Chapter 8 #2
Serena hoped the Norman knight appreciated what a well-tended village Talisand had. Did the knight fail to notice how the people were well clothed and the children well fed notwithstanding all the fathers they were missing?
“How many slaves are in the village?” asked the Red Wolf. “I have seen few in the manor.”
“There are no slaves in the village, nor in the manor,” she answered with pride.
“All those the old lord brought here he freed.” That was one of the reasons her father was so loved.
He brought those to Talisand who had skills to share, and the people produced much from the pure joy of building lives they were proud of, of working their own land.
The Red Wolf seemed to consider her words. “It seems a waste to me, but then he was an unusual thegn.”
Serena could feel her anger rise but she quickly damped it down.
As if explaining to a child, she said, “It is because they are free, my lord, that the people work so hard. They work for the future of their sons and daughters. They were happy to give back to the thegn who gave them so much. To now become serfs does not sit well.” Inwardly she cringed, knowing she had again stepped over the bounds of a servant, but it was important to convince this Norman her father’s ways were best. Obviously he knew little of caring for villeins.
His gray eyes seemed to study her for a moment. She felt uncomfortable beneath his intense gaze. Then, in a deep voice he said, “Lead the way to the blacksmith, Sarah. It is time that I meet him.”
Serena dropped her head as Cassie had instructed, though the gesture ran against her nature. “Yea, my lord. His name is Angus. His cottage is a short way ahead.”
Maugris smiled.
She pointed toward the cottage set off from the others.
The small building they entered was open on one end where the breeze from the large door fanned the fire in the forge.
A wave of heat billowed out to meet them as she spotted the stocky man with bright red hair sitting on a stool, sweat rolling off his soot-smudged face.
In one hand he held tongs that gripped a bar of iron he forced into the fire.
In his other hand was a large hammer, which he used to pound the red hot metal, the clanking sound resonating as sparks flew upward.
Angus paused in his work to thrust the glowing bar into a vat of water sending steam shooting into the air as the tortured metal screamed. As Serena approached, he set aside the cooling bar and rose, wiping his powerful hands on his leather apron.
The Red Wolf followed her through the door, bending his head to avoid hitting the lintel. Maugris was close on his heels.
“Greetings, Angus. ’Tis Sarah,” she said, careful to remind him of the name she had taken, hoping the Normans did not think it odd. “The new lord and his wise man have come to meet you.”
“Aye,” said Angus, looking at the tall knight and Maugris behind him. “Maggie told me ye would be coming. Yer men are keeping my forge busy, m’lord.”
“My men have much need for a smith’s services,” remarked the Red Wolf. “I trust you can keep up. We’ll need the horses shod and some armor repaired. Then there will be fittings for the castle.”
“The forge and workers I have willna be enough.”
“Then you must build another and hire more men,” said the Red Wolf shortly, “or I’ll send for a smith who can.”
“My lord,” Serena interrupted, “Angus can do it but he will need coin to pay for materials and for the workers required for a second forge. Talisand does not have such resources.”
The Red Wolf’s eyes flashed in anger.
“Aye, I will need more iron and more workers,” echoed the smith, running his hands through his tousled red hair. “There be some lads in the next village who can be put to the task.”
The Red Wolf’s brow furrowed as his gaze came to rest on the forge. “I will see you have coin for the workers and the iron you need. Let Sir Geoffroi know your requirements, and you will have them.”
Angus dipped his head. “Aye, I shall do as ye say.” He winked at Serena and she breathed a sigh of relief. Though she had incurred the Red Wolf’s anger to do it, she had helped the Norman understand what Angus needed and for that she was glad.
“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.