The Red Wolf's Prize (9 page)

“Would you want to see the chapel?” Serena asked as they
left the smith’s workshop.

Renaud looked at her disbelieving. “Talisand has a chapel?”

“Yea, a proper stone chapel. The old lord observed many on
his travels and wanted his people to have a place both to worship and to keep
the holy days.”

“Where is it?” Maugris inquired.

“Just a short walk from the end of the village. We can
return to see the other workshops, but as long as we are here, the chapel is
best seen now.”

“Lead on.” The Red Wolf gestured them forward.

The chapel was nestled in a copse of oak trees. A mood of
calm spread over Serena as it always did when she came to the beautiful
structure built by her father’s men. They entered through two heavy oaken
doors, each with an iron ring handle. Inside, small arched windows on the side
of the structure in the shape of a cross allowed narrow shafts of light to fall
on the stone floor.

As she walked down the center toward the nave, the sun cast
its meager rays across her path in failed warmth. It had always been cool in
the chapel. She looked up to the window at the far end of the nave, the one
that had brought her father so much pride. The arched opening was large in
comparison to the scale of the chapel. Small pieces of heavy glass separated by
strips of metal revealed the green of the trees outside. The walls of the
chapel were painted in bright colors of red, blue, yellow and orange depicting
Bible scenes that reminded the people of their faith.

Even for Talisand, the chapel was unusual, and for Serena,
it was a very special place. She had come here to pray for her father and
Steinar and for all the men of Talisand who had gone to fight for King Harold.
It had been here she had wept ’til there were no tears left when she’d learned
of her father’s death. And it was here she had one day hoped to wed a man of
her father’s choosing.

She forced back the tears that could so easily fall. “’Tis
quite beautiful, my lord, is it not?” she asked in a weak voice.

With a look of wonder on his face, Maugris gazed at the
large window and the brightly colored paintings covering the whitewashed walls.
As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “’Tis beautiful. A fine place for a
wedding.”

“Ah but that would require a bride, oh wise one,” said the
Red Wolf in a sarcastic tone, disrupting Serena’s mood.

Maugris seemed unaffected. “I dare say one will be found, my
lord.”

Serena glanced back at the two men and wondered at the
curious exchange. Were they talking about her, the Lady of Talisand? Or, might
he have given up the hunt and now sought another? She felt a sudden chill as
she considered what might be her fate were he to wed another. Would she lose
all she had hoped to regain? Perplexed, and becoming increasingly
uncomfortable, she walked toward one side of the small chapel and out of the
corner of her eye saw the Norman knight run his hand over a wooden railing.

“Excellent workmanship. ‘Tis walnut, is it not?

“Yea, my lord,” she answered. “The wood comes from
Talisand’s forests.”

“I would not have expected it in a small village.” He
sounded surprised. “Is Talisand blessed with artisans and masons?”

“We have a man who is trained in masonry, my lord, and some
who work in wood, but the old lord also brought skilled workers and craftsmen
to Talisand to construct the chapel. They worked with him to conceive the plans
for what he wanted.”

“’Tis a fine job,” said Maugris.

“Does the chapel come with a priest?” asked the Red Wolf.

Serena fought a smile. Of course her father would have seen
to a priest. “Talisand shares a priest with other villages. Father Bernard
travels among them, hearing confessions, saying mass and blessing marriages.
Even when he is gone, the people come here to pray so the chapel is always
open.” She was glad the priest was away. He was aware she was to marry the
Norman and would not have approved her deception. She had decided to stay long
enough to see how the Red Wolf treated her people, but the time was growing
short for her to leave.

Maugris faced the knight. “You have a need to see the
priest?”

“Nay,” the Red Wolf hastened to answer, “but a warrior never
knows when he’ll have need of one so I am glad he is often here.”

Serena knew well the meaning of his words. A knight would
think of needing a priest. Many of Talisand’s men had died in battle, unshriven
of their sins. The thought of the Norman knight needing a priest for last rites
gave her pause. She was surprised to realize she would feel regret at his
death.

Maugris nodded. “’Tis true, my lord. I recall that priest at
the church in
Dives-sur-Mer
who prayed for you and William’s other
knights before you left for England. Mayhap his prayer gave you victory. Certainly
God, who raises up kings, was with the duke that day.”

The Red Wolf lifted his head and stared at the glass window,
a frown appearing on his face. “Since you brought up the subject of prayer,
Maugris, when he returns you might ask Talisand’s priest to pray we will soon
find my lady, before I am forced to ask William for another.”

“Those prayers have been said, my lord, at least by me,”
answered the old man, “and I am confident they will be answered.”

Serena was suddenly anxious to leave the chapel. “Would you
want to see Talisand’s weavers?”

“Do you mean the women of the village?” asked Maugris.

“I had in mind two who are most special.” Serena walked to
the door of the chapel, leading them back into the warmth of the afternoon sun.

As they returned to the main part of the village, the same
boys who had earlier stared at the Norman knight followed them.

The old man drew his lord aside to show him some damage to
one of the thatched roofs. A boy with sun streaked brown hair ran up to Serena.

“M’lady,” he said, his dark eyes beseeching while he tugged
on her sleeve, “I’ve something to tell ye.” Fortunately, the boy spoke hardly
above a whisper.

She whispered in return as she took his hand and squeezed
it. “’Tis Sarah, Beorn, remember?”

“Oh,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand, his eyes
bright and a smile on his lips. “I forgot.” Then taking a deep breath, he began
again. “Sarah, have ye heard about Dunn’s father? He died two days ago and now
the cottage and land will nay be Dunn’s, but will belong to the Norman lord.”

Sarah looked to where the Red Wolf and his wise man were
talking amongst themselves before she turned back to the boy. Letting out a
breath, she said, “Yea, I knew of Dunn’s father’s passing. Dunn and his mother
may remain in the cottage. But all of Talisand, its lands and manors, now
belong to the Red Wolf, Beorn. The Norman king has claimed England for his own
and doles out parts of it to his barons and knights. The Red Wolf is one of
them.”

“I like it not,” said Beorn, a frown creasing his young
forehead.

She sighed. What could she say? “I know. I feel the same.
But ’tis the way of it now.” She did not want to give him hope the situation
might change though she held onto that slim thread of hope herself.

Serena let go of the boy’s hand, and he rejoined his
companions. Beorn thought she could work miracles. Much as she wanted to, she
could not.

She returned to the two men. When their conversation ended,
she directed them to the cottage where a short piece of cloth hung over the
open door announced to all in the village the weavers were working.

“Good day to you, Ingrith, Annis,” she said as she led the
men through the door. “‘Tis Sarah and I’ve brought with me the new lord and his
wise man to see your fine work.” She turned to the Red Wolf who was standing
close behind her, his nearness unsettling. “Ingrith and Annis weave for the
whole village, my lord, nay just themselves.”

“Talisand has women who weave for the others?” he asked with
a puzzled look.

“All the women can weave,” Serena proudly replied. In any
village the women would know how to weave cloth. “But Ingrith and Annis became
so skilled at weaving the fine wool of Talisand’s sheep that the old thegn
encouraged them to do only that. ’Twas he who had this workshop built for them.”
Dark-haired Ingrith smiled at Serena from behind a large loom in the corner,
while Annis with her lighter hair and green eyes sat looking on from another
loom to the side. “The villagers pay Ingrith and Annis for their cloth in trade
for things the two women and their families require.”

Serena walked to the table that held folded lengths of cloth
in colors of blue, rust, brown and green. “You can see the cloth is very fine.”

The Red Wolf observed the two women working at their looms.
His size made the cottage seem small. It was no wonder he wanted a castle; his
body was made for such a grand structure. But she knew his king’s demands were
for more than shelter. Castles would tell all of England the Normans were here
to stay.

After a moment, the knight’s gaze shifted to Serena as
though he had sensed her eyes upon him. Heat rose in her cheeks and she averted
her gaze. She did not want him to know her thoughts were of him.

Maugris walked to the table where the finished cloth lay,
running his fingers over the woolen fabric. “My lord.” He looked to the Red
Wolf. “’Tis softer than velvet.”

Happy to have another subject to fill her mind, Serena said,
“Ingrith and Annis provided the cloth for the tunics worn by the old lord’s
family. And the thegn traded Talisand’s woolen cloth for goods the villagers
did not make and for the treasures he sought from other lands.”

Maugris glanced at Serena’s simple tunic. His smile, as if
he were amused, caused her brow to wrinkle. What did the old man see? Was he
amused by her ill-fitting servant’s attire?

The Red Wolf was still studying Ingrith working at the loom
and Serena breathed a sigh of relief that he had not witnessed his wise one’s
mirth.

“I have need of a new tunic,” the Red Wolf said to Ingrith.
“Some of your cloth in dark blue would do nicely.” He reached for a folded
piece on the table. “I’ll send my squire for several lengths of the other
colors.”

“But my lord,” interjected Serena, “they
trade
for
their wool. You cannot just take it!”

His glower was sharp evidence of his displeasure. “This is
now my land and Ingrith is my serf. You would do well to remember it, Sarah. A
wise servant does not disagree with her lord.”

Serena bowed her head. “Yea, my lord.” She had already
crossed the line from servant to something more. It would not do for her to
fight him on this. But inside she was shocked. Did he mean to disrupt the
system her father had worked so diligently to establish?

Maugris exchanged a look with his master, but it brought no
change in the Red Wolf’s expression. He seemed determined to take what he
considered to be his.

With regret, Serena bid the weavers good day and left with
the men to continue their advance through the village. The Red Wolf handed the
blue cloth to his wise one as they approached the next workshop.

A goose followed by her goslings crossed the road, hurrying
at the sound of the knight’s heavy footfalls. The familiar bark of a dog
sounded in the distance. When Maugris looked at her in question, she said, “The
sheep grazing in the far pasture are being brought in for the night. The dog
you hear is one the shepherds use.”

“Where do you keep the sheep after gloaming?” he inquired.

“There are pens at the far end of the village and on the
south side of the manor, where the sheep are protected from wolves and other
beasts.”

Maugris’s mouth hitched up in a grin aimed at his master,
but the Norman knight did not see the old man’s smile. It was then Serena
realized what she had said. A wolf was a predator, a beast all feared. Had she
brought to the old one’s mind the Norman knight he served? Serena cared not if
her comment displeased the Red Wolf. After all, he was the one who had chosen
to wear the wolf’s pelt. Observing his fierce countenance, she thought the name
he had taken suited him well.

As the afternoon lengthened, Serena observed the Norman
knight’s interest grow in the village and its people, though his regard was not
always returned. In response to his presence, she glimpsed fear in the eyes of
some.

Was the Norman impressed with the lands his king had
bestowed upon him? Talisand was a prosperous holding, a place of peace in a
land that had often known war. He was a warrior far from home who had followed
his duke, now his king, to a distant land. All knights wanted land, did they
not? But it was not just any land he had taken, it was her land.

As she walked through the village, Serena had to fight the
desire to act the thegn’s daughter and the lady of her people, planning the
things she knew were needed for the winter to come, inquiring about their families
and seeing to their needs. They were good people, trying to do the best for
their children and she wanted to help them. Playing the servant limited her
role. Could she do more if she accepted the marriage foisted upon her? Or,
could she better serve the people by seeking Steinar’s aid to one day reclaim
their lands? Aid that might only bring war to Talisand. The desire to flee and
the desire to stay warred within her.

Introducing the Red Wolf to the villagers had a strange
effect upon her. While being deferential to him, as a servant must be to her
lord, the hatred she’d held onto so tightly began to ebb. It was easy to hate
the dreaded Norman king who had conquered England with his army of knights and
mercenaries, but it was not so easy to hate the knight who talked with her
people. He needed her help to understand their needs. Though she had been angry
at his ignorance of their ways and had bristled at his rebuke, she could not
forget his kiss. His reputation was that of a ruthless warrior, as vicious as
the wolf he had slain. Yet he’d been gentle with her. She fought to remember
the steel gray of his eyes and the firm set of his jaw when he gave orders to
his men, and when he had claimed the blue cloth he believed was his by right.
She fought to remember he was her enemy, but she could not fight the desire
that welled up inside her.