Chapter 12
Standing in the manor’s entry, Renaud crumpled the parchment in his hand and exchanged a look with Sir Maurin.
“William’s summons comes at an inconvenient time, but our sire has need of us, so we must go.
” He shifted his gaze to the young messenger dressed in the king’s livery.
“Get some food and then be on your way. You may tell the king the Red Wolf rides this day to join him.”
The messenger bowed, then headed toward the kitchen. Flanked by Geoff and Sir Maurin, Renaud stood watching his men breaking their fast, wondering what he should tell them.
“Where are we bound, Ren?” asked Geoff.
“To Exeter. It seems Gytha, mother of the dead Harold, has stirred the city to resist William’s increase in annual tribute and his demand for fealty. He has marched on the city intending to lay siege and summons me to add my men to his army.”
“I’ll ready the men,” Geoff said solemnly, and together with Sir Maurin, turned toward the hall.
Renaud reached his hand to Geoff’s arm to stop him, but allowed Sir Maurin to continue on his way. “I will address the men, Geoff. There is Talisand to see to as we may be away for some time.”
Renaud stepped to the large doorway leading into the hall.
His presence silenced the men’s conversations as all eyes turned toward him.
In addition to his knights and retainers, there were a number of Talisand’s men in the hall.
The Welsh bard, Rhodri stood to one side looking on with furrowed brows.
“The king has summoned us to join him in the south for a siege,” he announced.
The men cheered.
When they quieted, he continued. “Knights and archers be prepared to ride at the sixth hour.” Nodding heads and smiles on the faces of his men displayed their approval of the new orders.
“Sir Maurin will remain here with enough men to defend the manor and village. Now that I have chosen a site for the castle, and the plans are drawn, the building will proceed apace with Sir Maurin as overseer in my absence. Talisand’s men and the carpenters we brought with us will see the task done. ”
Sir Maurin nodded from where he stood amidst the others, and Renaud was reminded he must speak to the knight about the guard he had appointed for his errant bride.
As Renaud gave further instructions for their travel to Exeter, the continued smiles on the faces before him made clear his men were eager for battle. It was what they had trained for, and the past months had shown them little action.
In the midst of the men’s murmurs, all sounds suddenly died away and the eyes of his knights fixed on a point behind him as they rose from their seats.
Renaud sensed her presence even before he turned.
Serena.
No longer dressed as a servant, his bride stood adorned like a queen. Stunned by her beauty, his eyes took in the elegant purple gown that hugged her curves not revealed by the servant’s attire she had worn before.
A fitting mate indeed.
Her unplaited flaxen hair, crowned by a silver and gold circlet, announced to all she was a maiden still, making him regret again that the king’s summons had forced him from his bed.
Stepping aside, he gestured her forward. As she approached, there were gasps from some of his men who, looking more closely, realized for the first time who the servant girl Sarah really was.
She stood proudly, her violet eyes shining with a light of determination.
“Good knights and men of Talisand,” Renaud said loudly, first in Norman French and then in English, “I give you my lady, Serena of Talisand.” For a moment the hall was silent.
Then his knights dropped to one knee, each bringing his fist to his heart, silently pledging fealty and protection to the woman who was to be their lord’s wife.
Serena stood for a moment, her eyes traveling over his men, a slight smile on her lips. Then, to his great surprise, she spoke in perfect Norman French.
“I thank you for your obeisance. But lest you believe otherwise, know this: Talisand is the rich demesne you see today because of the foresight and wisdom of an English thegn, my father, Sigmund. I would ask that you respect his memory and treat well the people of Talisand he loved, for they have lost much and I would restore it to them if I could.”
She paused for a moment and then stepped back into the manor’s entry, and smiled at him briefly before saying, “My lord,” and hastening through the door to the yard that Sir Niel held open for her. The knight nodded to Renaud and followed after her.
Renaud faced his men, his knights having risen from their knees to stand.
“Heed my lady’s words. I would have no disparagement of the old lord. He is the grandsire of the sons Lady Serena will one day give me.”
To Renaud’s ear came the sound of a loud cheer from the yard outside. He turned and strode to the front door. The yard was bathed in sunlight. Serena, her back to him, stood before a large gathering of English men and women. Unwilling to interfere, he waited, wondering what she would say.
She raised her hands to still their murmured praises.
“Good people of Talisand, I am once again among you as your lady.” A cheer rose up from the crowd. It seemed to Renaud this was no conquered English maiden. More like a queen returning from a forced absence to greet her subjects.
“I seek only to serve you and to help ease the pain of your loss—the husbands, fathers and sons who are gone from us forever—and the independence my father had granted you. Though we have lost much, we must thank the Master of the Heavens for what we still have and for the coming harvest. I thank you, as well, for your loyalty, your protection and your many kindnesses.”
Renaud was pleased to hear her gracious words.
Though he was angered at her deception, to his ears she sounded resigned to her role as his countess.
He could only hope it was so. Walking forward, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, claiming her before the people.
She stiffened slightly but did not pull away.
Mayhap if he were gracious, he could end the acrimony between them.
Speaking to those gathered, he said, “I have told my men that Serena is my lady and soon, my wife and countess. They are to respect her as such. May we all prosper because she is returned to you.” The people listened, but remained silent at his words.
To them he was still the foreign invader.
Then, too, some would be called to battle this very day at his orders.
But before they left, he would have them know he respected their lady.
Renaud faced Serena and spoke in a softer voice for her ears alone. “Join me at my table for the morning meal, my lady, and then I must depart to join William.”
“You go to fight again?” she asked anxiously.
He hoped it was worry he saw in her beautiful eyes yet he dared not believe she might truly care about the husband forced upon her. There was passion between them, he knew that well, yet he was still the Norman who had claimed her lands. “Yea, I go to Exeter in Devon.”
Frowning, she said, “Gytha, the queen mother lives there.”
“She is no longer the mother of a king, Serena, and because she has stirred the men of the city to rise against William, they will once again know his wrath.”
Serena looked down, but he doubted it was in resignation.
In a subdued voice, she said, “Four of Gytha’s eight children died the year your king claimed England; she lost three sons at Hastings alone.”
“And the other—Tostig—was a brother of treachery.”
“Yea,” she said raising her head and staring into his eyes, “he fought his brother Harold and fell at Stamford Bridge. So did Ulrich, husband of Lady Eawyn, who fought against the invader from Norway. But after Hastings, Gytha pleaded with your William for the body of her son Harold. The Norman king rejected her plea. Is it not understandable she should inspire the Saxons to rise against a man who would deny a Christian burial to their king?”
“It is the way of war, my lady. William had his reasons. But one day the fighting will end. You must look forward to that day, as I do.” How he longed for the day when he could be concerned only with his lands, his lady and his sons, and claim the peace so long denied him.
Yet he feared he would never know that peace.
“Will the fighting end?” she asked. “I wonder. Your king is still challenged by many. And do not forget that Edgar AEtheling, the Saxon who would sit on the English throne, is now safely ensconced in Scotland with my brother.”
He had not known that Steinar was with Edgar AEtheling, the young English contender for the throne, but it made sense.
“I have not forgotten where your loyalties lie, my lady.” Renaud was unhappy to be reminded that the woman he would take to wife was not loyal to William.
But he had no desire to argue with her just before he rode to battle.
“Come,” he said as he led her inside the manor, the people having dispersed, “I would share a meal with you, Serena, lest we argue ere I ride, mayhap to my death.” Serena placed her hand on his offered arm and another question occurred to him.
“Would you mourn the loss of your future husband?”
* * *
Still pondering his question, Serena took her place at the Red Wolf’s table for the first time since the Normans had come.
She sat on his right, Sir Geoffroi on his left and Maugris on her other side.
Though there was still much activity in the hall, some of the men had already left, presumably to prepare for their soon departure.
Rhodri looked at her from where he sat at one of the long tables, a question in his eyes.
She knew he wondered if this had truly been her decision or if she had been forced.
The Welshman and Steinar were close, and to her, Rhodri wore the look her brother would have worn had he been here.
A look of incredulity. How could she agree to wed a Norman?