Chapter 5 #3
“Do you know if the sword-maker was among those fighting today?” he asked.
“I doubt it. Feigr may be a supplier of swords but as far as I know, he has yet to raise one against anyone, let alone a French knight. He is an artist, devoted to his craft and to his daughter. But after what happened to Inga, he may have a new use for his swords.” Even to her own ears the words sounded like an accusation.
She was frustrated she had not been able to sink her blade into the flesh of the man responsible.
The knight was silent for a moment, then his gaze met hers. “I am sorry for what happened to your friend. Any of the Red Wolf’s knights would feel the same, but then Talisand is a very different place.”
“Talisand?” She could not recall hearing the name before.
“My home, two days’ ride west of here. ’Tis a very pleasant shire where both English and Normans live together in peace.”
“I cannot imagine it.”
“Given the violence you have witnessed, I can well understand.”
Reaching the twins’ chamber, she silently opened the door and peeked in, Sir Geoffroi looking over her shoulder.
Magnus, who had followed them, padded in and sniffed at the children.
Both slept, the white bandage around Ottar’s head clearly visible in the light of the glowing coals in the brazier.
She tiptoed into the room and kissed each child.
Retreating quietly to the open door where the knight stood, she waited for Magnus to join her and then pulled the door closed.
Sir Geoffroi scratched Magnus’ ears in a gesture that was oddly reminiscent of her father’s affection for the hound.
“’Tis good the children sleep,” she whispered.
“How is the lad?”
“He seems to be well. I have chided him for following after the men. I do not think he will be so foolish again. Not after he endured his sister’s tears. They are twins, you know.”
“Nay, I did not know but I did observe they were about the same age.”
The light in the narrow space in which they stood was dim and the knight was very close, his shoulders nearly spanning the corridor.
When he dropped his gaze to her lips, without thinking she opened her mouth to expel a breath.
Heat flowed between them. He wanted to kiss her, she could feel it. For a long moment, neither said a word.
“You are very beautiful, Emma. Be careful.” Then he clenched his jaw and turned, walking toward the stairs. She was amazed when Magnus followed him.
She did not move at first, but watched him walk away and felt a pain in her heart she had not felt in years.
A remembered parting. The memory of saying goodbye to Halden the last day she would ever see him as he blithely stepped onto his ship and sailed away.
Would she see Sir Geoffroi again? Did she want to?
He was a Norman, after all, one who had killed some of her countrymen this very day.
Yet he was an enemy who had shown her kindness.
No other man had caused her to want again something she had once lost.
She and Halden had been young when they came to realize their love for each other.
They had wanted to marry then, but her father had bid them wait.
And they had. They were wed but a year when Halden died.
A trader whose other loves were his ships and the sea, it had been those other loves that had taken him from her.
When his ship was lost in a storm, she had been so distraught, she lost their babe she had only recently become aware was growing within her.
Halden was her only love and she had thought not to wed again.
With Ottar and Finna, she believed her life full. Now she had to wonder.
She followed the knight to the stairs. As she had once missed Halden, she would miss Sir Geoffroi and the sound of his knight’s spurs in her home. The realization was troubling. She hardly knew him.
Suddenly curious to know what his king would do in York, she asked, “What will happen now?”
He paused and looked over his shoulder. “William would have another castle.”
A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. She hated the wooden edifice that stood above the river at the south end of the city, a symbol of the hated Norman king. “A castle the people of York will no doubt be forced to build.”
He ignored her statement and paused at the top of the stairs. “Stay away from town for the next few days, Emma. William’s army will be seeking revenge for the death of FitzRichard and until they are gone, no woman will be safe.”
She thought of her friend lying hurt and defiled in the bed where she herself would sleep this night. “Your advice is well-taken.”
“In war, not many innocents are spared,” he said with a glance in her direction as he descended the stairs to where his men waited, the sound of his spurs on the steps ringing in her ears.
She watched them leave, wondering if she would see the blond knight again.
The Normans had just departed when a knock sounded. She unlatched the door, thinking it might be Sir Geoffroi returned but, instead, her father suddenly loomed before her, looking exasperated.
He crossed the threshold with a long stride. “I thought they would never leave! I saw their horses and have been huddling in the freezing cold, waiting. Why were the French knights here? Did they threaten you?”
She kissed her father on the cheek. “Nay, they did not. ’Tis late and you look tired.
” Letting her eyes rove over his tunic, stained with Norman blood, she added, “You will want to wash. Why not do that while I fetch you some mead and find you somewhere to sleep. Feigr is in your bed. Then I will tell you what has happened. Tomorrow you must tell me what you have seen. I’ve been worried. ”
* * *
“Did you notice the things scattered about the chamber where I laid the sword-maker?” asked Alain when they had returned to the castle. Geoff had called for wine that he, Alain and Mathieu now shared.
The hall was nearly vacant, only a few knights and men-at-arms lingered over their wine, having finished their evening meal. The celebration of the day’s victory was largely over.
Geoff turned his goblet in his hands, the rich ruby color of the wine reminding him of the tunic she had worn.
“Yea, I saw them. ’Twould appear the servant, Artur, is not the only man living there.”
“Has the woman mentioned a husband?” Alain asked.
Geoff took a drink of his wine and set down his goblet, his gaze meeting Alain’s. “She told me she is three years widowed. But now I am forced to consider she harbors a man in her home, mayhap one of the rebels.”
“A lover?” questioned Alain.
Geoff felt a scowl building on his face.
“Or a brother,” suggested Mathieu. “He occupies a separate bedchamber, does he not?”
A brother! Geoff remembered what he’d seen in the room and his frown returned. Emma now shared a bed with Inga, mayhap to bring the girl comfort. “Whoever he is, he is a large man.”
“How do you know that?” asked Alain.
“The shoes he left behind were as long as mine.”
“What do you know of her?” asked Alain.
“In truth,” admitted Geoff, “very little. By her appearance, I would judge she is in some part Danish. Emma of Normandy, you will recall, married the Dane who became King of England.”
“Aye,” said Alain. “And this Emma must be a woman of some wealth to have such a fine home. ’Tis twice the size of any cottage and with many bedchambers.”
“And there is a stable, but ’tis not large,” added Mathieu.
“She is also a caring sort,” observed Geoff.
“The children who live with her are not hers. She has obviously taken them in. And the girl, Inga, and the sword-maker are now under her care as well. ’Tis a house of the recovering and she the one who graciously cares for them out of her charity.
Not many would help strangers with such open hands. ”
“The lad I carried back from the forest, is he one of the children?” asked Alain.
Geoff pictured in his mind Ottar and his twin. “Yea, and you have yet to see his sister. She is a shy little angel.”
“Would William be angry if he knew we had helped the lady?” asked Mathieu.
“Aye, if she houses a rebel,” said Geoff. And if the king knew his knight would willingly help her no matter she did.
* * *
“What of the uprising, Father?” Emma sat on a stool at his feet by the hearth fire, her chin resting on her upturned hands, her elbows on her knees.
They had just finished breaking their fast. Finna was with her brother, who was still recovering, and Inga was with Feigr.
They had not been able to speak over the meal, but now they were alone and Emma was eager to hear his version of the events of the day before. “Tell me what happened.”
He sat back, running his hand through his long hair, bleached by the sun. He wore a fresh tunic of dark green, belted with fine leather to which was affixed his seax, a longer one than her own. In his hand was a goblet of mead.
“We were not ready,” he said with a sigh. “The retreat that followed the first encounter was disorderly, an embarrassment. Many were killed.” He took a drink of the honey wine.
She reached out a hand and touched his arm. “I am saddened for their families.” She remembered the bodies she had seen in the clearing and shuddered. Mayhap some who were killed in the fighting had been those she knew. “Have we lost so soon?”
“Nay, Daughter, ’tis not over.” He took another drink.
“What will you do?”
“Today Cospatric and I leave on my ship, anchored in the Humber, for King Swein’s court. We will urge him to send the ships we asked for. Edgar has agreed to join us. From there, we will go to Scotland to see King Malcolm and gather new recruits to our cause.”
“So there will be more trouble in York.” She spoke with mixed feelings, knowing more battles would mean more dead, yet wanting desperately to see her people shake off the Normans, for they had all been made serfs with the coming of the Conqueror.
“If we are to gain our freedom, Daughter, how can it be otherwise?”
Seeing his goblet was empty, she got up and poured him some more. “I suppose you are right,” Emma admitted, worried for him and the people she cared for. “How long will you be gone?” She sat again on the stool.
He fingered his beard. “I cannot say. Mayhap for the summer. Look for me when the grain grows ripe.”
Her spirits fell. “So long?”
“It will require time to sail to Denmark and then to Scotland. And more time to bring order to our purpose. We cannot risk another defeat. We must draw our allies to us.”
“You mean the Danes?” Though he had been an English high sheriff and a wealthy thegn, Emma knew they traced their lineage to the Danish kings so it was not surprising her father would seek his allies among them.
“Yea, the Danes. We must have King Swein’s ships and men.
And there will be others who will join us.
Even now Edgar prepares messages he will send all over England, urging rebellion.
” At her concerned look, he hastily added, “The Danes will come, Emma. You will see. Swein believes he was promised the throne of England. York was once the capital of the Danish lands. He will not give that up so easily.”
Her gaze drifted to the flames in the hearth. “Kings and their promises! Too easily given, too easily withdrawn. It seems Edward the Confessor promised many the throne of England, including the Norman Bastard who vexes York. At least he claims it was promised to him.”
“Aye, well there are many opinions on that. Besides, York is special to the Danes. The other Yorkshire thegns and I are fortifying sites on the Humber to be ready to receive them.”
His face exuded confidence now, no longer was he the discouraged man he had been for some time.
“Father, how much more can the people endure?” She was thinking of Feigr and Inga when she asked, but also of Ottar’s young body on the snow-covered ground and the other dead she had seen. “So many have been wounded, so many gone from this life.”
“They will have to endure more if we are to have our freedom. The Normans have ravaged York, Emma. Even the Minster has been made the object of scorn for they violated sanctuary to take some of our men. A church, by God! You told me yourself what Inga and her father have suffered. I have heard worse tales of the Normans’ brutality.
We cannot allow such outrage to continue. ”
She dropped her gaze in resignation. He was right, she knew it.
“Yesterday,” her father continued, “after the Normans defiled the Minster, the archbishop still urged us to submit. It was a pathetic and wasted entreaty. None of the men who were there would agree. Ask Artur. He was among them.”
“I believe you, given what I have seen… Ottar, Inga and Feigr.” How could they submit to those who would hurt innocents?
“They will be avenged, Daughter. Do not lose hope.”
Emma rose. “If you must leave today, at least I can see you have clean clothes and a hearty meal to take with you.”