Page 23 of The Red Wolf’s Prize

His chamber door opened and Geoff strolled in. “Are youstill wanting to review the changes to the stables?”

“Aye, I’m long ready.”

“Then I’ve good news. The work is done. Sir Niel awaits yourexamination of the new building. I think you will be pleased. There is room forall the horses and the groom and stable boys.”

“Splendid!” He strode to the door, eager for a chance tostretch his legs. “We will have need of it as I fear Talisand will have harshwinters.”

Renaud descended the stairs, Geoff on his heels. Lookinginto the hall as they passed, Renaud saw the long tables crowded with knightsand men-at-arms sitting down to the evening meal. He would delay his dinner tosee the new stables.

The smell of freshly cut wood filled Renaud’s nostrils as heentered the new structure, along with the scent of hay and horse, familiarsmells to a knight.

“This will serve us well,” he said to the young Sir Niel,standing inside the large open door where he waited for his lord. Niel had beenRenaud’s squire before Mathieu and knighted only a few years before Hastings.The scar on his jaw was a lasting reminder of his bravery in that battle, butwith his light brown hair and blue eyes, he was still attractive to woman,mayhap more so.

Fresh hay had already been laid in the stalls and stableboys were leading in some of the horses. Renaud strolled down the middle aisle,taking in the new construction that provided more than a dozen timberedpartitions on each side. As he walked along, his gaze drifted up to the secondlevel where a large hayloft had been added.

“There’s enough room above to house the stable boys,” saidSir Niel, “and a separate chamber for the groom below.”

Renaud rested his hand on the knight’s shoulder. “The workappears sound, the structure proof against the cold drafts of winter. The menhave done well.”

“Your knights and their squires are content the horses willnay freeze come Christmastide, my lord,” said a grinning Sir Niel.

Renaud nodded as Mathieu joined them. “I’ve already broughtyour horses in, my lord,” said the squire. “They are fed and groomed and in thefar stalls. We have oats aplenty.”

“Good work, Mathieu. And where is my young page?”

“Polishing your sword and cleaning your shield, and beforethat he helped with the horses. He’s a good lad, Jamie is.”

“Aye, he is. See that you both eat. The meal has begun.”Geoff cast a longing look toward the hall, causing Renaud to add, “And haveMaggie send some food for Sir Geoffroi and me. We will eat here.”

“Yea, sir.” The squire dipped his head and took his slimbody off toward the armory.

Renaud turned to Niel. “You as well. Go eat your supper. Thegroom and stable boys can answer any questions we might have.” He wanted theopportunity to get to know the lads who’d been retained to care for theknights’ horses.

“It feels like those times we rode with Duke William,” saidGeoff, when some while later, they sat on crates eating their meal.

“Aye, it seems a familiar pastime,” agreed Renaud.

An hour later, Renaud had finished the meal Maggie had senthim. The rabbit stew had been tasty. And the conversation he and Geoff hadshared with the stable lads had filled him with excitement. He would breedBelasco, his gray stallion, to some of the English horses for a stronger stableof horses.

Content the new stable met all his requirements, he stood togo. “You can release the carpenters to turn their attention to William’scastle,” he told Geoff. “Come, let us leave the lads to the horses. I have acraving for a drink.”

“Aye, that would be most welcome.”

Renaud crossed the yard, hearing faint music coming from thehall. Opening the door he was confronted with a voice from heaven itself. Thehall was dark save for the light from the central hearth and the torches stillburning at the edges of the large rectangular room. He and Geoff stood in theshadows, listening.

Aethel, who had apparently been watching for him, walked intheir direction carrying tankards of ale. Her brown eyes conveyed the sameinvitation Renaud had seen before, but gaining no different reaction from him,she took her leave. Renaud drank deeply having grown accustomed to the darkbrew and turned his attention to the picture before him.

Sarah sat on a stool in front of the hearth, singing in aforeign tongue. It might be Welsh as he had heard the language before. Her longbrown plait lay over one shoulder, drawing his attention as she inclined herhead with the song. The light of the fire reflected on her face, rendering herskin the color of honey. Facing her, on another stool, sat a man with curlyblack hair and short-cropped beard. He was clothed in the colors of the forestover which he’d donned a brown leather jerkin. In his arms he held a smallharp, his fingers moving rapidly over the strings as he plucked a lively tune.

A circle of children sat at their feet, many with chinsresting in their upturned palms, their elbows braced on their crossed legswhile they listened with rapt attention.

Sarah’s voice lifted high then dipped low, sending notesflowing about the room like magical ribbons of sound. When the man’s tenorvoice joined hers, the two voices entwined like lovers as they smiled at thechildren and at each other.

Renaud watched transfixed. The servant girl was morebeautiful, more animated than he had seen her before. Her hand reached out tocaress the cheek of a child. There was love in her eyes. She will make agood mother.

Without turning his head, he asked Geoff, “Who is thatsinging with Sarah?”

“It must be the Welsh bard, Rhodri. I had heard he arrivedand intended to provide us with entertainment. We were so consumed by the workon the stables I forgot to mention it. You remember, Ren. He is the one who washere before at the old lord’s invitation. The boy Eric told me the girl had thevoice of an angel. He was nay wrong.”