morning without sun. Above her, dark threatening clouds covered the sky like a heavy blanket. It would rain this day. Gathering her shawl tightly around her against the chill, she walked to the river’s edge and stood looking down at the smooth rocks scattered on the small shore, content to be alone with her thoughts. Often she had come here to think. After Hastings, sometimes she came to shed tears away from the eyes of others.
The honking of a flock of geese above her drew her attention as they winged their way north toward Scotland where Steinar was. Where she should be even now.
Returning her gaze to the river, she stared at the water flowing with nary a sound. The wide rippling thread reflected the color of the sky, only a deeper shade of gray—the color of the eyes in her dream, just as deep and just as mysterious.
The eyes of the Red Wolf.
His coming had changed everything. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with a deep regret that brought tears to her eyes, a few escaping down her cheeks. She brushed them away as thoughts of her father and Steinar filled her mind. They had been her strength, her protection, but they had abandoned her, leaving her alone and vulnerable. They had not meant to leave her but still they were gone.
No sound warned of his approach, but the uneasy feeling of being watched made Serena turn in nervous anticipation to see Maugris silently walking toward her.
“Oh, ’tis you.” She let out the breath she’d been holding as her heart slowly returned to its normal cadence. The wise one did not threaten her.
“Yea, only Maugris,” he said with a warm smile as he joined her to stand by the river.
She snuck a glance at him. He was looking straight ahead. “They say you are his wizard.”
“I am no wizard for I worship the Master of the Heavens the same as you.”
“What are you to the Norman lord, then?” She had wondered many times about the nature of their relationship.
“Merely his advisor and I think a friend.”
“He is fortunate to have you, sir, for I perceive you are wise and surely a man such as the Red Wolf would need your wisdom.”
“You, too, were helpful to him yesterday in the village. Do you always have such care for the villeins that you would step in the path of a wolf?”
“I suppose I do.”
“And do the people always defer to you?”
She hesitated, fearing the question. “As a handmaiden to their lady—”
“It is possible a handmaiden could rise to that level,” he interrupted, “but it is not common. You were not merely passing messages yesterday, but speaking as one whose words are heeded in her own right.”
Serena was uneasy at the turn of their conversation. What was he suggesting?
His pale blue eyes suddenly bore into hers with new fervor. “Your defense of the woman who was nearly violated by Sir Hugue was the action of one who assumes responsibility for the maidens of Talisand. A servant might have run away, glad to have been the one spared, but from what I heard, you would have killed the knight had not Sir Geoffroi stopped you.”
“In the absence of Lady Serena, surely I must defend the women.”
“Indeed, my lady, I well understand.”
She inhaled sharply at his words. “Why do you call me ‘lady’ good sir?”
“I call you ‘lady’ for that is what you are…Lady Serena.”
She gasped at his revelation of her true identity, and quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard. She was relieved to see they stood alone on the river bank. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “How do you know this?”
“I have the gift of visions and of the sight and discern many things others do not. The first time I saw you, I doubted you were a servant.”
“Was it my temper? I have worried it might draw attention to me. Servants are meek and compliant.”
He smiled. “Nay, not all servants are compliant.”
“What then?” Serena had to know what had given her away for she would change it.
“There were many things that told me you were the Lady of Talisand. To begin with, your eyes flare in anger like a fire fed by the wind when you witness wrongs against your people. Only one who has carried the weight of justice for them would react so.” Shrugging, he added, “There were other signs as well. The way yo
u carry yourself, for one. ’Tis more like a young queen than one who does laundry. Then, too, your performance with the bow was telling. The Lady of Talisand is known to be proficient at the bow. The villagers nearly gave you away with their disappointment at your miss. The Red Wolf took note of it. He has also observed the way the other servants defer to you with their eyes whenever you speak. He will soon have your identity, my lady. Even now he is close to the truth.”
Serena was horrified that this servant of the Red Wolf had seen so much. Mayhap he was right. The Norman lord might soon know who she was. The thought was frightening. “But you have not told your master who I am, though you know he searches for me. You have kept my secret. Why?”
“He must discern the truth for himself. But know this, the day is not far off when he recognizes the jewel hidden among the stones.”
Serena wondered at his strange words as a sudden foreboding came over her like an ever-tightening rope about her neck. She had wanted to stay to be assured her people fared well. But now it was clear she had stayed overlong. Had she stayed for more than her people? Had she lingered for the Norman lord? Panic rose in her throat. She bit her lower lip with rising dismay. She must leave before the Red Wolf could discover her. Before the Norman knight claimed her.
The old man’s intense blue eyes watched her closely. “The Red Wolf has a great destiny, my lady. You are a part of it. I have seen it. Do not fight this. You are meant to be his lady, to be the mother of his cubs.”
“No…never!”
The old man shook his head, a look of regret in his benevolent eyes. Though he was one of the dreaded Normans, she could feel no anger for him. He had kept her secret. But for how long?
Hastily bidding him good day, she took her leave. As she ran back to the manor, her mind spun with plans for escape. For too many days she had lingered. It was time to leave.
Lost in her thoughts, Serena did not see Aethel and nearly collided with the dark-haired woman standing near the entrance to the kitchen. “Oh, Aethel. Forgive me, I did not see you.” Serena held her hand over her racing heart.
Aethel leaned back against the manor, her arms folded under her ample bosom, and smiled. “So, m’lady. Why be ye in such a hurry so early this morn?”
Looking around to assure herself they were alone, Serena cautioned, “Aethel, do not give away my station. I am not your lady at the moment, but a mere servant. You know this.”
“Aye, I know it but ye do not wear the disguise well. ’Tis not natural for ye.”
“Mayhap you are right, but for now, it serves. I expect you to say nothing.”
“Heavens, no, m’lady! Think ye I am daft? Ye hide from the Norman lord when he would have ye to wife where I would be pleased to share his bed as I did yer father’s.”
Serena inwardly cringed at the woman’s bold statement. It had been hard for her to accept that her father had taken Aethel to his bed. Yet she knew he’d been lonely, and so Serena was unsurprised when he’d sought out the dark-haired beauty. But remembering the night she had discovered Aethel in the Red Wolf’s bedchamber, she bristled. It did not please Serena that Aethel desired to be the new lord’s leman. But how could she object?
“You are welcome to him, Aethel. Surely he has accepted your favors.”
“Nay, he has not. But that could change if ye were gone.”
It gladdened Serena’s heart to know that despite what she’d seen, the Red Wolf had rejected Aethel’s attentions. “Whatever happens, Aethel, I thank you for keeping my secret.”
“I would do more, m’lady. I would help ye leave.”
* * *
Thwack! Morcar angrily plunged the dagger into the wooden table and the harsh sound echoed around the chamber. “Damn William for taking Northumbria from me! Else Serena would be mine.”
“Calm yourself, brother,” Edwin said, leaning his elbows on the wooden table where he relaxed with a tankard of ale. “You must be practical. Even if you still had Northumbria, it may not have been enough. As Earl of Mercia, William promised me his daughter, Alice. Yet he was happy enough to change his mind when the greedy Normans he surrounds himself with urged him to renounce his pledge. We were fools to give him our fealty thinking he wanted only Wessex. We should have realized he wanted all of England.”
“He will not stop ’til he has given it all to his barons and knights. But Serena…” He paused, remembering the woman of his dreams. “I still want her.”
“There will be other women, Morcar. At least that is what I have tried to tell myself.”
Morcar paced in the solar of his brother’s Mercian manor. “Aye, he was unworthy of our fealty. But there are no other women so fair as the Lady of Talisand. I would have her still be she unwed. I have heard her brother Steinar lives; mayhap he’ll consent to the match. If William had not dragged us off to Normandy, I might have seen to it ere now.” Morcar burned with resentment for the Norman king who had taken Northumbria from him. “I am still Earl Morcar. I will go to Talisand and seek her hand.”
“Nay, the country is too uncertain and William might think you travel north to retake Northumbria.”
“Mayhap I do, brother.” He grinned. “York is not far.” He allowed a smirk to slide across his face as he considered the possibility. “Though Edgar Ætheling bides his time, he might be persuaded to join in a fight that would give him the throne. Many in the north would rally to support his claim to the crown.”
“We can only hope. But it will take time for us to gather sufficient support to confront the Bastard in battle. As for Lady Serena, I bid you wait. ’Twould be best to send someone to Talisand who will not draw attention to himself, one who can quietly inquire if Talisand is still in Steinar’s hands or if William has bestowed it upon one of his knights. Though the lands are far to the north of London, you cannot be certain the old thegn’s lands have not fallen to one of them. They are too rich for William to ignore.”
Morcar considered his brother’s advice. Though he was still angry for all he had lost, and the shame William had heaped upon them in Normandy, parading them about as his guests when they were no more than prisoners, he could not dismiss the wisdom in Edwin’s words.
“There was a wench who was the old thegn’s leman. I spoke to her when last we visited Talisand,” Edwin said, rubbing his bearded jaw. “Her name is Aethel. I can send a messenger to speak with her. The servants will know all that has happened at the manor. And in the meantime, you can make your inquiries of Edgar.”
“’Tis a good idea,” mumbled Morcar, wondering how it might be accomplished.
“Do you remember that the old thegn was known for entertaining artists and those skilled in crafts and fine wares?” asked his brother.
“Aye. We were well entertained when we were there and Serena was always lavishly gowned. What do you suggest?”
“Let us send a man disguised as one of them,” offered Edwin, “and you will have the information you seek without anyone aware who is asking, save this woman Aethel.”
“Aye, ’twill serve. Soon I will have Lady Serena here in Mercia, and mayhap information from her brother.”
* * *
It was dark when Serena woke. With haste, she donned the clothes Rhodri had given her the night before as he told her of Eadric the Wild and his alliance with King Bleddyn of Wales. What did it bode for their chance to regain England?
Only a day had passed since she had talked with Maugris at the edge of the river, and the words of the old man continued to haunt her. The desire to be with Steinar pulled her toward Scotland at the same time her fear of discovery and her growing attraction for the Red Wolf prodded her to go.
Her people would survive. Though he might be arrogant and demanding, she was convinced the Red Wolf would do nothing to harm them.
As she made ready her escape, she told only Cassie, Rhodri and Aethel, who for her own reasons, had offered to help. Though the Welsh bard had counseled against it, Serena had decided to take no one with her. She would risk no one
save herself.
Securing her long plait on top of her head, she pulled the brown cap over her ears. With great care, she stole from the servants’ sleeping quarters, waking no one. Her soft boots made no sound as she crept into the kitchen and took her bow and quiver of arrows from behind the cabinet where Maggie had hidden them. Jamie had recovered her seax and once more the blade was secured at her waist. The bread and cheese saved from yesterday’s meals would last her a day and then she would hunt. It was early summer and there would be plenty of game.
Keeping to the darkest shadows, she crept through the door leading to the kitchen garden. As she stepped over the threshold, she was startled to find Rhodri waiting for her.
“Serena, I would go with you,” he whispered. “Steinar would expect it.” The Welshman carried a small sack and his bow was slung over his shoulder.
“Nay, Rhodri,” she insisted, “I would go alone. You are needed here.”
His black curls fell onto his forehead and he frowned as he stepped back and bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”
Serena could feel him watching her when she slipped silently to the stables. He still had his doubts, she knew. As Serena had expected, the stable boys slept soundly in the loft above, and the groom in his own alcove, so her soft footfalls did not wake them. Elfleda whinnied softly. Serena quickly walked to her stall and saddled the mare, leading her from the stables while keeping to the edge of the yard. Soon she was through the postern gate. The loud snores coming from the guard gave proof to the sleeping draft Aethel had supplied him the night before with his ale. He would not wake to stop her.
Once the woods engulfed her, Serena mounted her mare and rode north, slowly at first, winding her way through the dense stands of trees, and then at a gallop in open country. The rising sun painted the sky with gold streaks and she smiled with her success at getting away unnoticed. But she was less certain of her feelings at leaving the Norman whose very presence pulled her to him. She did not want to like the knight for the man he was, to remember the way he had kissed her, to see his gray eyes in her dreams. She wanted to remember only the Norman king he served. But in her heart, she already missed the Red Wolf.