The Red Wolf's Prize (10 page)

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.”

“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.

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 you 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.”