Free The Red Wolf's Prize by Regan Walker Page A

woman’s honor, she
missed, hitting only his arm.”
    “You may be right. Still, it is curious. Mayhap she refused
to do her best in front of her Norman conquerors.” Renaud rubbed his chin in
contemplation. He was certain the girl could do better than she had. And if
that were so, why had she held back?
    They resumed their stride toward the place where the prizes
were to be given.
    Geoff wondered aloud. “If the girl has a talent with the
bow, why would she hide it when there was a chance to make us Normans look the
fools? She has no fondness for us.”
    “Why indeed? I know not, but I intend to find out. This will
not be the last shooting match at Talisand.”
    Just then, a lad with golden hair streaked across Renaud’s
path. He called out to the boy. “Say there, lad, come here.”
    The boy looked up at the two knights, his smile telling
Renaud he was eager to please. “Yea, sir?”
    “What is your name, boy?”
    “I am called Jamie.”
    “Jamie, can you tell me, of those the Welshman trained to
the bow, who is the best?”
    “Oh, that would be Lady Serena, sir. Rhodri said her arm is
so fast ’tis as if the bow is part of her, as if they are one. She is both fast
and sure. Serena never misses.” Pride gleamed in the young boy’s eyes as he
spoke of his lady.
    Renaud frowned. The lad’s mention of Lady Serena only
reminded Renaud the woman who was to be his bride had defied William’s order, a
lady of many talents it seems, including escape. He remembered Maugris had also
said Lady Serena was good with a bow.
    One of the mercenaries Renaud had dispatched was already
winding his way through Scotland in search of the lady, a man who spoke both
English and Gaelic. Yet it would be some time before he could expect a message.
    He thanked the boy and watched him walk away, relieved there
were some among his new villeins who did not hate Normans. He and Geoff
approached the table set with the awards to be given, and Renaud shoved
thoughts of Lady Serena to the recesses of his mind. “How many of the
Englishmen could stand with our archers?” he asked Geoff.
    “Based on today’s performance, I would venture at least two,
and possibly with more time and training, the other one who competed.”
    “See that those you consider candidates are invited to train
with my archers. When William next calls upon us, we shall take the proficient
ones with us. Now I must see to the prizes. I will pass my own to Sir Maurin.”
     

Chapter 6
     
    The rider approached the gate as Serena watched from the roof
walk. She had gone to the roof that morning to think, as she often did when the
knights engaged in their swordplay outside the palisade, and had spotted the
familiar head of dark curls, the Welsh pony and the small harp and bow dangling
from the saddle. Her heart leapt in her chest.
    Rhodri!
    Lifting her tunic, she ran down the stairs leading from the
roof to a small landing on the outside of the manor and then down another set
of stairs to the ground. She raced across the yard and out the gate guarded by
the Red Wolf’s men.
    When she reached the rider on the pony, she whispered,
“Rhodri, I will see you through the gate. Say nothing until you hear me out.”
    “What are you up to, my lady? And why are you dressed in
such manner and your hair that awful color?”
    “Shssh!” she hissed, as she led his horse forward. To the
Norman guard she smiled sweetly and said, “Sir, ‘tis an old friend of Talisand,
a bard to entertain us.”
    The guard’s harsh eyes examined the Welshman, pausing on the
harp. He nodded and waved them on. By now the Red Wolf’s men knew her, unaware
her recent pleasantries were only an act.
    Serena walked alongside Rhodri’s horse leading him to the
far side of the yard where they could talk without being overheard.
    He reined in his pony, and she looked up at him. “I am in
disguise, Rhodri, as you can plainly see. The Normans have come to Talisand at
the Bastard’s command, and I am