Chapter 14
Serena sat at the high table barely listening to the conversations around her as the evening wore on. Outside, the summer sun still lingered in the sky, its last rays finding their way through the open shutters to pool among the rushes.
Maugris, who had stayed behind when his master rode south, now joined her for meals, he on her left and Sir Maurin on her right.
Since he had learned she spoke Norman French, Sir Maurin often slipped from English, of which he knew only a little, into the language of his birth.
But Maugris spoke English nearly as well as Serena.
And though his words might be few, what he said was often worth hearing.
Serena did not mind his company. The wise one was a gentle soul and so unlike the Red Wolf’s knights with their rough warrior ways, she had ceased to think of him as Norman at all.
His tunics were now made of the fine wool woven by Ingrith and Annis, and the children of Talisand looked upon him as a kind of grandfather, eager for the stories he told around the hearth fire each night.
Her mind dulled to sounds of men eating and joking as her thoughts drifted to the past. So many men were gone from the hall forever, good men who had fought with her father, men who died defending the Saxon king.
The ones who remained were now compelled to construct a castle for their conquerors, the timbered structure that was the symbol of the Norman domination.
She knew some of Talisand’s men resented being pressed into the work, but others considered themselves fortunate to have a lord who was powerful enough to protect their families from future attacks.
They worried only about their crops and feeding their children.
She could hardly blame them. To survive was in some way to succeed.
Looking around the hall, it was as if she could see the ghosts of those whose laughter had once filled the large space: Sigmund, her father, Oswine, the dark-haired young guard to whom she had once given her heart and the men who had followed them to Hastings.
She remembered Oswine teasing her for the shorter bow Rhodri had made her.
His voice, along with the others, faded now, never to be heard again in the hall, but she would remember their courage and their sacrifice for as long as she lived.
Those who had survived the coming of the Normans would never forget, as she never would. It had changed their lives forever.
Sighing, she chided herself for dwelling on the past. She took a deep breath and brought herself to the present and focused on the evening meal.
The mutton stew set before her was hearty and the aroma of the well-seasoned broth made her mouth water.
She had not eaten since breaking her fast and that had been only bread and cheese.
From their murmurings in Norman French, Serena discerned that Maggie had once again impressed the Red Wolf’s men with her cooking.
Having worked all day on the castle, they consumed with relish the stew and hot bread fresh from the oven.
More and more the Normans drank the English ale now.
Sir Niel, her constant shadow, sat at one of the long tables laughing with another knight. Although he appeared unaware of her, she knew if she were to rise, the knight, whose hair failed to cover the jagged scar that marred his handsome face, would do so as well.
Serena understood the lack of trust between her and the Red Wolf that had led to the guard.
How could they know she was resigned to her fate when there were times she doubted it herself?
The gesture she had made to greet them in her fine gown and circlet of silver and gold had, even then, seemed a betrayal of her father.
It was why she had spoken of him when she addressed the Red Wolf’s men.
Why she had insisted the Normans pay the old thegn respect.
What would he say if he were alive to see her acceptance of the Norman king’s bidding? What would Steinar say if he knew she would soon be the Red Wolf’s wife?
Of Talisand’s men, tonight the hall was missing Theodric, the captain of her father’s guard, now one of the Red Wolf’s men.
Though Theodric was married and lived in one of the manors, he often dined in the hall if he spent the day at the manor.
Leppe and Alec, who had guided their small band into the woods the first time she had tried to escape, now served their new lord as archers.
Their sworn fealty required them to join the Red Wolf in battle if he had need of them.
Mayhap it was for the best. If they were to prosper, they must show loyalty to the new lord.
And so must she.
The Red Wolf was a warrior unschooled in all that must be done for the smooth running of Talisand’s lands. For her people’s sake, she must help him and turn her attention to the harvest if they were to eat this coming winter.
“My lady,” said Maugris, his forehead wrinkled in concern, “you speak little this eve, yet your face tells me you ponder much. Is something amiss?” His ancient eyes, fathomless pools of pale blue, lingered on her, making her wonder what he might see that others did not.
“Sometimes, I think of how things were.”
“It is unwise, my child, to look too long behind you, else you will miss the future that lies before you. Though the wounds of the past are deep, let your heart find solace in the knowledge it has loved well.”
“I know you speak the truth, wise one, and I have told myself the same. But if we are to speak of the future, I must tell you I am worried about all that must be done to bring in the harvest and prepare the cottages for winter now that we have fewer men. Your lord took some of the strongest, while others have been compelled to build his castle.”
“When the time comes, the Red Wolf’s men will help, my lady. You have only to ask. The lord will withhold naught you require.”
“The villagers will be relieved to hear it,” she said gratefully, turning to face him. “I thank you.”
The rest of the evening meal passed with only brief comments about the progress of the castle. On the south side of the manor, where nothing had stood before save shelters for the sheep, there was now a huge mound of earth and, on its flat top, a half constructed tower.
“Soon the castle will be finished,” said Sir Maurin cheerfully, slipping into Norman French. “When the harvest is ripe, the men of Talisand will be free to work the fields.”
“That is good for we will need them to bring in the wheat and the other crops. And for the hunting and butchering that must be done before winter.”
The senior knight the Red Wolf had left in charge was consumed with plans for the castle. “Have you seen the drawings, my lady?” asked Sir Maurin.
“Nay, but I have heard the hammers and seen the ditch created from the huge mound of earth that supports the new timbered structure.”
“There will be a keep with a larger hall at its base and a small chapel, as well as the lord’s solar and chambers for others. ’Twill be larger than some built by William’s command but not so fine as the home of the Red Wolf family in Normandy.”
Serena wondered about the home the Red Wolf had left in order to seek his fortune in distant England.
He had yet to speak of it. And she wondered, too, how it would feel to be the lady of the new castle—to be the wife of the unbending knight.
Not wishing to dwell on the future rushing toward her, she asked instead, “Why another chapel?”
“Knowing the Red Wolf,” Sir Maurin said with a smile, “he would want one close for he is a man of faith. But ’twill also serve to satisfy the penance decreed for Norman soldiers who took lives at Hastings.
” At her puzzled expression, he explained, “One year’s penance for each man the knight killed or, if he does not know the number, then he must do a penance one day a week for the rest of his life, or he may build a church. ”
“I see.” New churches must be rising all over England. “The Red Wolf does not know how many Saxons he killed, does he?”
“Nay, my lady,” the knight said with a guilty expression. “Few of us have a count.”
Serena was not surprised with so many dead at Hastings and all over the south of England. The Norman king had been ruthless. And she expected the Red Wolf was adding to his number even now at Exeter. She shuddered at the thought of what the battlefield must look like.
Sir Maurin’s gaze followed Cassie as the comely redhead helped to serve in the hall.
Serena had observed the two of them walking near the river, so enthralled with each other they appeared ignorant of any who watched.
She was happy for Cassie if that is what her handmaiden wanted.
Sir Maurin was a good man, even though he was a Norman.
And how could she criticize Cassie when she herself would soon be sharing the bed of a Norman knight?
Aethel approached the high table and began refilling the goblets from the pitcher she carried.
Thanking her for the ale, Serena drank her fill, letting out a sigh.
Was Aethel still enamored of the Red Wolf?
There was no love involved, of that Serena was certain.
In fact, since Theodric had wed another, Aethel seemed to care for no one, not even the old thegn whose bed she had shared.
But remembering the way she had waved at Sir Alain as he had departed for Exeter, Serena thought one day Aethel might find a man to please her, even a Norman knight.
Just not the Red Wolf.
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