The Red Wolf's Prize (5 page)

“The maid does not look willing to me, Sir Hugue.” Sir
Geoffroi’s voice brooked no excuse. “What were you thinking? Do you not know
the Red Wolf’s rules concerning the women?”

“Aye, I know his rules,” Sir Hugue scoffed. “We are not to
take a lady
unwilling. But surely that does not include the servants!”

The knight named Sir Geoffroi narrowed his eyes at the other
man’s words. “It does and you know it.”

Serena was aware that most knights only respected the virtue
of women of their own rank, but she had heard the words of the Red Wolf. He
held his men to a higher standard. Though she had doubted the truth of it at
the time, now she believed.

Before Sir Hugue could answer, Serena spoke, her voice livid
with disdain. “Even if that could excuse him, which it does not, Eawyn is no
servant. She is the lady of the west manor and widow of Ulrich, one of the old
thegn’s most trusted men. Though she is now on foot, she would have ridden here
on a horse. Her black palfrey cannot be far. This Norman should die for the
offense he has shown this gentle woman.” She let go of Eawyn and raised her bow,
again aiming at the knight’s chest, sincere in her desire to see the miscreant
dead.

Sir Geoffroi’s hand on her arm stayed her pull on the arrow.
“Put down the bow, Sarah. I will protect Eawyn.” The blond knight took off his
mantle and draped it around the sobbing woman’s shoulders, covering her
nakedness. Glaring at the knight before him, he ordered, “Come with me, Sir
Hugue.”

Reluctantly, Serena lowered her bow. The knight called Sir
Hugue uttered a disgruntled noise and followed Sir Geoffroi. The blond knight
rested his hand protectively on Eawyn’s shoulders, and with gentleness guided
her in the direction of the manor.

Her heart still racing from the encounter, Serena went in
search of her rabbits and Eawyn’s horse. She hoped Sir Geoffroi would report to
his lord what had happened. The Red Wolf would see the knight who had harmed
Eawyn was punished.

Or Serena would see to it herself.

“I tell you, Ren, the servant girl Sarah would have killed
the mercenary, no matter how many arrows it took her to see the task done. She
had already managed to strike him in the arm. You should have heard her when
she told him he would soon be in hell. Had I not been riding by and heard the
widow’s screams I am certain the mercenary would now be lying cold and dead
among the trees with arrows sticking out of his various parts.”

Looking up from the castle plans spread over the table in
his chamber, Renaud watched Geoff pace the room. It was clear this servant girl
had gained the respect of his most senior knight. He sat back. “Why was Sarah
in the woods?” She should not have been alone. Anything could have happened to
her. The mercenary might have found her instead of the other woman.

“She was hunting rabbits for the cook. Apparently she
recovered her bow from among those we had stored in the armory. I suppose that
was a good thing.”

“The girl hunts?” Renaud raised a brow. He knew she had been
trained by the bard to handle a bow, but he had thought it was only for sport.

“Maggie says she does, though I had not really thought much
about it ’til now. ’Tis most unusual for a serving wench.”

“Yea, but she was one of the servants Sir Maurin recovered
that first night. Sarah told me a Welshman the old lord invited here taught
many to use the bow, including her. I had not realized she hunted as well.”

“I’ve not seen servants taught archery,” Geoff said, drawing
his brows together. “The thegn must have been an unusual man.”

“We know he was. But why was the widow in the woods alone?”

“She came to let you know she has remained in the west manor
she occupied with her husband. From what she told me, Sir Hugue dragged her
from her horse.”

The thought of any woman being dragged from a horse and made
to suffer the lust of one of his knights sent Renaud into a rage. “Damn the
mercenary! He knows the rules.”

“Eawyn told me her husband was killed with the English who
fought the Norwegian, Harald Hardrada, at Stamford Bridge.”

“Does she also bear hatred for Normans?” He would not be
surprised given what she’d experienced. Even if the widow’s husband had not
been slain by a Norman, Renaud was keenly aware the English blamed them for all
that had happened since Hastings, and now she had been nearly raped by one of
his own.

“From what I can tell, Eawyn is a gentle lady and, unlike
the servant girl Sarah, not given to strident disdain for her new masters.”

“Sir Hugue has not long been with us, has he?” Renaud
wondered what punishment would satisfy the lady and his own need for justice.

“Yea, not long. I do not trust him, Ren. He knew your rules—they
all do. He simply chose to ignore them.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the hall with Sir Maurin and some of the men. His wound
has been tended.”

“I take no joy in losing a man, even a mercenary, and a
hundred stripes on the back of a fool availith little. But he must serve as an
example to those who would question my orders, especially when it comes to the
honor of Talisand’s women. ’Twas my honor he besmirched as well as hers, since
I assured the women they would be safe.”

“Your knights know why you feel as you do. They do not
question your rules and, at the risk of the Red Wolf’s ire, none would
challenge them. But there are not enough whores at Talisand to satisfy their
lust. That is why they work so hard to win the affections of the young women in
the village. Many hope to marry and settle here.”

That his men wanted to stay at Talisand pleased him. “I
shall discipline the mercenary.” Renaud set aside his drawings and rose. “Come,
let us see to this unpleasant task.”

* * *

Serena looked up as the murmurings of the Normans came to a
sudden halt when the Red Wolf strode through the doorway leading from the manor
into the hall. His face bore a thunderous expression, and his hands were curled
into fists at his side. She could feel the anger flowing from him, and stepped
back, curious to see what he would do to one of his own who had disobeyed his
command. Despite her intention to hate the new lord of Talisand, she was glad
for his anger, his confident manner and the deferential nods from his men. They
would not question his discipline.

The hall was crowded with knights and a few of the strong
men of Talisand, including Leppe, Alec and Theodric, the blond giant who had
been her father’s captain. She was glad he had stayed, though she knew it was
difficult for him to serve a Norman. But he had a family to think of.

Serena had asked Sir Geoffroi if she and Eawyn could be
present. Reluctant at first to grant her request, Serena had pleaded with him,
saying Eawyn had a right to know what would happen to the knight who tried to
violate her. Sir Geoffroi had relented.

The Red Wolf stepped briskly to where Sir Hugue stood,
guarded by Sir Maurin, who had carried Serena back to the manor that first
night.

“Sir Hugue,” began the Red Wolf, “you have violated a
standard to which I hold all of my men. If Sir Geoffroi had not discovered your
attack on the young widow, had you succeeded, the penalty would have been
death.”

Sir Hugue paled in the face of his lord’s wrath.

“William himself has decreed such before,” stated the Red Wolf.
“Still, while you will not forfeit your life for what fell short of your vile
intent, you will be punished. Twenty lashes and you will leave Talisand, never
to return. I refuse to count among my knights a man without honor.”

Sir Hugue’s eyes flamed in rebellion but he held his tongue.
In the faces of the Norman knights, Serena saw acceptance of their leader’s
judgment, even respect. She was confident there would be no second chance for
this defiler of women. And with that knowledge came another revelation. For the
second time, Serena wondered at the powerful knight to whom she had been given
by the Norman king. The Red Wolf’s uncompromising character had stirred a
feeling inside her that she did not comprehend. Mayhap it was the same respect
displayed by his men. Mayhap it was more. Those same tingling feelings she’d
experienced when he stroked her palm returned. Against her will, she was drawn
to the uncompromising knight. Yet at the same time, she wondered what
punishment he would mete out for her, who had deceived him and denied him the
wife he was due.

Sir Maurin took Sir Hugue by the arm and, with another
knight, led him toward the door to the yard where presumably the punishment
would be carried out.

The Red Wolf turned to Eawyn, his eyes first pausing on
Serena. “Eawyn, I am sorry for what has happened. I know you came but to speak
with me. I welcome you.”

Eawyn had calmed, but her cheeks were still flushed and
stained with tears. Serena had taken her to the chamber above stairs and given
her one of the Lady Serena’s gowns to replace the one that was ruined,
explaining to the others that Lady Serena would have done no less. Sir Geoffroi
stood on Eawyn’s other side lending the young woman his strength as she leaned
close to him.

“Thank you, my lord,” Eawyn said to the Red Wolf. “I did but
want to tell you I was living in the west manor should you have need of it for
your knights.”

“You can stay there for the present, Eawyn, but I will have
one of my men escort you back. Do you dwell there alone?”

“Nay, my lord. I have a female servant who works at the
manor, a stable boy and men who dwell nearby and tend the fields and see to the
stock. The men have all sworn fealty to you. I know I should not have come to
Talisand alone, but I had done so before, and I did not want to take the men
from their work as they plant the new wheat.”

He nodded and turned to Sir Geoffroi. “See that one of the
men escorts the lady back to the west manor.”

“Would it be acceptable, my lord, if I undertook the task?”
asked the blond knight.

Serena did not miss the tenderness in Sir Geoffroi’s eyes as
he glanced at Eawyn. She remembered his kindness to her friend in the clearing.

The Red Wolf gave his knight a curious glance before
nodding. “As you wish, Sir Geoffroi.”

* * *

Tired, Renaud climbed the stairs to his chamber, every muscle
in his body tense from the trials of the day. The duties of being lord of
Talisand were ones he readily accepted, even looked forward to, but they did
not allow him the single focus that warfare did. It was a different kind of
fatigue, not so much bone weary as mind weary, and it left its mark.

When he reached his chamber, the door was ajar. Thinking it
might be his young squire’s doing, he pushed it open and surveyed the room,
looking for Mathieu’s brown head of hair. The usually dark chamber was aglow
with light from candles set on each of the tables and rush lights near the bed.
Renaud was instantly wary. It was not Mathieu’s habit to spend the candles so
freely.

His eyes were drawn to the bed cover, which had been turned
down. Resting upon it was a woman, the same dark-eyed wench who served him wine
at the evening meal.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. As he said the words,
he realized the question was unnecessary. The woman was in his bed, her dark
hair splayed over the pillow and her breasts barely covered by the thin
undertunic she wore. Her intent was easily discerned.

“I thought ye might want some company m’lord.”

“Where is Mathieu?”

“I sent him away, thinking ye might prefer to be private.”

She rose up and sat back on her heels, the effect being to
push her breasts out in blatant offering.

The woman was attractive and clearly had seduction in mind.
But she held no appeal. Mayhap it was her dark eyes. There was only one woman
at Talisand he wanted in his bed and her eyes were the color of violets.

“I appreciate your offer, Aethel…is it? But not tonight.”

“Yea, m’lord, I be Aethel.” She climbed off the bed, and
came to stand in front of him, reaching her palm to his chest. “Ye’re a fine
man, m’lord. I would be proud to warm yer bed. Are ye certain ye’ll not be
wanting me this night?”

Her scent of heavy spices wrapped around him like a cape as
she sensually slid her palm up his chest to his neck. He stopped her progress,
pulling her arm from his body. “Quite certain.”

A knock sounded on the door. Renaud was relieved, hoping his
squire had returned. After the day he’d had, he had no desire to deal with the
schemes of this woman. But when he opened the door, Sarah stood before him.

Merde
!

Sarah’s gaze shifted from his face to where Aethel stood to
the side. Renaud clamped his teeth on another oath.

Averting her gaze, Sarah said, “Forgive me, my lord. I was
told Mathieu had need of me.”

Before he could ask her to stay, she hurried away, her
cheeks flaming in what he assumed was embarrassment at the scene she had
witnessed.

A feeling of regret washed over him. He sighed and turned to
the scantily clad woman “Out!”

Disappointment and anger flashed in Aethel’s dark eyes as
she grabbed the robe she had draped over a chest and stomped toward the door.

Reaching for the handle, she looked back over her shoulder.
“She will nay have ye, m’lord.”

“Of whom do you speak?”

“Sarah, m’lord. She hates all Normans.”

“Aethel?”

“Yea, m’lord?”

“Never come to my chamber again.”

Without another word, the woman departed, briskly closing
the door behind her.

Renaud poured himself a goblet of wine, took a large swallow
and slumped onto the edge of his bed. What was it about women that produced
such different reactions? Aethel, who came willingly, though uninvited, to his
bed, and Sarah, who he was certain would deny him even a kiss? It might be
because Sarah was still a maiden, but he knew it was more. Sarah was a proud
English
maiden who had no love for his kind. He was certain Aethel would not care about
a man’s origins if he pleased her in bed. But to Sarah, the Red Wolf was the
Norman who, along with his liege, had conquered her people.

So, why was he so attracted to her? It was not her dull
brown hair, or her attitude, though it might be her violet eyes and her lithe
form. What man would fail to be attracted to her lush curves? Even her
servant’s attire did not hide them. But there was something more—something in
the way she held herself, the way she looked him in the eye as if they were
equals, and her courage in facing down the mercenary. She was like no woman he
knew. After the women of William’s court, the novelty of a woman like Sarah,
even though a servant, was refreshing.

* * *

“I believe I am in love,” said Geoff as he took his place
next to Renaud at the dais the next day, a blissful smile on his face.

Renaud considered his friend. He had a dazed look about him
like he was waking from a dream. “And what, or should I say,
who
has
brought about this revelation?”

“Eawyn insisted I stay for a meal and the food she prepared
was better than that at Rouen. It did not lack for being served by such a
lovely woman either…hair the color of a raven’s wing and eyes like a summer
sky. She invited me to stay the night.” Renaud could not hide his surprise.
Seeing it, Geoff added, “In an alcove reserved for guests, of course. Yea, I
think it must be love.”

“I see. Well, if you can shake yourself from the dream,
Geoff, I want you to plan an archery contest for the morrow. I would see my archers
compete with those trained by the Welshman, including any of Talisand’s women
who would want to participate.” He had not forgotten that Sarah used a bow.

“The men would like that, Ren. It will give them a chance to
demonstrate their prowess as archers and interact with the younger women. Will
you compete?”