The Red Wolf's Prize (2 page)

The wolf will hunt for the jewel
hidden among the stones, and if he finds it, his cubs will advise kings for
generations.

—Maugris’ vision during the crossing to England, September 1066

Chapter 1

The North of England, spring 1068

Serena contemplated her reflection in the small silvered
glass.

Soon I will be another woman. Soon I will have another
life.

While she could not change her violet eyes or her curves of
a woman full grown, her flaxen hair was another matter. Undoing her long plait,
she let the loose waves fall below her waist to shimmer in the early morning
sunlight streaming into her bedchamber through the open shutters.

With a sigh, she lifted her hand to touch the gilded frame
of the silvered glass. She could still hear her father’s voice when he told her
he had bought the extravagant gift from a Spanish merchant who claimed the
Moors had made it. No one at Talisand had ever seen such a magnificent wonder
before he brought it home to the manor. Tears came to her eyes as she
remembered the look on his face, the warm smile reflecting his love.

Her father had been her protector and teacher, a man of
great wisdom and a thegn dearly loved by his people. Deprived of his guiding
presence, and with her brother in Scotland, Serena was all too aware she alone
of her family was left at Talisand. Fear crept over her like a winter chill as she
remembered the messenger who had come with a writ from the Bastard King.

She was to become the bride of the new Norman lord of
Talisand.

Nay, I will not!

But how could she deny so fearsome a warrior as the knight
they called the Red Wolf?

Serena’s brow puckered in consternation. And what would
become of the other women at Talisand? Would not the Norman conquerors claim
them as spoils? Peasants fleeing the advancing horde the year before had spoken
of the knights’ villainy. Women were merely vessels to satisfy their lust.

Anger flared in her eyes staring back from the silvered
glass. She would not have it! The young women of Talisand would not fall victim
to the rampaging knights if she could help it.

But what choices were left? Some English women had taken the
veil, but she was not suited to the cloistered life and that would not be a
choice for the maidens at Talisand. But mayhap she could save the most
vulnerable.

The door opened and Cassie, her handmaiden, entered with her
mother, Maggie.

“’Tis ready, m’lady,” said Maggie, handing Serena a leather
flask. “I have made ye the dye from walnuts.”

Serena accepted the flask and poured the dark liquid into a
bowl.

“’Tis a shame to dye such beautiful hair,” remarked Maggie.

“She must, Mother, if she is to look the part of a servant,”
Cassie insisted. “’Tis nay just her speech and her clothes that make her stand
out. ’Tis her hair that tells all who she is—like a pale flame on a dark
night.”

Maggie nodded, resigned. “Then oil yer hands and the skin
around yer face, m’lady, before ye apply the dye. It will make yer hair brown
like mine, but ye will have to add more as yer hair grows. And remember to keep
yer hood up should it rain for water can make the dye run.”

“I will, Maggie, and thank you,” said Serena as she spread
the oil on her face and hands.

Cassie oiled her own hands and began to work the dye into
Serena’s hair. “I know the messenger said ye were to be the new lord’s wife,
but it might be well ye are leaving. The tales of the Normans’ brutality are
frightening. Ye must be safe.”

“To be sure,” echoed Maggie, “the Norman who comes isna a
man yer father would have chosen for ye. Mayhap it will be easier for us to
accept his yoke, knowing ye and yer brother are beyond his grasp and safe in me
own homeland.”

“I could not bear to take a Norman as husband,” Serena said
with firm conviction. Cassie poured the last of the dye onto Serena’s head and
she let the dark liquid drip from the wet strands into the bowl. She was glad
she would not have to color her brows. Like her lashes, they were already dark.
“It is not enough the Bastard from Normandy has taken my father and my country.
Now he would give my family’s lands to one of his knights.”

“If the traveling cottars’ words be true,” offered Cassie,
“the one who now claims Talisand is one who fought with the Bastard at
Hastings. He might even be the knight who slayed yer father, the thegn!”

“Yea, ’tis a hard time that has come upon the land,” said
Maggie, regret showing in her eyes, the same vivid green as her daughter’s.
Then shooting a glance at Cassie, she added, “When I think of the men the
Norman lord brings with him, I fear for me own daughter as well.”

“I want to go with Lady Serena,” the flame haired Cassie
blurted out while she squeezed the excess dye from Serena’s hair. “She will be
saving me and the others from certain rape.”

Maggie smiled sadly. “Aye, but will ye be safe?” She handed
the drying cloth to her daughter. “’Tis a long road ye travel. I worry for ye
both. The woods are full of thieves.”

“Nay, Maggie,” insisted Serena. “The woods are full of
fleeing Saxons.”

Cassie wrapped the drying cloth around Serena’s head. “Would
it not be better for us to flee than to stay and fall prey to the Bastard’s
men? Have we not heard the tales of their terrible deeds as they ravaged
Wessex?”

Maggie nodded, her countenance fallen. “Aye, I have heard of
the killing and the burnings. They even robbed churches. ’Tis a gift from God
we have escaped such, and only because Talisand lies so far north. I pray the
new Norman lord will not harm the villagers. They will now be his villeins,
caring for fields that are his.”

“I will worry for you,” said Serena fighting the urge to
stay even as she knew she must go.

“Ye must not worry about me and Angus,” said the cook. “The
Red Wolf will need me to feed his men and Angus to keep his horses shod.”

Cassie nodded to her mother. “Aye, ye both will be needed.”

“At least the young women I take with me will not be here to
face the Red Wolf and his men,” encouraged Serena. “We will search for my
brother and accept the sanctuary offered by Scotland’s king.” Serena finished
blotting the moisture from her dyed hair and unwrapped the drying cloth. “I
wish I could take all of the women, but not all want to go. Like you, Maggie,
some have husbands.”

“Do ye know where yer brother, the young master is, m’lady?”
asked Maggie.

“Steinar’s last message said he was at King Malcolm’s court
in Dunfermline, north of Edinburgh, where many Englishman gather, hoping for an
opportunity to return to fight for Edgar Ætheling, the true heir to the
throne.”

Maggie sighed. “At least ye and the young women will have
protectors traveling with ye. And I will pray ye stay safe.”

“We welcome your prayers,” said Serena. Looking into the
faces of the two women who were so dear to her, she added, “I am glad for all
you have done for me. Your friendship has meant more than your service. And
your company, Cassie, will be most welcome.” She thought of those women who
would travel with them, and the face of another rose in her mind. “Do you think
Aethel would want to go with us? Her knowledge of herbs would be welcome.”

“Aethel? Nay lass.” Maggie gave Serena a wry look. “That one
would lift her skirts for any Norman who would have her. She’ll nay be running
from them.”

“I suppose you speak the truth,” Serena admitted. “Since she
went to my father’s bed, she has not been the same.”

“Or ye just didna see what she really was all along,” chided
Maggie.

The words saddened Serena. It was true that after being
rejected by Theodric, the captain of Talisand’s guard, Aethel had changed. The
dark-haired beauty attracted many men, including Serena’s father, the lonely
thegn, but Aethel did not seem to be happy even with him.

“That leaves only Cassie and me and the three other women,”
said Serena. “Leppe and Alec will go with us, disguised as village cottars. Of
the Talisand fighting men that still remain after the slaughter at Hastings,
they are among the best and will be faithful to protect us.” Wanting to assure
Maggie they would have protection, she added, “Theodric and the other guards
will stay to defend Talisand, if need be. I have asked steward Hunstan to visit
the other manors to warn them of the Normans’ coming.”

“How soon do they arrive?” Maggie asked, glancing anxiously
in the direction of the main gate.

“I know not the day,” said Serena, “but I expect it will be
soon, so we must be away this hour. I fear I have waited too long as it is.”

Maggie nodded and looked at her daughter. “Send word as soon
as ye’re able.”

Cassie’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced her mother.
“I will.”

Blinking back her own tears, Serena sought to keep her voice
steady. “Do not worry for us, Maggie. I have my bow and my seax. We will be
well. And we will see you again, for I intend to return with Steinar to chase
the Normans from Talisand.”

Serena glanced once again at her reflection. Her hair now
bore the color of the brown stain and was nearly dry. She felt changed inside
as well as out.

“Ye look so different!” exclaimed Cassie as she formed the
newly dyed tresses into a long plait.

“Aye, she does,” said Maggie. “But the color does not hide
her beauty. Mayhap a plain tunic will help.” Maggie handed Serena a dark green
tunic, and she slipped it over her shift.

As the folds of the rough wool settled around her, she felt
her new life settle around her as well. The servant’s garment was a stark
contrast to the soft wool of the fine gowns she had worn as the Lady of
Talisand. She looked down at her ankles that showed beneath the hem. The
borrowed tunic did not fit well, either.

Seeing her shrug, Maggie said, “It will do ’til ye reach
Scotland.”

Serena sat on the chest at the end of her bed and pulled on
the woolen hose and soft leather half boots the female servants wore. Cassie
handed her a leather belt, which Serena wrapped around her waist. She secured
to it her seax, the single edged blade her brother had given her last
Christmastide. Grasping the polished wooden handle, she silently vowed to use
it if threatened.

“Let me help ye with yer cloak,” Cassie said, draping the
dark wool mantle around Serena’s shoulders and fastening it with a plain metal
brooch. “’Twill serve to keep ye warm against the night air.” Smiling, Cassie
took a step back and examined Serena’s disguise. “Ye make a convincing servant,
m’lady, dressed as ye are. Except ye’re too fine of feature. So remember to
keep yer head bowed and yer eyes down should we encounter any men. And since
yer speech is a wee bit proper, say nothing, lest they wonder if ye are truly
one of us.”

“I will try and do as you say, Cassie. In time, I might be
able to disguise my speech as well.” She would do whatever she must to escape
the plans the Normans had for her. “You will have to be my guide in this new
life.”

“It is time,” Maggie said, turning toward the door. “I will
have a word with Leppe and Alec afore ye go, though I know those two will
protect ye with their lives.”

* * *

An hour later, Serena left the manor to begin the journey
north. Seven walked along in silence: Serena and Cassie, three other women and
the two men. The morning mist still clung to the wild grasses under Serena’s
feet, dampening her leather boots. She was glad her borrowed tunic was as short
as it was, else her hem would also be wet.

When they reached the edge of the woods, Serena paused and
looked back. The sun cast its rays on Talisand, making the manor, hall and
thatch and wattle cottages appear to glow. To Serena, it was like something out
of a dream, like a village descended from heaven. The place of her home and her
heart and the memories of all she held dear.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and escaped down her cheeks. Would
she ever see her beloved Talisand again?

Garbed in a belted tunic and short brown cloak a shade
darker than his long hair and beard, Leppe gently touched her arm. “My lady, we
must hurry.”

She nodded and let him lead her away. Away from her past and
the dreams she had once for her future. Soon the fierce knight called the Red
Wolf would descend like a devastating storm to claim his spoils. Nothing she
could do would prevent it. Concern for her people weighed heavy on Serena’s
shoulders. The Red Wolf’s reputation was that of an undefeated warrior, as
vicious in battle as the animal whose fur he wore.

She prayed he would not harm the people he would need to
work the land.

It was late afternoon when Renaud and his knights crested the
last hill, and he raised his hand halting the column of men. Reining in his
horse, he looked west and paused to consider the sight before him.

The sun was still shining for the days had grown longer with
spring. Renaud gazed over the wide valley, green from the rain. Colorful wild
flowers and clusters of birch trees dotted the sloping land where white, wooly
ewes and their lambs grazed. Ahead in the distance he could see a large manor
house next to what appeared to be a great hall, all surrounded by a palisade of
wooden poles sharpened to a point. Behind the manor ran the River Lune, the
name he recalled when he was first told of Talisand. A village lay to the
north, the cottages with their thatched roofs appearing golden in the afternoon
sun. From where he sat astride Belasco, dense woods to the north of the village
extended as far as the eye could see.

It was more than he had expected, the peace so real it was
tangible, and a world away from the harsh sounds of London and the destruction
in the south. He could still see the faces of the Saxon dead in the battles he
had fought. As much as he wanted to forget, even in this peaceful place, they
haunted him. With a deep sigh, he focused on the river. The wide blue riband of
water flowed behind the
demesne
, acting like a moat to protect the manor
and its outbuildings.

Idly stroking the pelt of the wolf that lay over his
hauberk, a fierce pride rose in his chest as he realized these were now his lands
by William’s decree.

“There lies the prize William has given me. There lies
Talisand.”

“Yea, you have done well, Ren,” agreed Geoff, “and now you
are an earl besides.”

Renaud smiled at his friend then turned to his other side to
see the pale blue eyes of Maugris.

The wise one stared back from where he sat astride his
palfrey, his silver hair blowing across his wrinkled forehead. He nodded. “Yea,
my lord,
there
you will find your prize.”

“Glad I am, Ren, that we will arrive in ample time for the
evening repast,” Geoff said as he shifted in his saddle.

It had been a long day, one of many with meager rations, and
Renaud knew his men were eager to arrive at their destination. “I see you are
ever mindful of your next meal, Geoff. For you, Talisand is merely another
place to dine.” He laughed aloud.

Geoff grinned sheepishly.

“Oh, and it might be best not to call me by your pet name,
at least not in the presence of the new vassals, or they will think the stories
of the Red Wolf are mere legend and will disregard my commands.”

“As you will,
my lord
,” Geoff acknowledged,
emphasizing the manner of address that was new.

The wind rose and Renaud heard his banner flapping behind
him. A grunt from Sir Alain
de Roux, the knight who bore his standard,
caused Renaud to turn in his saddle. The wind had rendered the scarlet wolf on
the midnight blue field a snarling beast. The burly knight struggled to gain
control of the waving banner.

Renaud chuckled. “Sir Alain, will you wrestle that wolf ’til
gloaming?”

The knight, whose size and coloring always reminded Renaud
of a large brown bear, just smiled. A man of few words, Sir Alain was steady
and reliable, trusted to watch the Red Wolf’s back.

With one last tug at the cloth, the knight reined in the
standard.

Renaud looked beyond the huge knight to the rest of the
company. Some men were new. The lands of Talisand were rumored to be rich. For
that reason, as well as his success in battle, many had been eager to accompany
him when he had left London. Behind his squire, Mathieu, and his five knights,
rode the men-at-arms and retainers, along with the craftsmen they’d brought
with them to begin work on the castle William expected to be finished before
summer’s end.

Carts carried the tents and supplies they had brought with
them, including casks of wine. Spotting Sir Hugue, Renaud was reminded of the
few mercenaries who had joined them. He would have to keep a close watch on the
men he knew less well. They, too, had come seeking a place in William’s England
and in the den of his wolf.

“
Bon
.” Renaud faced forward and raised his hand. “
Pour
Talisand
!”

At the clenching of his knees, Renaud’s stallion moved
forward. The column followed, moving
en masse
.

Renaud’s mind filled with the faces of the jealous barons
and knights at William’s court who had whispered the Red Wolf was the king’s
pet, a knight so favored his requests were never denied. In their jealousy,
they had failed to see the reason for the king’s favor. Renaud never acted
without first consulting William in private. Then, too, he knew well the mind
of his sire.

There was only one thing that could have moved Renaud from
William’s side—his dream of having his own lands. As a younger son of a Norman
nobleman, Renaud had known he would have to fight for any lands he would claim
as his own. And fight he had, both in Normandy and England, for there had been
rebellions in the south after Hastings.

Aware that Renaud’s devotion ran deep, but also knowing of
his knight’s dream, William had finally sent Renaud away with orders to take
and hold Talisand, to raise a castle that would be a guard against the king’s
enemies to the north and a symbol to the English of his domination.

William’s last words came to his mind. “Take as your wife
the heiress of Talisand and raise up sons to serve my heirs.”

“What have you heard of the Lady Serena?” Renaud asked Geoff
as they drew nearer to the manor, and the bleating sheep scattered before their
powerful horses.

Geoff seemed to ponder the question. “When you were granted
Talisand, I heard the men at court whispering the Red Wolf had done well, that
the lady is rumored to be fair of face with hair as pale as the moon. Though at
seventeen summers, she will be older than most girls at her marriage. Earl
Morcar, who went with William to Normandy last year, spoke of her as if
describing a vision.”

“It would matter naught to me if the lady’s face was as
plain as the side of a stable,” Renaud replied. “William has commanded she be
my wife and so she shall be. Have you heard aught else?”

“Nay, though I assume as the daughter of a thegn, she can
manage a household.”

“It is good we tarried so long in London,” said Renaud
thoughtfully. “Like the king, we have learned some of the barbarous English
tongue. The serfs will not be familiar with our Norman French. This far north,
I would not expect any of them to speak the language of William’s court.”

“She is supposed to be quite good with a bow,” Maugris
interjected under his breath, just loud enough for Renaud to hear. “’Tis
unusual.”

Renaud raised a brow at the old one’s words. “And how would
you know that, wise one?”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Maugris’ mouth. “I
have ways of knowing many things, my lord.”

Renaud smiled. “Yea, you do, and your counsel is always
welcome. Mayhap you can help me understand these people, Maugris. I expect they
will be hostile to the idea of a Norman overlord, though I have little patience
to give them. Still, we must find a way to make them work for us.”

“That is one reason I have come, my lord. Your older
brothers have your father’s counsel, and you will have mine. As I once served
your father, now I serve you. I do not expect to return to Normandy. My fate
lies with the Red Wolf and his cubs.”

“I am glad of it, Maugris. I would miss your old face were
you to have stayed behind at my father’s
donjon
, though I am glad your
countenance is no longer green as it was on the crossing.”

“I do not favor the sea, my lord, or boats upon it, as you
know.” The old man’s face bore a grin telling Renaud that the unpleasant voyage
and his
mal de mer
were now consigned to memory.

Having crossed the large swath of pasture, they arrived at
the palisade. Renaud was unsurprised to see a crowd of villagers lined up on
either side of the open gate, curious to get a look at their new lord. The
faces of the young children, particularly the boys, were agog at the knights,
enthralled with the hauberks they wore, the lances they carried and the
powerful horses they rode. But the faces of the men, as Renaud had expected,
wore scowls and hostile grimaces. Obviously the stories of the Normans, and the
tale of the one called the Red Wolf, had traveled far.

Renaud and his men passed through the open gate and
dismounted in the yard in front of the manor. Mathieu gathered Belasco’s reins
while still leading the powerful black destrier Renaud reserved for battle, and
led the two horses toward the stable.

“See if you can find the one responsible for the running of
the manor,” Renaud said to Geoff. “Surely they must have a seneschal. I know
you will naturally want to determine when we might have a meal.” Glancing down
at the mud that had spattered his leggings, he added, “I’d like to bathe before
I meet the Lady Serena.”

“Yea, my lord,” Geoff said respectfully in the English
tongue, darting a glance at the watching villagers as he walked toward the door
of the manor.

Renaud waited for his men to draw near. When he spoke, it
was in Norman French. “Sir Maurin, you speak some of the English tongue. Round
up the thegn’s men and see they swear fealty to me. Any who do not must leave.”
To the rest he said, “The usual rules apply concerning the women. Take care
lest you consume too much of their ale in these first days. Though we are
expected, I cannot predict our reception. Many will yet be unhappy a Norman
lord has replaced their thegn. It would be best if you could learn to speak
their language. Do not flaunt the power we have over them lest they hate us all
the more. In time, they will accept their fate or rue the day.”

Maugris whispered in his ear a reminder that the men would
be concerned with their comforts. Raising his head, Renaud said, “I’ve sent Sir
Geoffroi to see about a meal and lodging for the night, but there may not be
room enough for all of you to set your pallets in the hall. Sir Geoffroi and I
will lodge within the manor. The remainder will sleep in the hall or in tents
until the castle is finished. Knights have first choice.”

The men nodded, their faces telling Renaud they were
pleased. The road had been long and the weather not always fair. Spring had
brought heavy rains and they were often soaked to the skin while traveling
north. Hard biscuits and dried meat were their only fare when their pace did
not allow them to hunt. Now his men would have hot food to warm their bellies
and more than soggy ground to lie upon. He prayed Talisand possessed a decent
cook.

Leaving his men to their duties, and with Maugris following,
Renaud headed toward the manor’s entrance. Many eyes followed him. Whispers
from the young lads told him his fierce reputation in battle had preceded his
coming. At the door of the manor, he paused and turned. This time he spoke in
English as he addressed the villagers.

“I am Sir Renaud de Pierrepont, now Earl of Talisand by King
William’s decree. I come in peace. If you show me the same, we will do well.”

The English remained silent, their stern faces disclosing
little. Were they surprised to find he knew some of their language? Whether
they yet accepted their fate was not clear, but it mattered little. They were
now his serfs and had no choice but to follow his orders.

Inside the manor, Renaud allowed his eyes to adjust to the
light from the small windows, their shutters open, as he surveyed the interior.
What he saw surprised him. Colorful tapestries depicting animals and plants
draped the whitewashed walls. In between them were iron sconces that would hold
torches at eventide. The furnishings were elaborate even for a thegn’s
dwelling, making Renaud think the old lord must have traveled or traded well.
Many of the objects he saw were from distant lands, the kind of things he had
seen in Rouen and his home in Saint Sauveur.

In the entry a brazier radiated heat, sending a thin column
of smoke wafting up to a hole in the roof. A small woven rush mat lay in the
center of the space and there was a bench placed to one side. In front of him,
on the left, stairs ascended to the floor above where an open corridor with a
half railing ran in front of several doors.

To the right of the stairs under the upper story was an
entrance to another corridor. From the savory smells coming from that
direction, he judged it to lead to the kitchen.

On his right, a wide opening in the wall led to the large
timbered hall he had seen from afar, the two buildings having been joined.
Peering through the opening, he saw two long trestle tables set upon the floor
that was covered with what appeared to be clean rushes. The benches, he was
pleased to discover, would seat all his men. A raised dais, the place the thegn
would have taken his meals, was set at a right angle to the tables. In the
middle of the hall was a stone hearth.

All he observed was clean and neat. It cheered him to think
that Talisand was well kept by the lady of the manor, soon to be his bride.
Mayhap it was not a bad thing if she were fair of face, as Geoff had said. If he
had to look upon her each day, he would prefer a pretty woman to a plain one.

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.”