Chapter 6 #2
Geoff chuckled and turned to see Mathieu with one of the red deer strapped behind his saddle. “Yea, I have been seeing a goblet of wine and a juicy slice of venison in my mind for the last hour.”
With his raised arm, Geoff drew the men to a halt. Just as he did, the wailing sound of a wounded animal rent the air, sending an eerie shiver down his spine.
“What in the name of Saint Peter is that?” bellowed Alain.
“’Tis not far, sir,” observed Mathieu. “Do you want me to go see?”
Geoff hesitated, thinking. The sound had been an eerie one, not easily identified. He remembered that rebels hid in this same forest.
“Hold, Mathieu. Let us go together. I would see this for myself.” Geoff ordered the other knights to take their bounty back to the castle, while he, Alain and Mathieu remained.
He waited until the sound of thundering of hooves died away, then urged his companions deeper into the woods.
“Come, let us see what beast cries from the forest.”
They walked the horses through the underbrush of the dense stands of pine. The wail turned into a long trailing howl as the beast shrieked its suffering.
“There!” shouted Mathieu. “Across that dense hedge, ’tis a wolf caught in a trap.”
Through the thick foliage, Geoff caught a glimpse of fur, a rough, dark gray coat of a large animal. “’Tis no wolf,” he said, “’tis Magnus, Emma’s hound, or one just like it. Looks like his leg is caught in a snare.”
Geoff cautiously walked Athos nearer to where the giant hound was desperately gnawing at the snare around its back leg.
Between them was a thick hedge of tangled undergrowth.
With every movement of the hound, he imagined the snare tightening, causing the hound more pain as it cut into his leg.
Already, blood dripped from where the wire had sliced into its flesh.
“Poor beast,” murmured Mathieu from behind him.
“Aye,” acknowledged Alain. “If we had not found him, the hound might have chewed off his leg trying to escape. Wild animals do, you know.”
“Or the wolves may have taken their revenge,” suggested Geoff, dismounting and slowly walking toward the hedge that was between him and the hound.
He would have to crawl through the underbrush.
Dropping to his hands and knees, he began to push his shoulders through the hedge.
A wave of anxiety flowed over him as the darkness of the thick bushes closed about him.
He hated places that were closed in with no light.
It reminded him of that time when he was a boy.
Refusing to think of it, he closed his eyes and pushed through.
Thankfully, after only a short distance, he emerged into light.
Rising, he took off his gloves and tucked them into his belt.
The experience in the dense bushes had left him sweating.
Aware his companions were watching, he wiped the sweat from his brow and walked to the hound and knelt.
He reached out his hand, still uncertain if it was Magnus.
The hound’s eyes were wild with fright. If it were Magnus, he hardly looked himself.
From behind him, Alain urged caution. “Best be careful, he may bite. He looks mad with terror.”
“Magnus,” Geoff softly spoke to the hound. “You know me, Magnus. Do not fear. I will free you.”
At his voice, the hound calmed. His dark eyes, looking more like those of Magnus, intelligent and keen, followed Geoff’s every move.
He extended his bare hand to the hound’s nose, letting him sniff. A wet tongue lapped at his fingers, telling Geoff he’d found Emma’s dog. Pleased at the trust shown him, Geoff patted the rough fur on Magnus’ head. “’Tis all right, boy, I will soon have you free.”
“You’ve a way with the creature, sir,” Mathieu said, dismounting. “May I help?”
“First, I must free him and see the damage the snare has wrought.”
Geoff looked at the bloody leg just above the rear paw. He drew his knife from his waist and sliced through the thin wire. Magnus whimpered and when the hound realized he was free, tried to rise, but unsteady on his wounded leg, he fell to the ground with a groan and commenced licking the wound.
Geoff sat and lifted the leg onto his lap. “Let me see, Magnus.” The hound did not resist but moaned. The wound was bad and if not tended, could result in the hound losing the leg, or worse.
Alain circled around the bushes and forced his way through the thick underbrush. He came to Geoff’s side and crouched, handing Geoff a cloth. “Here, take this for the bleeding.”
Geoff wrapped the cloth snugly around the hound’s leg, all the while speaking encouraging words as Magnus watched him with his dark, trusting eyes.
“Mathieu, hold Athos.” With a huff, Geoff lifted the large hound into his arms. “He’s as heavy as his mistress.”
Alain’s mouth twitched up on one side. “Surely that can be no burden.”
Geoff rolled his eyes.
Content now that he had been rescued, the hound lay pliant, resting his large head over Geoff’s shoulder.
“Aye, Magnus, you are among friends,” Geoff said, avoiding another wet kiss from the beast. He followed Alain through the opening the huge knight had found in the thick brush. Walking to Athos, Geoff said, “If Magnus will allow you to hold him, I can mount and then take him.”
At Alain’s nod, Geoff carefully handed Magnus to him. The hound allowed it as if he knew what they were about.
Geoff quickly mounted and accepted the hound across the saddle, settling him onto his lap. “We shall return Magnus to his mistress.” With his free hand, he turned his horse back toward the walled city.
“Emma will be grateful,” observed Mathieu.
“That was my fervent hope,” Geoff mumbled, a grin forming on his face.
* * *
Emma paced in front of the hearth fire, her eyes darting from Magnus’ empty pallet to where her cloak hung on a peg near the door.
“I must search for him,” she said to Artur, who stood close by, as worried as she was.
“He has never stayed away so long. It will soon be dark. Something must have happened.”
“I can go, Mistress,” Artur bravely offered.
“You cannot ride. And I may have to go a great distance to find him in the forest. ’Tis best I go.”
Making a decision, she grabbed her cloak from the peg near the door. “I cannot say how long I will be gone, for I know not where he hunts. You and Sigga feed the others their supper while I am away.”
“Do you want me to saddle Thyra?”
“Nay,” said Emma, “I can do it.”
Artur shot her a concerned glance that told her he wanted to scold her for going out at this hour, but he did not. He had been with her long enough to know when her mind was made up there was no stopping her.
She unlatched the door and heard the sound of pounding hooves.
Stepping out of the door, she saw three knights riding toward her, slowing their horses as they approached.
Normans. One had the straw-colored hair of Sir Geoffroi for he wore no helm.
Across his lap he carried… Magnus! She nearly cried out with relief.
Tears filling her eyes, she ran to meet the three men.
“Magnus! Oh, Sir Geoffroi, you found him!”
Magnus gave out a bark and joy filled her heart. The hound was alive. But the blood-soaked cloth around his leg told her he was hurt.
The one she recognized as Sir Alain dismounted and came around to Sir Geoffroi’s horse to accept Magnus into his arms. Sir Geoffroi swung his leg over his saddle and slid off his horse, reclaiming the hound.
The squire, who had also dismounted, gathered the reins of the three horses.
“I think you know where the stable is at the back of the house,” she told him. He nodded and headed around the house.
“What happened?” she asked Sir Geoffroi as he carried Magnus through the door she held open.
“Caught his leg in a snare.”
“Oh, Magnus,” she murmured softly, reaching out her hand to stroke his head.
Sir Geoffroi asked, “Where do you want him?”
“You can lay him on the pallet next to the hearth where I can see to his injury.”
He and Sir Alain entered and she pointed to the straw-filled pallet near the fire. “Just there.”
Sir Geoffroi laid Magnus on the pallet and she closed the door behind the men as the twins came bounding down the stairs.
“’Tis Sir Geoffroi,” said Finna.
“The one who carried me home?” Ottar asked, his gaze taking in the tall mail-clad men. Emma had explained to the boy that it was Sir Geoffroi who had brought him home from the clearing and that the knight was a most unusual Norman.
“’Tis him,” said Finna. “He is one of the Bastard’s knights. He told me so himself.”
Sir Alain covered a cough with his hand.
“Finna!” exclaimed Emma. She had forgotten to tell Finna not to use that name for the Norman king even if it was truth.
Sir Geoffroi chuckled. “Hello, Ottar, Finna.” Pointing to Alain, he said, “This is my friend, Sir Alain. I do not think you met him Finna but he was with me when we brought Ottar home.”
Finna nodded shyly.
“What happened to Magnus?” inquired Ottar as he stared at the blood-soaked bandage on the hound’s leg.
“He caught his leg in a snare,” said Sir Geoffroi. Rubbing his lower back, he remarked, “That beast is no light thing.”
“Yea,” Emma admitted, kneeling next to the dog, “he’s full grown now and large even for an Irish hound.”
Magnus’ tail thumped the ground as his mistress stroked him and the children came to watch.
Emma liked how Sir Geoffroi was with the twins, more tender than she would have expected a hardened knight to be. And he had carried her beloved hound back to her. He might be a Norman but she was now thrice in his debt. How could she be so ungracious as to not welcome him into her home?
“Sit,” she said from where she knelt next to Magnus, gesturing to a bench by the hearth. She sent Sigga, who had come into the room, for some mead. To the knights, she said, “You must stay and share some mead.”
Sir Geoffroi cast a glance at his companion who nodded. “Aye, we will gladly stay.”