Chapter 7 #2
Feigr was recovering, now able to get around and attend his shop, but he was bitter and angry.
Inga, who still lived with Emma at Feigr’s insistence and Emma’s happy agreement, was more fearful than angry.
In time, Emma hoped both could leave behind the memory of that horrible night. But she had her doubts.
The church often forced a young woman such as Inga to marry her rapist, but even if he knew, Emma did not believe the archbishop would force Inga to accept such a fate.
Ealdred was too old and too weak for the people to follow his advice in such matters.
Half the town of York would rise in protest if he even suggested such a thing.
If all the maidens who had been taken against their will were avenged, it would become another uprising, mayhap one already in the making.
Emma looked behind her to where she could just see the top of the square tower of the first Norman castle.
The Bastard king and his army might be gone but his garrison of knights remained, soon to be spread between the old tower and the new castle that appeared to be nearly finished.
Yet in those hated castles dwelled one who was a bright light.
True to his word, Sir Geoffroi had kept them supplied with meat even after the market had reopened and butchers once more cried their wares from their stalls.
Besides the boon of food, she liked seeing him and his broad smile at her door more than she would admit.
He made no demands upon her, though sometimes she sensed he longed for more than the tentative friendship that had grown between them. Did she, too, want more?
She had shared the meat he provided with her neighbors who complained that Normans had brought it.
If her father had not been a leader of the rebels, a man all of York respected, they might have protested more loudly, but as it was, they were happy to have the meat and accepted her explanation she was about her father’s business.
What could they say to the daughter of the noble Dane whom King Harold had asked to govern Northumbria after the victory at Stamford Bridge?
Those days might be past, but the citizens of York had not forgotten either her father or Cospatric who had governed Northumbria for a brief time after her father.
Looking beyond Finna and Inga picking flowers to the land that was hers, Emma remembered the time after Halden’s death.
Her father had helped her sell her husband’s two ships and the warehouse of goods on the Humber River.
With the proceeds, he had persuaded Cospatric, who then had the authority as Earl of Northumbria, to sell to her some lands east of the River Ouse, which she now kept in flax and barley.
It gave her great joy to see the churls tilling the fields, to watch the life-giving plants rise from the rich earth.
But if the Normans remained, she would not continue to own the lands.
The Norman king would take them to award to his followers.
Finna and Inga returned with a basket full of flowers and smiles on their faces, eager to show her their prize takings.
Shaking off her troublesome thoughts, Emma looked down at the yellow and white flowers filling the basket. “What wonderful flowers! They will bring spring to our table.”
Finna leaped at the idea. “I have a clay jar we could use to hold them!”
Emma looked beyond Inga and Finna and their flowers to see Ottar and Magnus with their heads together bent over something on the ground. “What is it that has captured Ottar’s attention?” she asked.
“Oh,” said Finna with a look of disgust, “’tis just some old frog.”
With a grin, Emma reminded her, “I recall a little girl who found frogs fascinating.”
Inga gave Finna a knowing grin. Likely Inga also remembered the time.
“That was when I was small,” insisted Finna. “I am ever so much bigger now.”
Emma and Inga both laughed at Finna’s pronouncement and the innocence in her large brown eyes.
“But not so big you have lost your fondness for berry tarts, hmm?” questioned Emma.
“I am very fond of berry tarts,” admitted Finna.
“Well, I know where to find some berries for Sigga to turn into tarts.”
“Tarts!” shouted Finna.
Ottar’s head lifted from where he was crouched. “Tarts?”
Emma and Inga shared a laugh at the twins’ enthusiasm for the sweet treats.
Once Ottar learned of their plans, he was persuaded to leave his frog for the promise of the sweet confection and a visit to see the lambs.
Emma guided her small family to the place where she had seen the red berries growing, Magnus bounding along beside them.
The day was once again golden.
* * *
“Sir Geoffroi!”
At the sound of the familiar voice, Geoff turned from where he was speaking with his men in the bailey to see William Malet striding toward him wearing a broad smile.
“You appear in a jovial mood, my lord sheriff.” Mayhap the last few weeks had given Malet reason to believe his position was secure notwithstanding William’s earlier displeasure.
Geoff had to wonder why Malet would care.
He was a nobleman with both title and lands in Normandy; he did not need more in England.
But the king had given him manors and lands aplenty.
Mayhap his new lands in England meant more to the sheriff than his holdings in Normandy.
“Indeed I am in a good mood. I have an invitation for you. Might you be persuaded to join me and a few others for the evening meal?”
Geoff grinned. “If the event involves food, Malet, you know I will be pleased to attend. I never miss a meal.”
“Aye, well, Gil is back from his expedition to Durham. ’Twas a failure as we all suspected ’twould be.”
Geoff thought of Alain’s prediction that Gilbert’s foray into the north would not go well. “’Twas likely lost from the beginning.”
“Gil tells me a dense fog he attributes to St. Cuthbert cloaked the rebels and prevented his men from advancing.”
Geoff pondered the idea. “’Tis said Cuthbert protects that city.”
The sheriff shrugged. “Mayhap you are right. The ways of the saints are not for mortal man to understand. On a brighter note, FitzOsbern has returned from Winchester as well and Gil has decided to hold a feast in the new castle on Baille Hill before he opens it to the garrison.”
“The men could use a bit of celebration,” said Geoff.
“’Twill be only a small group. Gil has invited Helise and me and FitzOsbern, but he also mentioned wanting you to be one of his guests.”
“Me?” Geoff would never have expected an invitation to join what would be a feast for the Norman nobles in York.
“Aye, he thinks much of you and asked me to see to it. He’s also invited Archbishop Ealdred, seeking to make amends, I presume.”
“Or, given the archbishop’s one time support for Edgar the AEtheling, it may be Gil wants to be certain Ealdred is with us. Our sire trusts no Anglo-Saxon, not even a man of the Church.”
Malet seemed to ponder the suggestion. “I wonder if William put a word in Gilbert’s ear before he left. But no matter, it should be a merry group. It has been a long while since we have had a proper feast.”
Geoff gazed across the river to the new wooden structure rising from a motte surrounded by a large bailey and palisade. “I did not realize the new castle was completed.”
“’Tis finished, save a few final touches of the hammer. William insisted on haste, you will recall. This evening will be a celebration just for us. Gilbert has already moved in but tomorrow he opens it to the others.”
“Will you move to the new castle?”
“Nay. Helise and the boys prefer to stay in the original tower while we are here.”
Geoff briefly pondered what Emma might think of the new, larger castle and, suddenly, he knew who he wanted by his side for the evening. When he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. Whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted it or not, Emma of York held his heart in her delicate hand.
“As long as your wife and the English archbishop will be there, might I bring a lady of York as my guest?”
A frown formed on Malet’s face. Given the women who frequented the hall—serving wenches and whores—Geoff understood.
“She is a very proper lady, Malet… a virtuous young widow.”
“Ah. In that case, I am certain Gil will be pleased to include her. Another citizen of York might put the archbishop at ease. Mayhap he knows of her. And Helise would be delighted to have the company of another woman. Yea, by all means, bring her. I will let Gil know to expect the two of you.”
* * *
The enticing smell of berries baking in a crust with honey, cinnamon, black pepper and cloves wafted through the air. It was all Emma could do to keep the twins occupied for she had promised they could share the first of the berry tarts when they were cool enough to eat.
Inga, tired from her morning of picking flowers with Finna, was resting in their shared chamber above.
A knock sounded on the door.
Reminding herself that Artur, who would normally greet visitors, was grooming her horse, Emma wiped her hands on a cloth. “I will see who has come.”
Sigga nodded and handed the first of the treats into the twins’ open palms.
Magnus, held in rapt attention by the sight of the freshly baked tarts disappearing into their mouths, whimpered.
Emma chuckled at the three of them and headed toward the front door. Magnus was so fixed on the tarts he did not even notice her departure.
She unlatched the door to see Sir Geoffroi standing there in his knight’s hauberk.
Wisely, she supposed, the Normans rarely left the castle without the protection their chain mail afforded them.
Since he wore no helm, his blond locks were in full view like spun gold around his head and his blue eyes were twinkling.
“My lady,” he said, bowing. When he straightened, there was a grin on his face.
“You seem happy today.”
“I am rarely unhappy,” he replied.