The Red Wolf's Prize

by Regan Walker

  His gray eyes studied her, concern showing in their depths. “I would you had not come, Serena. Battle is no place for a woman, much less my wife.”

  She was unsurprised by his declaration. “I could not do otherwise, you know that.”

  “Aye, so I have realized.”

  “What news from your king?” she asked. “Has William had his fill of vengeance on the Northumbrians?”

  He let out a breath. “Fortunately, the short battle and the torching of a part of the town have resulted in a surrender of the city’s keys. Now William turns his attention to a new castle.”

  “Aye, that would be his next move,” she said averting her gaze.

  “Serena,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms and looked into her eyes. “I told you on the day the priest blessed our marriage that I wanted only love between us. Would it be so hard to forget the rancor you have for William and look to the future? Should Steinar recover, I will provide a home for him. Your brother will always be welcome at Talisand.”

  She let out a deep sigh, knowing his words were wise. “Aye, I know I must. But it is hard, my husband.” Then looking into his eyes, she said, “For the sake of our son, I will try to forget.”

  “Our son? You speak of a son as if he had already been born.”

  She let him see the smile that came to her lips as she thought of the babe growing within her. “’Twill nay be long, my lord, for I am with child.”

  Elation, then anger flitted across her husband’s face as if the two emotions warred within him. “You came to York knowing you carried my child?”

  So it was to be anger. “Aye. I could do no less knowing the two men I love most in the world would be here.”

  He stared at her for a moment. She hoped he could see the love in her eyes.

  Recognition dawned. “You love me?”

  “Yea, I do.” She smiled, thinking of the ring on her finger, remembering the words inscribed inside. “I suppose I should have mentioned it afore this.”

  “You might have.” He drew her more tightly to his powerful chest and she crossed her hands at his nape. He gently pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, Serena.”

  A feeling of great happiness welled up inside her. She had never thought to hear those words from the Norman who wed her out of duty to his king. But she had hoped.

  He drew back and put his hand on her still flat belly, looking amazed. “A son for Talisand,” he said smiling. He kissed her again. “My wayward English wife,” he said as his lips lifted from hers. “I should be scolding you, but I would rather carry you to yon meadow and make love to you. But the babe….”

  She smiled, feeling his rising passion pressing into her belly. “I am certain the babe is not so large we must worry about your lovemaking. And, I think we can find a better place than a meadow, my lord. I trust not your knights to leave us be.”

  Chapter 24

  Several days later, Renaud led his entourage through the gates of Talisand, as he shouted orders for help with the litters. Their slower pace had lengthened the trip, but it was necessary for the sake of the wounded and his determination to assure his unborn child was not jostled overmuch.

  From where he dismounted, Renaud saw Sir Geoffroi near the back of the column helping Serena down from her white palfrey. She had insisted on riding next to her brother’s litter, though Steinar slept most of the time, as did Sir Maurin.

  Waiting in front of the manor with anxious faces were Maggie, her daughter Cassie, the dark-haired Aethel and Sir Niel. Renaud handed Belasco’s reins to Eric, then turned to the small group.

  “We have wounded, but no deaths,” he said, answering their unspoken question. “Sir Maurin and Serena’s brother, Steinar, are carried upon litters.” Gasps sounded from Cassie and her mother as they covered their mouths.

  “Sir Alain?” Aethel asked her brows drawn together.

  “The bear has a new scar not unlike Sir Niel’s,” he said glancing at the young knight, “but otherwise he is well. Look for him near the rear of the column; he guards Sir Maurin.”

  The dark-haired Aethel and the redheaded Cassie took off running.

  “How bad is Steinar, my lord?” asked Maggie. “I raised him as if he were me own son.”

  “He took a sword in the leg. The wound is serious. It will be some time before we know whether he or Sir Maurin will heal. At least they are home now.”

  “Aye, my lord. They be home.” He knew the woman’s words were spoken in recognition that Talisand was home to both Norman and English and he was grateful. Briefly, he watched as she walked in the direction that her daughter had run, leaving him alone with Sir Niel.

  “All is well at Talisand?” he asked the young knight.

  “Aye, my lord. Hunstan saw to the manor and lands and Theodric and I managed the remaining work at the castle and the men-at-arms you left as guard. We’ve food ready should you want a meal and beds for the wounded.”

  Renaud shed his gloves and waited for Serena who was coming toward him with two men carrying Steinar’s litter. Behind them Sir Alain and Leppe carried Sir Maurin’s stretcher. Cassie held the sleeping knight’s hand and Aethel followed her.

  Much had changed since he’d come to Talisand. In their grief for the wounded, they were forging a new people, neither Norman nor English, but with the strength of both.

  * * *

  “The king comes!” shouted the watchman from the top of the keep, telling Serena that William had returned to Talisand. Renaud had given her warning, but still her nerves were on end and her stomach was unsettled as her mind rebelled. The king would once again sleep under her roof. They had only been back for a sennight and now they must again entertain him! For Renaud’s sake, she would try to be gracious.

  From the top of the motte, she watched the line of Norman knights and retainers in their bright colored livery and waving banners flow through the gates to fill the bailey.

  “It would be best if we greeted him below, Serena,” said Renaud as he took her elbow. They descended the steps together and crossed the bridge.

  “I like it not, husband. Steinar is only now able to smile. Can you imagine what he will say when I tell him the Norman who calls himself king is sheltered in his home?”

  “’Tis our home, Serena. And I worry more about what William would say were he to know I harbor one of the York rebels.”

  “Then do not tell him. Surely he will not tarry long.”

  By the time the king approached the bridge leading over the moat, Serena and Renaud were waiting for him.

  “Sire,” Renaud bowed before the king, “welcome back to Talisand.”

  William, wearing mail and a scarlet cloak fastened with a gold brooch, dismounted with ease, his blue eyes shining. Was it with pride at his recent victory over her countrymen?

  She had to admit he was a vigorous man. He had the look about him of one whose orders were never questioned, a man who did not just come to rule England, as others had, but to change it forever.

  “We have wine to refresh you, Sire,” Renaud said, “and tonight the meal you will be served in the castle’s hall will provide the best of Talisand’s food.”

  The king’s gaze bore into her eyes. She raised her chin, determined not to cower before the Bastard who had claimed England.

  “We look forward to enjoying your hospitality, my lord,” said the king. “And that of your lady.” He looked at her. “We still remember your lovely voice, my lady, on the occasion of our last visit.”

  Serena dipped a modest curtsey to the king but resented that she had been required to sing for him. Would she again?

  * * *

  Renaud knew none of his English villeins were happy about William’s return, and certainly not his English wife. But he could not very well deny his sire the tribute that must be paid to one’s king.

  Glancing to his right where Serena sat with him at the high table, he was pleased she had accepted her role as chatelaine, assuring the dinner set before the king w
as a rich bounty of Maggie’s best dishes. He would have to bestow a special gift on the cook for all her labors.

  Of the king’s trusted men, Turstin FitzRolf, who had fought with them at Hastings, had joined the king on the dais. Renaud sat on the king’s right with Serena and Maugris. Sir Geoffroi and Eawyn sat on the other side of FitzRolf. Since Renaud knew William enjoyed Maugris’ musings, he made certain the wise one was present. Sir Maurin, who might otherwise have been included, was still abed recovering.

  The meal began with a broth of carrot and ginger accompanied by rich brown bread, butter and honey. Wooden platters laden with roast lamb spiced with cumin and mint, and fish baked with coriander and bay leaf, soon followed. The spices, Serena had told him, were ones her father brought to the manor. Venison was served, as well, bathed in a dark sauce that rendered the deer meat succulent. Peas boiled in water and wine, sweet to the taste, joined the other dishes. Renaud knew William was pleased for he loved to eat as much as Sir Geoffroi.

  “’Tis a welcome feast you have set before us,” said the king. “We thank you, Lord Talisand, for our travels here did not see such grand fare.”

  “We could do no less for you, Sire.”

  As the meal wore on, Renaud noticed the king studying Serena. Leaning across Renaud, he asked her, “Have you heard, my lady, of our great victory in York?”

  “Aye, I have heard.” Serena said in a flat voice.

  The king obviously had something in mind as he rubbed the fingers of one hand over his chin and his blue eyes narrowed on Serena. His brown hair, golden in places from the sun, showed beneath his crown making him look regal, every bit the king he had become.

  William’s eyes shifted to Renaud. “We have heard tale of a woman felling one of our Norman knights at York with an arrow. What say you to that strange story, lord wolf?”

  Renaud hesitated in answering the king’s question. Did William know Serena had been at the battle?

  From beside him, Serena spoke. “If the king would know the truth of it, I slayed Sir Hugue. He was a man without honor. Men like him are a blight on our lives.”

  “My lady speaks the truth,” Renaud interjected. “The mercenary was dismissed from my service but apparently harbored a grudge. He attacked me on the battlefield, and when I stumbled over a body, my wife, hidden in the trees, came to my rescue.”

  “You, my lady?” said the king, incredulous. “It was your arrow my knights speak of?”

  “Aye, one of them. I shot him in the neck, and would do it again. He did much to harm the women of Talisand.”

  “Sire,” Renaud interjected, “you should know that Sir Hugue fought with Morcar, not your army.”

  The king looked puzzled. “How did a Norman come to fight with the Mercian earl?”

  “I know not. But I suspect it was for revenge.”

  “Mayhap we are glad the mercenary is dead,” declared the king, “especially since your lady spared our wolf the rogue’s blade. Still, we find your wife unusually blood thirsty for a woman.” The king’s eyes bored into Serena.

  Renaud was worried when she sat up and returned the king’s stare. “It was not the only arrow I shot that day, My Lord,” said Serena proudly. “I slayed other Normans at York to save my brother.” Renaud was shocked Serena would reveal such information to the king after she had cautioned him not to reveal Steinar’s identity. But then he saw the glimmer in Serena’s eyes and noted the honey that coated her words. She was enjoying her recitation of the Normans she had killed at York.

  “You would be proud to slay my knights, my lady?” William asked indignantly.

  “Aye, My Lord, to save my brother, I would slay your whole army!”

  “We demand to know what happened to this brother who fought against us!” insisted the king.

  “He lives but lies gravely wounded in a chamber above us,” she said matter-of-factly as a shadow of pain crossed her beautiful face.

  Renaud opened his mouth to defend her lest his king seek retribution for all she had done, but William’s outstretched hand stilled his voice.

  The king’s gaze narrowed on Serena. “You harbor a rebel in this very demesne—the castle we gave to our knight?”

  Serena stood, raising her chin. “This is my brother’s home as well as mine, My Lord. He is welcome here.”

  Renaud could see William’s temper had been roused and dreaded what was coming.

  The king stood and pounded the table. “We demand you turn over this enemy of ours!”

  “I will not!” Serena shouted back. “Nor do I regret the Norman lives I have taken to protect those I love.”

  Renaud had heard enough. Rising from the table, he faced his sovereign. “Sire, my wife has served you well for I would not be standing here had she not felled Sir Hugue. Could I do otherwise than to give her and her brother my protection?”

  The king huffed and sat down, taking a long draw from his goblet. Then he let out a loud, belly laugh. “Ha! The Norman wolf defends his English she wolf! You see what we have accomplished, FitzRolf?” he remarked to the silent Norman at his side, “our wolf’s mate slays his enemies and those of her brother!”

  FitzRolf smiled, nodding.

  Addressing Renaud, the king said, “Your fellow knights will be teasing you in London, lord wolf. First the warrior priest, now the knight whose lady’s arrows slay his enemies. You have given them much fodder for talk.” The king laughed heartily. “’Tis just what this England needs, we think—a bonding of our knights with the fair maids of the land. Aye, and we would have more of it!”

  “A good result from your wise command, My Lord,” said Maugris.

  The king smiled at the old man. “We are pleased you agree.” Then to Serena, “Be seated fair lady. We are not currently displeased with you, because you defended your Norman husband. Instead, we have decided you may keep your rebel brother. But your husband must assure us this brother of yours will not fight against us in future, and that you will henceforth take up no arms against our army.”

  Renaud bowed his head to William, relieved his sire’s anger had been turned. Taking Serena’s hand, he pulled her into her seat. “You have my assurance, Sire, and my gratitude.”

  “And the lady’s?” asked William looking at Serena.

  “Aye,” said Serena and she turned to Renaud and bestowed upon him a glorious smile. “To please my husband who has honored me, I agree to all your demands.”

  Renaud’s heart soared.

  William winked at Maugris. The wise one smiled back his approval. “She will bear strong sons to serve you, O King.”

  “We trust you see the future correctly, Maugris,” said the king, “but as a token of the lady’s gratitude for our mercy, we would have her sing!”

  * * *

  Serena stood in the bailey as the king mounted his Spanish stallion and waved good-bye to her and Renaud. She was glad to see him leave.

  “He will not soon visit us again, I think,” said her husband, putting his arm around her shoulder and drawing her close. “That should please you, wife.”

  Serena wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled into his gray eyes as his chestnut hair blew about his face in the rising wind. Remembering the way he had defended her to his king the night before, she said, “You please me, my lord.”

  He bent to kiss her and she breathed in his earthy, masculine scent. “And you please me, Serena. Mon Dieu, how I love you!”

  Epilogue

  Christmastide 1068

  Serena stood at the top of the motte, surveying the bailey that had seen so much rain in the weeks leading up to Christmastide. At least it had not snowed last night, though frost had covered the ground that morning. The pale sun that had risen this day did not bring much warmth.

  She drew her woolen cloak tightly around her against the chill and rubbed her growing belly feeling the child move again. Her thoughts drifted idly toward spring when the flowers would return.

  It would be her time to give birth.

 
In the bailey below, the harsh sound of wood clashing against wood disturbed the winter quiet as Mathieu and Jamie sparred with practice swords. A short distance away Steinar sat on a cask watching the lesson. His leg had healed but he limped and often used a walking stick, especially when treading rough ground. Her brow wrinkled in worry for him. He was bitter and discouraged. Who could blame him?

  Rhodri sauntered through the gate with his bow and arrows slung over his shoulder and joined Steinar to watch the swordplay. “When you finish training him to the blade, Mathieu,” he yelled over the sounds of mock battle, “I will train him to the bow.”

  Jamie’s face lit up as he blocked a blow from Mathieu’s wooden sword. “Aye, the bow next!”

  Serena heard her husband approach behind her. Wrapping his arms around her middle between her breasts and swollen belly, he said, “In a year’s time, Mathieu will be ready to be a knight and Jamie can become my squire.”

  “He would like that,” she said, laying her hands over his. The feeling of warmth between them had not dimmed in the months since York. Their love had only grown stronger. Renaud had been most gracious to Steinar and the two men had found a semblance of rapport between them, avoiding the difficult subjects that would have brought on an argument. For that Serena was grateful.

  Seeing Cassie stride through the yard to the stable where Sir Maurin had gone a short while ago, Serena smiled at the memory of the weddings that had taken place. As she now reflected upon them, she should not have been surprised. Maugris had grinned in reply to her wondering at so many, telling her he had seen them in his visions.

  First there was Sir Alain and Aethel, to the surprise of many. In the weeks following York, the herb woman had tended the knight’s wounded face, and they had become inseparable. When they wed, Serena allowed them to make their home in the manor Renaud had given her. After weeks abed, Sir Maurin had recovered, and Cassie and he had claimed the priest’s blessing. They now lived in the main manor. Both women had recently declared they were carrying their husbands’ babes. With the coming of summer, Talisand would be full of new life. Mayhap in time, even Sir Geoffroi and Eawyn would wed.