by Regan Walker
But could she be loyal?
Chapter 20
It had been some time since Serena had visited the west manor. Watching her husband duck his head as he entered to avoid hitting the lintel reminded her of its smaller size. Larger than a cottage, the manor had a main sitting area with an alcove, a hearth, a separate kitchen in the rear and two large bedchambers. Above was a loft reached by outside stairs where travelers or field workers could lay their pallets for the night. Behind the manor was the stable.
Inviting smells from the kitchen wafted through the air as she stepped through the door. A servant girl brought ale for the two knights, who took their tankards to the hearth where they sat and talked.
Serena followed Eawyn into the kitchen. The servant girl took her place beside the hearth and stirred the stew.
“How is Cassie, Serena? I’ve not heard since your wedding.”
“Cassie recovers. Maggie and Aethel tend her and Sir Maurin takes her for short walks. He is finally smiling again. The two are very much in love, I think.”
“Sir Maurin is a good man. And a knight. Cassie would do well to wed him. Do you think he will ask for her hand?”
“Yea, and I think it will be soon. I do not believe Sir Maurin intends to sleep alone this winter.” Serena chuckled at the thought of the powerful Norman knight smitten with her friend.
Eawyn’s laughter echoed Serena’s.
“What about you, Eawyn?” And in a lower voice so low only Eawyn could hear, “Sir Geoffroi seeks your company oft and, when he is not here with you, I sometimes see him staring in the direction of the west manor. I am certain ’tis you he thinks of.”
“I know he pays court, for he does not hide it,” said Eawyn, “but it was not so long ago that Ulrich sat at my table and shared my bed. I still miss him.”
“He was a fine man, but it has been a long while since you lost him. Surely you want to marry again, for you must want children.”
“Yea, I do.”
“The man need not be a Norman if you find the prospect not to your liking. Still, there are few men who would make as good a husband as Sir Geoffroi. He is kind and he laughs much.” In spite of his being a Norman, Serena liked the blond knight, who but for his lack of a beard, appeared almost a Saxon. And she thought all the more highly of him because he had protected Eawyn from Sir Hugue.
“When the time comes for me to wed,” said Eawyn, “I would look with favor upon Sir Geoffroi’s suit. He is a man of honor, I know. Still, I think it may be awhile before I am ready.”
“Sir Geoffroi will be dismayed to hear it, but I know he will respect your wishes.”
“And you, m’lady,” said Eawyn, her blue eyes focused intently upon Serena, “how is it with you?”
“It is well, or as well as it can be, given all that lies between the Red Wolf and me. He still mistrusts me, I think. Sometimes I see him watching me from the corner of his eye as if he expects me to escape into the night.”
Eawyn smiled. “Mayhap he fears one of your arrows in his back,” she said, her eyes full of mirth.
“I think we are well past that, but it will take time before he trusts me fully.” Serena twisted her wedding ring, recalling the words inscribed inside. Why had he used the word love? Could there ever be love between them?
“The stew is ready, m’lady,” said the servant girl. “And the bread is just out of the oven. I have only to set the cheese and berries upon the table.”
“Then let us see the knights fed as they are no doubt famished,” said Eawyn in her usual cheerful manner.
With the help of the servant girl, Eawyn and Serena set the food before the knights and joined them for the repast, settling easily into conversation about the crops and tasks that must be accomplished before winter. It was apparent to Serena that Renaud had much to learn about rural life, for he thought only of hunting for deer and game and had only a vague idea of all that must be done to see the people through the harsh months. But she would help him and, in doing so, she would help the people of Talisand.
* * *
Renaud stood in the hall of the castle carefully folding the parchment the messenger had brought him that morning. He had been receiving word from William’s men, so the arrival of the messenger wearing the king’s livery did not surprise him. What he had not expected was the message itself, written by the king’s companion, William FitzOsbern, Earl of Hereford: The king was coming to Talisand with a part of his army. And he expected Renaud and his men to join him as he rode on to York. It could only mean one thing: the rebels in the north had made clear their intent.
He dreaded telling Serena.
“William is coming to Talisand for a visit, my lady,” he told her that afternoon.
Serena looked up from where she was bent over the gray goose feathers she was preparing to fletch into a new set of arrows. In his idle moments there had been times in the past when he had thought of a future with a wife sitting by the fire on an eve. Always the woman he envisioned plied her deft fingers pushing a needle through cloth, taking small straight stiches in the embroidery of some feminine design. Never had he considered his wife might sit worrying over the placement of goose feathers in arrow shafts. Though she was now a countess, Serena was more particular than his archers in the distinctive way she placed the feathers so her arrows would fly straight and true.
Her hands stilled and her violet eyes flashed in alarm. “Your king comes here? Wherefore?”
“I told you he would want to see his castle. And it seems he has business in the north. I do not believe he will be here long, but I thought you would appreciate the notice. It takes much to feed and entertain a king.” I’ll not dismay her with my being ordered to follow William to York. With Serena he was learning to take one hill at a time.
“His men? How many?”
“In addition to his retinue of knights and retainers, William is bringing some of his army. I cannot say how many, but I would plan on filling both the new hall and the old. And if that is not enough, William ever travels with tents. We can give the king our chamber and take one of the keep’s guest chambers.”
He could see from the frown on her face as she set her feathers aside that she was not happy about the news.
“I suppose I should have seen this day would come. I dread his being here but ’tis not something we can avoid, is it?”
“Nay, wife, it is not.”
Serena let out a sigh. “’Tis a good thing the bed cushions are finished. I will talk to Hunstan and Maggie about the rest of what must be done.”
* * *
A sennight later, Serena sullenly watched as William and his long column of men dressed in colorful livery rode two abreast into the bailey. A banner with two golden leopards on a red field waved in the wind and the sound of many horses filled the space between palisade and the manor. Thanks to a man standing watch on the top of the keep’s tower, they had warning of the king’s impending arrival.
Once in the bailey, the king and a few of those with him broke off from the mass of mounted knights and men-at-arms, dismounted and approached Renaud and Serena where they waited in front of the manor.
Not since the blessing of their marriage had her husband donned such fine apparel. He did not wear his mail or helm, nor the pelt of the wolf, but instead, his broad shoulders and lean body were clothed in a fine tunic of dark green Talisand wool embroidered with silver threads. At his waist was a belt of silver studded with gems, and his chestnut hair was tamed in anticipation of meeting his king. For her own clothing, she had decided to wear one of her new gowns and the head cloth, which now marked her as a married woman, was crowned with the circlet of gold and silver.
“Sire,” Renaud bowed, “Welcome to Talisand.”
The king smiled. “We think you look every bit our royal subject today, and not the wolf we know you to be, Lord Talisand.”
Renaud chuckled. “Ah Sire, ’tis merely a disguise for your benefit. Beneath the surface is the same snarling wolf you know w
ell.”
“We are counting upon it!” The king gestured to the richly dressed man who stood at his side. “You know Fitz, of course.”
“Aye, I do. Welcome to Talisand, Lord Hereford. How goes it in Herefordshire?”
“’Twould be better if I did not have that madman Eadric to contend with. Thank God he has retreated into Wales.”
“The one called ‘the Wild’?” Renaud inquired.
“Just so,” replied Lord Hereford.
Serena’s ears perked up at the name of the Saxon who still harassed the Normans in the south. She could not be sad about that unless it drew her husband to another battle.
The king turned his eyes upon her, and Renaud’s hand slipped around her shoulders, mayhap to remind her of her promise to show the king no dishonor. She was surprised at the king’s height, nearly as great as her husband’s, though he was burly where her husband was lean, like the wolf for which he was named. The Norman who was now a king held himself with an air of confidence she could hardly miss—a man who, as the bastard Duke of Normandy, thought naught of conquering an entire country. His piercing blue eyes were framed by short, sun-lightened brown hair beneath his golden crown. A not unattractive man except that she loathed him for what he had done to her family and her people.
“Sire,” said Renaud, “I would present to you my lady wife, Serena, Countess of Talisand.”
Because she had steeled herself to the encounter, Serena was able to curtsey before the king and Lord Hereford. But she did not utter a sound.
The king seemed not to notice. “Ah, we have given you a bride fair of face and form, Lord Talisand. And from the way you are looking at her, your bed must be ever warm.”
Lord Hereford chuckled.
Serena’s cheeks burned at the bold statement. Was that all she was to this king? A bed warmer for one of his knights? Anger rose within her at the Norman usurper, but she held her tongue and managed a slight smile for her husband’s benefit.
“Yea, Sire, you gave me a great boon,” Renaud agreed.
She knew her husband feared she would say something that would embarrass him, and she was sorely tempted to fling the king a bitter retort. But she had too much respect for Renaud to do so. Still, he must have sensed her anger in the tension flowing through her body for he was quick to move on to another subject.
Turning to one side, he gestured to the donjon behind them. “What think you of your castle, Sire?”
“We like its position with the river to its back, its waters filling the moat. And the keep looks from here to be large enough to house the men we will give you. We have with us a part of our army as well as Fitz’ men. The main group rode on to York.”
York? His men rode to York? It was as she feared. There would be a battle in the north.
Shooting her a glance that told her he’d seen her rising panic, Renaud turned toward the king. “Shall we go inside, Sire? I expect some refreshment is in order after your long journey.”
“Aye, we covet some of your country mead. The road was long and dust ridden.”
Renaud snapped his fingers and the waiting servants hurried to comply with their new lord’s unspoken command. The king’s party ascended the stairs to the keep at the top of the motte. The doors stood open, and the king and Renaud entered the hall, she and Lord Hereford following.
Within the hall, torches blazed and tables were set with a repast for the king and his retinue.
Renaud gestured to the stairs. “Your chambers are ready, Sire. And your baths will be ready shortly. I assume you will want to rest before the evening meal but we have some food ready now for your pleasure.”
Serena knew well it was her place to offer the king his comforts, but she was doing well just to be civil.
Gracious was a step too far.
* * *
The king and his men filled every available chamber in the castle and manor, the rest spilling into tents they erected for their comfort. Serena was relieved when her husband told her his men would hunt to add to Talisand’s stores of food. Yet, even with that, there was bread to bake and food to cook that was far above what they would ordinarily have had to provide so that the kitchens were filled with torchlight from before dawn to late at night.
The Norman army, or the part of it the king brought with him, was a constant source of worry. Renaud had to remind them that the female servants were not there for the taking. Sir Maurin nearly got into a fight with one of Lord Hereford’s men who thought Cassie fair game. Sir Alain protectively guarded Aethel, too, but no Norman would come near her with the bear-like knight in attendance. And Sir Geoffroi would not even allow Eawyn to leave the west manor. The Red Wolf’s knights were taking no chances with the women they had claimed as theirs.
The new hall was a splendid display of the Red Wolf’s accomplishments at Talisand. Tapestries, some of which were taken from the old hall and some her father had kept in storage, graced the now white washed walls. New benches, nearly the length of the room, were filled with both Normans and English. At the high table, the king in all his finery took the lord’s seat with Renaud on his right and Lord Hereford on his left. Sir Geoffroi seated himself on Lord Hereford’s other side. Serena was between her husband and Maugris, who the king reminded all, he had known as long as the Red Wolf.
“We are wondering how you have fared so far from Normandy, wise one,” the king mused aloud. “We still remember how you nearly swooned as you left the ship.”
“I was fully recovered after a week on firm ground, My Lord,” insisted Maugris. “Talisand is now my home and happily so. I do not expect to be at sea again.”
The king seemed pleased with that news, as was Serena. She would not like to see the old Norman, of whom she had become so fond, return to Normandy.
William leaned in to speak to Renaud. “Cospatric, you will recall, gave us much gold to secure the Earldom of Northumbria. It seems he has now joined Morcar and Edwin behind the banner of Edgar Ætheling in rebellion against us, dividing our bishops as well.”
“I thought Archbishop Ealdred supported you, Sire,” said Renaud, seemingly puzzled.
“He does, which is to his credit. But he was unsuccessful in his attempt to discourage the discontent in the north,” said the king. “The Bishop of Durham, we are not happy to see, supports the rebels against us.”
“They have not yet seen your army, Sire,” said Renaud with a wry grin.
Serena could hardly manage to stay in her seat as she thought about the Norman army marching on York.
“Nor our castles,” replied the king. “We erected some as we rode north from London. Warwick was the first. But there are more. Talisand’s castle will be one of many. And, with God’s help, I will see one in York before the month’s end.”
The talk of war in Northumbria made Serena’s restless stomach churn. She wondered if Steinar and the men of York were prepared for the Norman horde that would soon descend upon them.
Toward the end of the meal of roast pork, goose and fresh fish, conversation died as Rhodri stepped in front of the dais to entertain them with his harp. Surprisingly, the Norman king seemed to enjoy the Welsh music.
At Renaud’s insistence, Serena reluctantly agreed to sing for the king.
“The countess sings?” William asked as she slowly walked toward Rhodri, who sat in front of the central hearth. Candles and torchlight filled the new hall casting a warm glow on all the faces that now turned toward the two who would sing for the king. While the benches were filled mostly with Normans, there were English among the king’s men. Some of the old thegn’s men had also been invited to the meal.
“Aye, she does,” said Renaud, “as beautifully as a lark.”
“A lady of many talents,” said William. “What other pursuits does your fair wife enjoy, pray tell us?”
“She is gifted with a bow,” Renaud said with a look of amusement. “As fast and true a shot as my best archers.” At his words, Serena saw a smile spread across Maugris’s face where h
e sat at the high table.
“A she-wolf, then,” remarked the king, rubbing his chin with his fingers. And then with a grin, he slapped the wooden table. “A fitting mate for my wolf!” The king roared with laughter, apparently his own words humorous.
As Serena took her seat next to Rhodri, she glanced at her husband, wondering at his reaction. Then, with all eyes upon her, she began to sing the Welsh songs she loved.
* * *
A few days later, William ordered his men to make ready to leave. Renaud was not unhappy. Notwithstanding Serena’s calm demeanor during the days of the king’s visit, of which he was quite proud, he sensed ripples of unease flowing through her. That and her labors explained her fatigue.
She had worked hard to act the countess before the king, and was so exhausted in the evening, when he was finally able to take his leave of the king, he found her in their bed fast asleep. But knowing he was riding to battle, last night he’d awakened her to make love. Warm and willing, she had welcomed him into her arms. Their coming together had been brief, but passionate, and afterward, she had curled against him like a contented kitten.
“I am glad your king leaves, my lord,” she said as she watched the king’s men taking down the tents that lay outside the palisade. They stood together at the top of the motte watching the activity. “It will take Talisand some time to recover from so heavy a burden. Angus has had a hard time keeping up with the demands for his smith services. And Maggie and Cassie are so tired, they nearly fall asleep while pounding dough for the many loaves of bread that must be baked each morning.”
“It is an honor to entertain the king, Serena. Many would seek the privilege shown us.”
“Well, I am not one of them. I welcome only your company once they are gone.”
“Serena,” he spoke with a serious tone, dreading what was coming, “William expects me and my men to accompany him to York.”