Chapter 13
Morcar was eager for news. “What did you learn?” he anxiously asked Fugol while his brother looked on. “Does she remain unwed?”
“My lord,” said the brown-haired Saxon, his beard now trimmed and his attire resembling that of a freeman in the employ of a wealthy earl, “I met Lady Serena when she came to see the wares ye gave me to sell. She wore no ring and her hair was uncovered, but the people spoke of a coming wedding to the Norman who has been given Talisand.”
“I knew it!” shouted Morcar, slamming his fist on the table, the sound reverberating off the walls of Edwin’s solar in Mercia. “Damn William for promising one of the fairest English maidens to one of his knights when her father would have given her to me.”
“Not just any knight, my lord,” added Fugol. “’Tis Sir Renaud, the one they call the Red Wolf.”
“I know of him,” said Edwin from where he sat at the end of the table stroking his beard. “He has long fought at William’s side. When we were dragged off to Normandy as William’s guests, the Red Wolf was one of the senior knights the king left in London, one he trusted with his affairs.”
“Yea, and I seem to recall him when we were still at William’s court,” said Morcar. His eyes narrowed on the spy. “He wore that pelt that has branded him as vicious as the animal he killed. Was he at Talisand?”
“Nay,” said Fugol. “He and most of his knights and men-at-arms were gone ere I came, summoned by William to Exeter to join him in a siege of that city where some Saxons are holding out against him.”
“I pity the good citizens of Exeter,” said Edwin.
“The only Normans left at Talisand,” said Fugol, “are guards or those supervising the work on the castle they are building.”
Directing his words to his brother, Morcar said, “It seems William is intent on leaving his mark all over England with those infernal castles. Our hopes to be left alone to rule the north are crumbling to nothing.”
“I still hold Mercia,” said Edwin, “though for how long I cannot say.”
Morcar shifted his gaze to Fugol. “What about her brother Steinar?”
“He’s no longer at Talisand, my lord. According to the woman Aethel, he is in Scotland.”
Morcar traded looks with his brother. They had been in contact with Edgar who was safely ensconced across the border, waiting for an opportunity to return to reclaim the English throne. And they knew Steinar must be with him.
Returning his attention to the spy, Morcar asked, “Can the lady be taken?”
“Aye.” The spy smiled. “As I told ye, there be few guards, though one of the Norman knights follows her about and sits near when she dines at the high table with Sir Maurin, the knight left in charge. The wench ye sent me to, Aethel, may know how best to get in and out of the manor unseen. She seemed willing enough to help. She told me Lady Serena had twice tried to escape, but was brought back each time.”
“She sought to escape?” asked Edwin.
“Aye, she did,” said Fugol. “Brave lady that she is. But when I was there, she bought silk for a wedding gown from my cart.”
“Mayhap she feels she has no other choice,” said Morcar.
He would give her another choice and soon.
“Ye said naught to Lady Serena?” He wanted to limit those who were aware of his plans.
Though he knew Serena must be unhappy at the prospect of being forced to wed a Norman, he did not want his spy’s presence to become known.
“To Lady Serena, I spoke only about the cloth I sold. About my mission I spoke only to Aethel.”
Rising, Morcar faced his brother. “Then we go forward as planned. As it happens, there is a Norman mercenary knight who only a few days ago approached me offering his sword. Though I trust not a turncoat, this one by fortune’s chance has been at Talisand and may be of use.
It seems he rode with the Red Wolf only a short while ago.
They disagreed over some matter leaving the mercenary bitter. ”
“Oh?” Edwin raised a brow. “And who might he be?”
“He gave the name Sir Hugue.”
* * *
Renaud and his men neared Exeter and still his thoughts lingered on Lady Serena as they had on the long journey south. He had not wanted to leave her; their relationship was too new, too tenuous. But William’s summons could not be refused.
The sounds of the siege filled the air, interrupting his thoughts, even before he and his knights were close enough to see the old Roman walls.
The projectiles shooting from the Norman catapult made a loud whooshing sound renting the stillness of the countryside.
Close up, he knew the noise would be deafening.
As he and his men drew nearer, he heard the clash of steel upon shields a short distance away.
The Norman knights were practicing the skills they would need when the siege broke through the ancient walls.
Even now, William’s men assaulted those walls, and Renaud paused to study the effects of their efforts.
From where he sat on Belasco, hundreds of knights and men-at-arms circled the red walls.
Arrows rained down from the battlements on those close enough to be within range.
In response, William’s archers launched a blast of arrows tipped in flaming oil.
The sound of the flying shafts was like a rushing wind.
The odor of the pungent oil rose to his nostrils.
Some of William’s men attempted to scale the walls.
From this distance, they looked like ants climbing over a mound of earth, only to be repelled by the defenders at the top with kettles of rocks and scalding oil.
Shrieks of men sent plunging to their deaths reminded him of the ugliness of war.
Though it had been his life for nearly two decades, he longed to see the end of it.
It looked as if William was throwing everything he had at the English rebels, yet still the stubborn walls stood.
Surely there must be a way…
“Look! There lies William’s tent,” shouted Geoff over the tumult.
Renaud turned his attention to the golden leopards on a field of red flying above the largest tent in the middle of those housing William’s army.
“Have Sir Alain and the men find a place for our tents while you and I report to William.”
Geoff passed the orders to the banner man as Renaud made his way toward the tent displaying the royal standard.
He dismounted as Geoff caught up with him. They entered the striped tent together to find William, wearing his hauberk, standing over a table. Several of his closest advisors and knights huddled around him as the king studied a drawing of the walled city.
“Sire.” Renaud dropped to one knee and Geoff followed suit.
“Ah, the wolf comes!” said the king. “Rise, Lord Talisand. We are glad you are here. We have need of you and your men.” With a nod to Geoff, William continued.
“As you have no doubt seen,” he gestured in the direction of the city, “we assault the walls of Exeter and yet the stubborn English remain, over two thousand of them defying our request for their oath of fealty and payment of tribute.”
“I am surprised they refused,” Renaud said. “After all, you have conquered half of England.”
“Humph. We have been up and down with that,” said William.
“First the chief citizens sent a message saying they would not swear allegiance to us, though they would condescend to pay a tribute ‘according to ancient custom’. We suppose they did not get our message when we sacked the towns of Devon on our way here.”
Renaud heard the sarcasm in his king’s voice and knew well enough the citizens had made a grievous error ignoring such warnings. William would show them no mercy if they persisted. “Surely they could not be thinking to hold out against you.”
“Well, they did, mayhap spurred on by the English who joined them from Somerset and Dorset. Then there is Gytha, the mother of Harold Godwinson, to consider. No doubt she has stirred the Saxons to a fervor in their rebellion.”
Renaud remembered Serena’s words describing the woman’s urgent request for her son’s body. A request William had denied.
“We told them their offer of tribute according to ancient custom does not suit,” the king continued. “We will not have subjects on such conditions. We will have no conditions at all!”
“And what of your army?” Renaud asked, incredulous. “Did not the English fear so many?”
“Oh, yea,” said William. “When they heard we had an army, they changed their course. The elders of the city came out to meet us, crying peace, offering hostages and swearing they would do all we asked. But the good citizens within must have disagreed for when we approached the city, we found the gates locked against us. We had the eyes of one hostage put out, and another hanged, all to no avail. The stubborn English have tried our patience overmuch.”
Renaud inwardly cringed at the memory of revenge he had seen William exact when his will had been defied.
“So we brought our army to the city and laid siege. Yet, as you see, the walls still stand. We must have those walls down!”
It was clear to Renaud the affair had put his sire in a most foul mood. The siege must be brought to a successful conclusion, and soon, if any of the English behind the walls were to be spared. He did not want to tell Serena of another bloodbath.
“One of the English had the audacity to insult the king,” said the knight Renaud recognized as Sir Baldwin de Meules, “dropping his chausses and loudly breaking wind.”
The dour look on William’s face told Renaud it had been the final insult.
“How long has the siege gone on?” Renaud asked.
“We ordered the siege begun nearly two weeks ago,” said the king. “The English have manned the walls continuously ever since. Their missiles have taken a toll on our army. With God’s help, I mean to see them pay.”
“How many have we left?” Renaud asked Sir Baldwin.
“Two hundred on horse and more on foot. Some over-hasty assaults early on by enthusiastic knights led to many losses.”
William shrugged at the news of the men he had lost.