Epilogue
Serena stood at the top of the motte, surveying the bailey that had seen so much rain in the weeks leading up to Christmastide. At least it had not snowed last night, though frost had covered the ground that morning. The pale sun that had risen this day did not bring much warmth.
She drew her woolen cloak tightly around her against the chill and rubbed her growing belly feeling the child move again. Her thoughts drifted idly toward spring when the flowers would return.
It would be her time to give birth.
In the bailey below, the harsh sound of wood clashing against wood disturbed the winter quiet as Mathieu and Jamie sparred with practice swords.
A short distance away Steinar sat on a cask watching the lesson.
His leg had healed but he limped and often used a walking stick, especially when treading rough ground.
Her brow wrinkled in worry for him. He was bitter and discouraged. Who could blame him?
Rhodri sauntered through the gate with his bow and arrows slung over his shoulder and joined Steinar to watch the swordplay. “When you finish training him to the blade, Mathieu,” he yelled over the sounds of mock battle, “I will train him to the bow.”
Jamie’s face lit up as he blocked a blow from Mathieu’s wooden sword. “Aye, the bow next!”
Serena heard her husband approach behind her. Wrapping his arms around her middle between her breasts and swollen belly, he said, “In a year’s time, Mathieu will be ready to be a knight and Jamie can become my squire.”
“He would like that,” she said, laying her hands over his.
The feeling of warmth between them had not dimmed in the months since York.
Their love had only grown stronger. Renaud had been most gracious to Steinar and the two men had found a semblance of rapport between them, avoiding the difficult subjects that would have brought on an argument. For that Serena was grateful.
Seeing Cassie stride through the yard to the stable where Sir Maurin had gone a short while ago, Serena smiled at the memory of the weddings that had taken place.
As she now reflected upon them, she should not have been surprised.
Maugris had grinned in reply to her wondering at so many, telling her he had seen them in his visions.
First there was Sir Alain and Aethel, to the surprise of many.
In the weeks following York, the herb woman had tended the knight’s wounded face, and they had become inseparable.
When they wed, Serena allowed them to make their home in the manor Renaud had given her.
After weeks abed, Sir Maurin had recovered, and Cassie and he had claimed the priest’s blessing.
They now lived in the main manor. Both women had recently declared they were carrying their husbands’ babes.
With the coming of summer, Talisand would be full of new life.
Mayhap in time, even Sir Geoffroi and Eawyn would wed.
It was her brother who gave her sleepless nights.
“I worry about Steinar,” she said aloud. “Now that he is healed in body, he still appears troubled in soul. He grows restless. I know he wonders what future he has in England. I fear he will seek Edgar again in Scotland.”
“I see the bard sits by his side,” said Renaud. “Why does the Welshman linger?”
“He stays, I think, for my brother. He worries, as do I. We both fear Steinar will leave. Rhodri but waits to see what direction he will take so that he may follow. The two are like brothers.”
Drawing her closer into his chest, he whispered in her ear. “Steinar must make his own life, Serena.”
She let out a sigh. “I know you are right and that he will go. But I will miss him.”
“You will be busy with our child. By the bye, what shall we name him? Shall it be an English name or Norman?” Renaud teased.
“I have been considering our choices, husband. What say you if we name the babe after our fathers?”
“I like it, and it would please my father.”
“I just realized I do not know your father’s name. What is it?”
“Alexander.”
“So our son would be Alexander Sigmund of Talisand.” Serena thought on the name. “Aye, ’tis a good choice. But what if the child is a girl?”
He tightened his embrace as he spoke. “Maugris is certain the babe will be a son, the first of several he tells me. But if the wise one is wrong, let us name the girl child after a saint and pray she is not like her mother.”
Serena laughed and batted his hand. “You jest!”
“Mayhap I do,” he chuckled. “In truth, my lady wife, I would love a violet-eyed girl child to hold on my knee. For I love her mother more than life.” He nuzzled her neck.
Serena twisted her wedding band, remembering again the words inscribed inside and turned in his arms to look into his face. The face of the knight she loved. “Your lands do not hold your heart, my lord? The prize your Norman king gave you?”
“Nay, my lady. The lands would be only a place to dwell were you not here to share them with me. Maugris was right when he said it was here I would find my prize. You are that prize, Serena, not the lands. You are my peace, my love.”
Sliding her hands to his nape, Serena pulled him toward her and kissed the Norman she loved, content to be the Red Wolf’s prize.