Excerpt of The Rose and the Shield by Sara Bennett

Chapter One

The small band of mercenaries rode out of the shadows of
the forest and drew to a halt. Their leader, Gunnar
Olafson, narrowed his blue eyes against the June sun. He
looked across the meadows of ripening wheat to the dark
rise of keep and ramparts, and beyond that to the vast
expanse of the marshes.

This was Somerford Manor, and it was not as he had
expected.

Gunnar had seen so much waste in his travels about
England, good country lying fallow for want of enough men,
or the will, to plant it. Though he was no farmer, it hurt
Gunnar bitterly, in some fundamental way, to see the land
so abused.

The coming of the Normans had meant more than a new system
of government; in many cases it had meant an entirely new
way of life. Such changes could not be wrought in a year,
or even six. It would take a long time for prosperity to
return to England.

Gunnar had been prepared for similar chaos here at
Somerford. Instead he gazed on a golden harvest so
abundant the grain was almost bursting from the fields,
and the soil beneath appeared well cherished and rich. He
could not help but wonder if this was the Lady Rose's
doing.

He did not want to think so.

He did not want to think well of her.

Gunnar rarely associated with Norman ladies, and this
particular Norman lady was already his enemy. Although he
had never met Lady Rose, he was prepared to wish her ill.

"There are strong wooden ramparts around the bailey." Ivo,
his second-in-command, leaned closer and gestured across
the fields with his black-gloved hand. "And within the
wall there is a stone keep -- there are not many stone
keeps built on manors as smallas this. Aye, their defenses
look good, Captain. They are prepared."

"But prepared for what?" Gunnar said in reply. "Are they
hoping to keep out Lord Radulf's enemies? Or Lord Radulf
himself?"

Somerford Manor straddled a corner of the great Lord
Radulf's Crevitch estates, and shared boundaries with the
lands of Lord Fitzrmorton and Lord Wolfson. Gunnar knew
that neither of these latter two barons was an ally of
Lord Radulf, the legendary King's Sword, and both were
wont to turn greedy eyes in his direction.

Lord Radulf had sent to Wales for Gunnar and his men
because he had a bad feeling about Somerford Manor. An
itch, he had told Gunnar in his low, husky voice. The itch
had begun when he accidentally intercepted a sealed letter
from Somerford to Lord Fitzmorton, asking for help in
obtaining mercenaries. He wanted Gunnar to scratch it,
while at the same time not upsetting his wife, the Lady
Lily, who had made Lady Rose her protégé ...

"You really believe this Lady Rose is in league with Lord
Radulf's enemies?"

Gunnar shrugged off Ivo's question. "This is what we have
come to find out."

"They will not suspect us?"

"They have sent for mercenaries and that is what we are.
Why should they suspect us? They do not know it is Lord
Radulf's orders we obey."

"And if the job is done well, then Radulf will see you
have Somerford Manor as reward, Captain."

"Aye. But for those of you who want to stay here with me,
there is a welcome place. For those who want to go, there
will be recompense."

The others murmured their agreement, but Ivo shot his
captain an uncertain look. "We have never dealt with a
woman before, Gunnar."

Gunnar shrugged off Ivo's doubts. "A traitor is a traitor
whether it be man, woman, or child. We will do our job,
Ivo, as always. It may be our last."

Ivo nodded and scratched his chin. "Our last, aye. You
know I am with you, Captain, as always."

Unsmiling, Gunnar turned to look at each of them, feeling
the weight of their lives heavy in his hands, memorizing
their faces. These five men had been with him for more
years than he cared to remember: Ivo, Sweyn, Alfred,
Reynard, and Ethelred. They trusted him, they relied on
his steel strength and calm stillness, and they in turn
gave him a reason to stay alive in a world he found
increasingly lackluster.

Their fellowship was coming to an end.

"Follow me he said quietly, and knew they would.

Gunnar led them from the shadowy forest and along the
rough track in the direction of Somerford Keep. The
meadows of wheat waved about them.

What would it be like to be master of all this? To be lord
of Somerford Manor? Certainly he would have no trouble
protecting and fighting for the land and the people; being
a mercenary had taught him well when it came to warfare.
But a man, even a lord, could not be always fighting.
Mayhap he would marry as his mother was always telling him
he should.

I am an old woman. I need grandchildren, my son. And you
need a wife. If you remain alone you will grow bitter and
nasty, and you do not want that, Gunnar, do you?

He smiled at the memory of her voice, her pale eyes all
but closed and yet seeing so much. He had made her wait a
long time, but maybe at last the moment had come. Soon, if
his future turned out the way he hoped, he would need a
wife. Not a Norman lady -- they were for the wealthy or
the ambitious, and being neither, he had no use for them.
No, give him a good earthy peasant woman. Someone he could
hold without fearing she might shatter, or kiss without
going down on his knees for permission. A plain, good
woman to keep him warm at night; that was what he needed
to cure this melancholy that had lately afflicted him.

Aye, a woman in his bed and his own land beyond his door!

"The gate is open."

It was Ivo who spoke, drawing him back to the matter at
hand. Gunnar frowned. The gate was open. Wide open. Such a
lack of caution or care was not good. If they had been a
band of outlaws, they could have ridden straight in. Five
minutes, and all who lived would have been dead ...