Chapter 6 #3
Emma shrugged. Normans were in her home again. And for some reason their presence this time did not disturb her. Thank God her father was on his way to Denmark. He would never have accepted the fact there were French knights who did not live to rape and kill.
* * *
Geoff drank deeply of the sweet honey wine Emma’s servant had brought him, warming his body in front of the hearth fire. The French did not prefer the drink but they had served it at Talisand a few times.
Mathieu returned from seeing to the horses and joined them.
The hound looked up at him from where he lay on the pallet with his sad, dark eyes, apparently content with Emma’s attention as she lovingly removed the cloth around his leg and inspected the wound.
Magnus whimpered.
Emma gasped. “The cut is deep.”
The twins leaned over the hound’s leg. “Will he be all right?” Ottar asked.
“It has not cut into the bone,” she assured the lad. “If I can stop the bleeding, and the wound does not fester, he will heal.”
Geoff did not envy the hound the nasty gash but he did envy the attention it was getting from the fair, young widow. Seeing how skillfully she cleaned and dressed the wound, he was reminded of how she had tended Ottar. “You seem to know what you are about.”
Not looking up from where she worked on the dog’s leg, she replied, “I have tended a man’s wounds more than once.”
He was curious to know what man she had tended.
The one with the large feet? Or, mayhap her husband.
But he did not ask. “Your hound is a strong one,” he remarked, watching her plait catch the light of the fire, turning it golden.
The thick braid flowed down the back of her dark blue gown as she bent over her hound.
He imagined her flaxen hair coming unraveled as he took her in his arms and kissed her.
His body responded, his loins swelling with desire.
Shaking off his wandering thoughts, he reminded himself that despite his attraction to her, she was a proud Northumbrian woman.
And, at the moment, they were sitting in her home, surrounded by her family.
When Emma finished tending the hound, the twins took her place on either side of the beast, and began stroking its fur. Magnus laid his head in Finna’s lap and closed his eyes.
Emma came to sit beside Geoff, which pleased him greatly. Alain sat on his other side and Mathieu next to Alain. Her eyes fixed on the twins and the hound, she said, “Thank you again for bringing him home. I was not sure I could find him.”
He could not have explained it if asked, but Geoff felt very protective of her even though she was not his to protect, even though she harbored hatred for his king. “I would not have you wandering through the forest in search of the beast. ’Twould not be safe, especially this late in the day.”
She turned her beautiful eyes on him. “I did not want to go, knowing it would soon be dark, but I could not leave him alone thinking he might be hurt.”
“Does he often hunt in the forest?” he asked.
“Yea, more so now that food is needed. He brings home hares nearly every day, proudly dropping them at the door.”
“I will gladly supply you with meat, Emma,” Geoff said. He would supply her with more, were she to ask. But for now, at least he could see that she and her household were well fed.
The servant, Sigga, refilled their goblets.
Mathieu took a drink as Geoff said to him, “Before we leave, take the deer from your horse and give it to the lady’s manservant.”
“Aye, sir, I will.”
After all, Geoff mused, he and his men were doing the hunting for the king. It would not be difficult to see this family had sufficient meat to sustain them. And it would give him an excuse to see her again.
“We are grateful for the deer,” said Emma, “but will your king allow you to feed a York family?”
“My knights and I hunt each day,” he told her.
“You can have the deer. We took others my men carried back to the castle. ’Tis not like we are feeding rebels.
” Something flickered in her eyes just then, causing him to wonder.
Could the man she harbored be a rebel? Could she be one herself?
He remembered the knife she would have wielded against Eude.
But from what he had seen, there had been no women among the rebels.
“The king would not object to my providing meat for women and children as long as I continue to feed his army.”
“Will you and your men stay for the evening meal?” she asked. Then with an amused smile, “We’ve plenty of hares for stew.”
He shot an inquiring glance at Alain and Mathieu. They had expected to eat venison, but the deer they would give Emma would take too long to prepare. He was hungry, as always, and happy to see Alain and Mathieu nodding.
Geoff turned his attention back to Emma. “Aye, and thank you.”
She rose, crossing before him, her enticing curves drawing his attention. A woman of her character and beauty was rare. London had its beautiful women and he had not been unmindful of their charms directed at him. There were available women at Talisand, too, but none were like Emma of York.
“Feigr is still abed with his injuries,” she informed him.
“’Tis best he not know I entertain Normans.
I will ask his daughter, Inga, to join us, but I must first tell her you and your men were the ones who rescued her father, else the sight of a French knight will make her fearful, as you can imagine. ”
“Yea, I can. Are you certain we should stay?” He had no wish to upset the young woman.
“It may not be easy for her, but ’twould be best if she meets you. I have already told her not all Normans are like the one who attacked her.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, my lady.” He remembered their first meeting in the clearing when she had been angry and spiteful. “It gives me encouragement.”
She did not see the smile that came to his lips. Instead, she turned and, without a word, went up the stairs, leaving him to wonder if the missing man whose large shoes he’d seen would also be joining them for the evening meal.
* * *
Emma returned to the hearth room with Inga. Sir Geoffroi knelt beside Magnus with the twins on either side of him. The children listened attentively as he explained where he had found the hound and how he had freed Magnus from the snare. Her heart warmed. Such an unusual knight.
She introduced Inga, who was shy around the men, but walked with Emma to the table. In one corner of the room was a bowl of water set on a small table. Next to it was a clean linen cloth.
“Wash up, children,” said Emma.
Finna obediently stepped to the bowl and washed, then dried her small hands.
Ottar followed. Shooting a glance at Sir Geoffroi who had come to the table, he said, “She makes us take a bath every Saturday, too.”
“Everyone takes a bath on Saturday,” Finna reminded her brother.
When Emma and Inga washed their hands, Sir Geoffroi announced, “We will wash our hands as well, Ottar. ’Tis needed.” He winked at Finna.
“Here,” said Sigga, bringing another bowl from the kitchen, “clean water for you and your men.”
Once the hand washing was complete, they took their seats on the benches that were on either side of the table, the knights and the squire on one side and Emma, Inga and the twins on the other.
Candles flickered in the center of the table as Sigga dished out the steaming stew into bowls.
Artur poured more mead and brought fresh baked bread and butter, making Emma’s stomach rumble.
She watched covertly as everyone in the room crossed themselves to acknowledge their gratitude before the meal, including the Norman knights.
Her heart warmed to see their rough manly courtesy.
“I will be glad when I can once again buy food from the market,” remarked Sigga.
Emma nodded her agreement and turned her gaze on Sir Geoffroi, watching him as he spread a generous amount of butter on his bread, licking his lips. He obviously loved to eat. “Venison is a boon we did not anticipate. The deer will keep us in meat for many days.”
“My men took several deer and a boar this day,” said Sir Geoffroi. “’Twill be no hardship to leave one of the deer with you.”
“How long will your king and his army remain in York?” It was the question that had consumed her mind in recent days.
She did not doubt it was a question Inga thought of, too.
Emma’s father would have wanted to know had he been here.
She was glad he was not. How could she introduce the knights to her father, a leader of the rebels?
He set down his bread and took a drink of his mead. His sun-streaked hair glistened in the candlelight. Her gaze shifted to his chiseled jaw that softened when he laughed, which was often. She was so absorbed in watching him, when he spoke he startled her.
“’Tis been a sennight since William arrived in York. Word in the castle is that he will depart soon. The king would be in Winchester by Easter.”
She picked at the vegetables in her stew, then raised her gaze to meet his. “Who will he leave in charge? The same one as before, William Malet?”
“Malet is still sheriff and helping with the castellan duties but, because of recent events,” he shot a side-glance at his fellow knight, “the king’s friend, William FitzOsbern, is now charged with keeping the peace.”
How prudent of him not to describe the recent events. “I do not know of him.”
“He has long been with the king, but I only met him last year at Talisand.”
At the mention of the name she had heard him speak before, she cast a glance at his companions. “Are you also from this place Sir Geoffroi speaks of, this Talisand?”
“Yea, my lady,” said Sir Alain, taking another piece of bread to dip into his stew.
Mathieu nodded and, looking at Inga, said, “’Tis a beautiful place with its own river.”