The Red Wolf's Prize (22 page)

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 he 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.”

“What?” She looked aghast. “You would go to York?”

“Yea, I must. But hopefully the rebellion there will soon be
over.”

His wife looked crestfallen.

“What is it, Serena? You know I cannot refuse the king.”

“Aye, I know. But York….” Her voice trailed off and he saw
pain in her beautiful eyes.

“What is it about York that concerns you so?”

A shadow crossed her lovely face and this time he saw fear
in her violet eyes. “You will fight my countrymen once again,” she said. “Have
you and your king not killed enough English? Must there be more dead?”

“As long as the people choose to rebel against their
anointed king, William’s knights must deal with them. I serve as William
dictates.”

“And I am ever in the middle,” she cried, “torn between my
people and my husband. I cannot bear it!”

“You speak of your people, Serena. Is it the rebel Earl
Morcar you think of? William tells me he is at York.” Could she still harbor
feelings for the earl who abducted her to wed her? The prospect stirred
jealousy within him. “The earl and his brother are with Edgar
Ætheling,
nephew to Edward the Confessor. Now they have a cause they did not have
before.”

“Nay, Renaud,” she pleaded. “I do not think of Earl Morcar,
or his brother, or of Edgar, though I would not see them harmed. I think of my
brother, Steinar.”

“What makes you think Steinar is in York?”

“He was in Scotland where Edgar claimed refuge,” she said.
“Would he not travel south with the rightful heir to the throne?”

“We can only hope he does not,” Renaud said with a frown.

No matter her pleading and her tears, Renaud could not be
persuaded to remain at Talisand. It was his duty, he said, and as the wife of a
knight, she should understand.

Serena had always known Renaud placed duty above all. It was
the reason he had wed her. But the idea that he again rode to war tore at her
heart. He might be wounded or killed. When her tears had persisted, he had
assured her he would return whole and hearty. That brought her some comfort,
believing her powerful warrior would be safe, but what of Steinar? Would it be
her brother who would face the awesome sword of the mighty Red Wolf?

She had been teary eyed and tired for the last week and had
thought it was because of the Bastard king’s visit. But she was coming to
believe it was not merely that, or her husband’s soon departure, but portended
more. She had seen enough women with child to believe she carried a babe.
Though happy at the possibility, she hated the idea that the father of her
unborn child might soon be locked in a battle with the child’s uncle and the
men who fought with him for England.

“I am leaving Theodric and Sir Niel here with nearly a score
of men to guard you and Talisand,” he assured her. “You need have no fear.” How
wrong he was.

He stood before her in the yard, once again the proud Norman
knight, the wolf’s pelt riding the shoulder of his hauberk. He had told her
that knights in both Normandy and England had come to fear the sight of the
beast’s fur, so he never failed to wear it into battle. At his side he carried
his sword and a shorter blade on his opposite hip. He was a vision in dark
blue, iron mail and silver, fierce in countenance, a knight any would see as
dangerous. It did not surprise her men feared him.

Taking her into his arms he kissed her slowly, passionately
and the scent of him so familiar to her now, lingered. Tenderly, he brushed the
tears from her cheeks. She reached to his forehead to set aside an errant
chestnut curl.

“I will come back to you, Serena. I promise.” He brought her
fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Then he donned his helm, his eyes
the same color as the steel protecting his head, and mounted his gray stallion.

It seemed her fate to always be watching the Red Wolf ride
away with his knights and his men, this time following his king, to whom she
had bid Godspeed. But unlike before, Serena did not intend to wait for her
husband to return to Talisand. No, this time she would follow him to York.

Rhodri must have suspected her plans for as soon as the
Normans departed, he approached. “If you are planning to travel to York,
Serena, I would go with you. I promised Steinar to see to your welfare, and I
shall.”

“You have spoken to Steinar?” she asked, surprised, for it
was the first she had heard of it.

“Aye. Who do you think sent me to Talisand? But he bid me
say nothing until we were ready to leave.”

“My brother. Of course. I should have known. But how did
you—?”

“Find him?” At her nod, he said, “I knew something of his
plans before he left. Then, too, I knew King Malcolm was in Dunfermline and I
suspected Edgar Ætheling and his followers would find their way there.”

“I would see Steinar, Rhodri. I miss him and I worry for his
life.”

“Prepare yourself for his anger, then. I came to help you
escape, but you were determined to marry the Norman. I do not think Steinar
will be pleased with either of us.”

“Aye, mayhap you are right. I did intend to flee the fate
the Norman king decreed for me, but by the time you would have aided me, it was
too late. At first, I stayed for Talisand, but now….”

Rhodri let out a sigh. “You care for him, I know. I have not
sent word to Steinar of your marriage. I do not think he would believe it was
your choice, much less that you could care for a Norman knight.”

* * *

It was the next day before Serena and Rhodri were able to get
away without being followed. She had found little sleep in Renaud’s bed,
missing him and imagining what he would say when he encountered her in York.

The journey took them nearly two days and, because it rained
the first day, the trip was a miserable one. Sodden, weary and sick to her
stomach each morning, Serena refused to be deterred.

She was determined to see Steinar, even to help him if she
could, though she trembled, knowing it meant she defied her husband. She
dreaded the thought of Steinar falling victim to a Norman’s sword. Ever mindful
her husband might wield that sword, she feared all the more. And what if
Steinar or one of the Northumbrians killed the Red Wolf? She could not bear to
lose the knight who owned her heart, the father of her unborn child.

By the time they drew close to York, Serena could smell the
acrid smoke. From what they learned from fleeing villagers, the Normans set
fires as they approached York. Like locusts, they had swept across the
countryside wreaking havoc in their path, intent on forcing the Northumbrians
into submission. All that was left behind were the burned out shells of
cottages.

On the morning of the third day, as she and Rhodri reached
the outskirts of the city, she heard the sounds of clashing swords and shouts
of men. In the distance were the River Ouse and the buildings that comprised
York.

Urging Serena into the trees, where she found a thick branch
to sit upon, Rhodri followed and readied his bow.

“Take care not to be seen!” he whispered.

Serena flipped her plait over her shoulder and nocked an
arrow. Before them lay a great open field where the Northumbrians were engaged
in a fierce insurrection, the thegns and their warriors locked in a clash of
swords with the Normans, the latter having left their warhorses to fight the
English on foot. Serena’s ears filled with the sounds of men shouting and metal
clanging against metal.

Pressed close together as each side struggled to prevail, it
would have been difficult to distinguish the individual warriors, except for
the Normans’ longer shields and the Northumbrians’ round shields, longer hair
and beards.

She took in the scene, anxiously searching for a glimpse of
her brother and the Norman who wore the wolf’s pelt. One Northumbrian fell
close to where they hid in the trees as a Norman blade sliced through the flesh
of his neck. Blood shot out of the victim, splashing onto his attacker. She
could nearly taste it as the metallic odor wafted up to where she hid. Serena clamped
down her jaw, refusing to give into the compulsion to spew the contents of her
stomach.

“There!” shouted Rhodri. “Do you see him? ’Tis Steinar.”

Her gaze followed Rhodri’s extended finger, straining to see
through the cloud of men moving and shifting as their swords locked as they
attempted to block each other’s deadly blows. At last, she sighted his flaxen
hair extending beneath his helm. Her heart seized in her chest.

Steinar stood on a slight rise, his sword already covered
with blood, as he valiantly tried to fight off three Normans. He was so brave,
this brother she loved. And yet so young.

Oh, Steinar, I pray you stay safe. I could not bear to
lose you, too.

Quickly, she moved her bow into position. At least she could
even the odds.

With a sudden whooshing sound, her arrow flew with lightning
speed to strike the shoulder of the man closest to Steinar. The arrow sunk deep
into his flesh and the Norman fell to the ground. With her second arrow, she
slayed the largest of the two remaining. Her heart soared as Steinar quickly
dispatched the last one.

She fixed her gaze on her brother as he turned to face
another Norman’s sword. Faster on his feet than larger men, her brother slashed
again and again at his enemy while adroitly dodging the blows meant for him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a tall
Norman wearing the pelt of the wolf on his shoulder.

Renaud!

He was magnificent in his mail and helm, his shield blocking
blows as his strong sword cut a swath through the line of men who attacked him.
The set of his jaw told her the undefeated warrior she had heard so much about
was here in all his glory.

A superb swordsman, he was ruthless and fast with his blade,
powerful and lithe in his movements. As she had witnessed in the practice yard,
he fought with panther-like grace slicing through the flesh of the men who
opposed him. For a moment she forgot it was Northumbrians he was slaying. She
thought only of her husband who wielded the sword.

At Renaud’s back was the bear-like knight Sir Alain,
fighting with sword and shield. Men fell away from them at a terrible rate. It
was no wonder some warriors avoided the Red Wolf, for his reputation was well
earned.

Nearby, Steinar slayed the knight he fought and, without
warning, turned and lashed out at Renaud. Seemingly stunned for a moment, the
Red Wolf fought back, defending himself.

Serena swallowed, her teeth closing on her knuckles in
suspense as fear gripped her, fear for the lives of the two men she loved most
in the world now locked in viscous combat. It could not be!

“Rhodri, do you see? Steinar and the Red Wolf!”

“Aye I see them, Serena. What would you have me do?”

Serena’s arrow was nocked and ready, but she was frozen,
unable to move. Steinar’s blade sliced through the air, blocked by Renaud’s
sword. Her brother…her Norman husband, she could not choose between them! If
her love for Renaud had not been sure before, it was now.

“Naught, Rhodri. Do naught.” Serena’s heart shattered as she
watched the two men she loved lock swords again and again, Steinar attacking,
Renaud defending. Was Renaud holding back?
His thrusts seemed less
vigorous than before.

She lowered her bow. “I cannot shoot, Rhodri. I must not. I
love them both!”

Rhodri sat back against the trunk of the tree, resting his
bow on his leg. “Then pray, my lady, and let God decide.”

And pray she did. Her gaze fixed on the battle raging
between them, she asked God to save them both.

Suddenly Steinar was drawn away by another Norman’s
challenge. Renaud turned as a blow from a Norman knight struck his shield. The
Red Wolf stumbled and turned to confront the challenger, pausing as if
surprised to see a fellow Norman wielding a blade against him.

Confused, Serena studied the Norman knight who was slashing
at her husband. The swarthy complexion, dark beard and swaggering stance were
familiar to her as the Norman shouted taunts at Renaud.

Sir Hugue! He fights with Morcar.

The weight of his evil presence settled upon her. His hatred
was strong for the Red Wolf. Serena had her own hatred for the mercenary who
had tried to rape Eawyn and had sunk a knife in Cassie’s flesh.

The battle raged between the two Norman warriors, the clash
of steel rising again and again. Renaud twisted to deflect a blow from Sir
Hugue and stumbled over the body of one of the slain. Falling to one knee, he
fought to regain his balance, his sword still clutched in his hand.

“Rhodri! The Red Wolf is in peril!”

Taking advantage of Renaud’s vulnerable position, Sir Hugue
swept in, raising his sword to inflict a deadly blow. In a flash of speed,
Serena focused on the mercenary’s neck and let her arrow fly. Before Sir
Hugue’s blow could find its target, her arrow pierced the flesh of his neck.
Blood spurted from the wound. A second arrow, shot by Rhodri, hit the
mercenary’s chest, the bodkin arrow piercing his mail.

Sir Hugue paused as if suspended in time, the arrows seeming
to hold him up. Then with a crash, he fell to his knees and to the ground.
Renaud stood looking down at the body.

Serena’s heart raced as she held her hand to her chest and
breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel no sorrow for the man guilty of so
much treachery.

“Aye, ’tis done,” said Rhodri.

Serena tried to find Steinar in what remained of the battle,
but she had lost sight of him. The battle was waning. As she scanned the field,
a Northumbrian warrior darted across the field toward the trees where she was
hidden. As he neared, he stripped off his helm.

Morcar!

He ran through the trees, passing beneath her, followed by
several other Northumbrians.

* * *

Renaud stared down at the body of Sir Hugue and his neck
pierced with an arrow.

That arrow fletching
.

The fletching bore the same feathers his wife had so
carefully fit into her arrows that night by the hearth, distinctive in their
style. He looked up to follow the path the arrow had taken, the arrow that had
spared him Hugue’s sword. His eyes caught a flicker of flaxen hair amidst the
green leaves of the trees. He had known the moment the first arrow hit the
mercenary that no ordinary archer had shot it.

Serena!

How was it possible she was here?

Squinting into the distance, he saw Rhodri on another
branch, mostly hidden by the color of his clothes, but visible to the
discerning eye. Had they come to join the Northumbrian rebels? Surely she would
fight for her brother. He had seen his wife’s same violet eyes and flaxen hair
on an English warrior who’d attacked him earlier. Somehow he knew it was
Steinar whose thrusts he had parried, and so he had not slain the young
warrior. And then he had lost him among the other Northumbrians when Sir Hugue
attacked him.

“It’s nearly over, Ren,” said Geoff approaching with his
sword dripping blood. Looking over Renaud’s blood splattered body, he asked,
“Are you wounded?”

“Nay,” he said, still staring into the trees, “an arrow from
a friend spared me the insult.”

“An arrow?” Geoff asked incredulous as he spotted the
mercenary lying at Renaud’s feet. “’Tis Hugue!”

“Aye, killed by arrows.”

“From where? There are no archers here.”