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“There will be a keep with a larger hall at its base and asmall chapel, as well as the lord’s solar and chambers for others. ’Twill belarger than some built by William’s command but not so fine as the home of theRed Wolf family in Normandy.”

Serena wondered about the home the Red Wolf had left inorder to seek his fortune in distant England. He had yet to speak of it. Andshe wondered, too, how it would feel to be the lady of the new castle—to be thewife of the unbending knight. Not wishing to dwell on the future rushing towardher, she asked instead, “Why another chapel?”

“Knowing the Red Wolf,” Sir Maurin said with a smile, “hewould want one close for he is a man of faith. But ’twill also serve to satisfythe penance decreed for Norman soldiers who took lives at Hastings.” At herpuzzled expression, he explained, “One year’s penance for each man the knightkilled or, if he does not know the number, then he must do a penance one day aweek for the rest of his life, or he may build a church.”

“I see.” New churches must be rising all over England.“The Red Wolf does not know how many Saxons he killed, does he?”

“Nay, my lady,” the knight said with a guilty expression.“Few of us have a count.”

Serena was not surprised with so many dead at Hastings andall over the south of England. The Norman king had been ruthless. And sheexpected the Red Wolf was adding to his number even now at Exeter. Sheshuddered at the thought of what the battlefield must look like.

Sir Maurin’s gaze followed Cassie as the comely redheadhelped to serve in the hall. Serena had observed the two of them walking nearthe river, so enthralled with each other they appeared ignorant of any whowatched. She was happy for Cassie if that is what her handmaiden wanted. SirMaurin was a good man, even though he was a Norman. And how could she criticizeCassie when she herself would soon be sharing the bed of a Norman knight?

Aethel approached the high table and began refilling thegoblets from the pitcher she carried. Thanking her for the ale, Serena drankher fill, letting out a sigh. Was Aethel still enamored of the Red Wolf? Therewas no love involved, of that Serena was certain. In fact, since Theodric hadwed another, Aethel seemed to care for no one, not even the old thegn whose bedshe had shared. But remembering the way she had waved at Sir Alain as he haddeparted for Exeter, Serena thought one day Aethel might find a man to pleaseher, even a Norman knight.

Just not the Red Wolf.

* * *

The hall was quiet, the tables cleaned and moved against thewalls and the knights and men-at-arms asleep on their pallets when Aethel stoodin the shadows of the entry, waiting for the next step in her plan. The onlynoises now were the men’s snoring where they slept. It was unusually warm, sothere had been no hearth fire that night, and the torches were long sincesnuffed. A lone candle stood vigil in the manor’s entry.

Cassie came from the kitchen and climbed the stairs,carrying a tankard of ale to Sir Niel, the knight who guarded Serena’s door.The long summer days were upon them and, by evening, the air in the manor wasstill. Aethel had known the drink would be welcomed and made certain each nightfor a sennight a different serving woman had carried him the drink. But tonightthe tankard held more than the amber liquid that would quench the knight’sthirst.

Aethel’s knowledge of herbs, learned from her grandmother,made adding a sleeping potion a small matter. And she had done so withoutCassie being aware. Nor would the knight detect any difference in taste, justas Serena had not in the ale Aethel had served her at the evening meal. Thepotion would only bring sleep. Neither would be harmed.

Aethel listened to the conversation between the handmaidenand the young knight.

“Good eve, Sir Niel,” Cassie said as she handed him thetankard.

“Good eve to you, Cassandra. ‘Tis the end of a long day.” Heaccepted the drink. “The ale is appreciated.”

“It is nay more than we did for the old lord and his men,sir knight.”

Sir Niel finished the drink and Cassie took the emptytankard and descended the stairs.

Still in the shadows, Aethel watched expectantly. Since theMercian seller of cloth had departed, she’d been waiting for his return. He hadtold her Earl Morcar had sent him, and she doubted it not for she knew wellMorcar’s purpose. She had seen the look in the eyes of the tall blond Mercianas he gazed upon Serena when he had last visited the old thegn. And then a fewdays ago the message had come, telling her to be prepared for this night.

Aethel told herself she was helping Lady Serena find abetter fate than the Red Wolf. After all, there was so little trust between thetwo of them a guard trailed her every move. And Serena had tried to escape morethan once. So Aethel had planned to help her lady escape again.

She slipped out of the manor, heading toward the posterngate, secure in the belief Serena would be pleased to wed the handsome Mercianearl. Knowing Serena wanted to leave soothed Aethel’s conscience for Sir Alain hadbeen right. She had been jealous. Even as a young girl, her own dark beauty hadnever drawn the boys’ stares as had Serena’s flaxen hair and unusual violeteyes. Aethel had wanted Theodric, yet his gaze always followed Serena. But thethegn would never give his daughter to Theodric, allowing Aethel’s hopes for afuture with him to rise. It had all been for naught.

Knowing the thegn was lonely and had wanted her for a longwhile, it seemed the easier path to become his leman than to take a lesser manas husband. And, though there was no love in the coupling, for a while it hadbeen enough. Sigmund had been kind and Aethel came to care for him. But whenthe thegn was killed, Aethel lost more than a man in her bed; she lost herstatus among the people and the hope Sigmund would one day marry her. Thinkingto regain her position, she had sought the bed of the new Norman lord. But theRed Wolf held himself apart from all the women at Talisand, save for one. Onewho did not want him. One who hated Normans. One who would be pleased to leave.For Aethel did not believe the grand display Serena had put on for the benefitof her Norman captors.

Now Aethel would make two people happy, Lady Serena andMorcar, who would claim her as his bride. What did it matter if she angered theRed Wolf? He would never know it had been she who helped to rob him of hisbride. Yet even as she told herself all this, a thought rumbled around in herhead. Since the night Sir Alain had made his intentions known, she had watchedthe brawny knight who carried the Red Wolf’s standard. That such a man wouldwant her as his wife gave her new hope.

But would he understand why she had aided Serena’s attemptto flee his lord?

* * *

A short time later, Aethel arrived at the postern gate,gratified to see the guard leaning against the palisade timbers softly snoring.She did not have long to wait. In a matter of moments, a man approached dressedas a knight, his cloak falling over his tunic and mail like a dark shadow. Inthe dim light of the half-moon she did not recognize him at first but she knewwho had sent him for he was expected.

As the moonlight fell across the face of the saturnineknight with the dark hair and beard, she stepped back, exclaiming in a harshwhisper, “Sir Hugue!”

“Aye, Aethel. ’Tis I.”

“What are ye doing here? I was expecting a man fromMercia!” Now she was worried. Why would the mercenary sent away in disgracereturn on this night?

“I have been sent by Earl Morcar. I do his bidding now,” hesaid shortly. “Is all ready?”