Chapter 11 #2
Turning his head, he glimpsed Osbjorn and his nephews, Harald and Cnut, proudly standing on the deck of their dragon ship, sailing beside him, the square sail taut with the wind.
The black raven on a red banner flying atop their ship’s mast was the symbol of the victory they believed would soon be theirs.
Behind the two ships were hundreds more.
Maerleswein’s spirits soared. Soon York would be theirs once again.
They had left the mouth of the Humber the day before, accompanied by King Swein’s ships with their colorful round shields hanging from the side of the sleek hulls, their square sails billowing with wind.
Marching apace along the riverbank were Northumbrians, rejoicing as they went.
It was all he had asked for, save that Malcolm of Scotland had yet to appear.
But he had the leaders he needed. He had the Danish ships and he had the men.
Next to him, young Edgar braced his hands on the rail and gazed back at the hundreds of ships in their wake. “I have never seen such a sight.”
“Nor I,” said Cospatric, standing next to the Saxon heir.
“’Tis the Danes who will see us the victors,” said Maerleswein. “Swein does not come himself, but he has thrown the might of his people into the fray.”
“What is your plan?” asked Waltheof, the tall, blond Earl of Huntingdon, who appeared every bit the Dane as he leaned on his tall axe, his powerful legs swaying with the ship’s movements.
“Unless Osbjorn has a better idea, I would make camp and attack at first light,” said Maerleswein.
Waltheof nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Your plan pleases me.”
Another hour brought them within sight of the city.
Gazing off the leeward side of the ship, Maerleswein stared in shock, for where there should have been the city, there were only tendrils of smoke rising from scorched ground.
The only structures he could see above the blackened earth were the castles of the Norman king.
“What goes here?” Cospatric asked, his face showing the shock Maerleswein felt.
Anger such as he had never known surged through Maerleswein’s veins. “Have the Normans destroyed the city?”
The crews rowed their ships to the bank of the river where a crowd so great he could not number it poured forth to greet them, shouting their welcome and joining the Northumbrians who had traveled the bank of the river all the way from the Humber.
“You there!” Maerleswein shouted to one of the men coming to greet them, “What has happened to cause this devastation?”
“’Tis the Norman scum’s doing,” said the man as his lip curled in a bitter scowl. “They thought to keep us from filling their ditches by burning the homes that ringed the castle. ’Twas bad enough they took so many homes, but then the fools let the fire escape.”
“My God,” breathed out Cospatric.
“I must see my daughter,” said Maerleswein. He gave orders to his men and soon tents began to rise on the bank of the River Ouse. “I leave you in charge, Cospatric, while I go in search of Emma.”
“Do you think Emma is safe?” the earl asked, his face speaking his disquiet. It pleased Maerleswein to see the look of concern in the earl’s eyes. Mayhap he already considered Emma as a future wife.
“Aye. You know as well as I, Emma is a resourceful woman. She would have fled the blaze. I but go to see for myself how she fares and to leave guards who will assure no Dane thinking to pillage comes close to her. I will return ere long.”
Taking some of his most trusted men, Maerleswein mounted the dark bay horse he had brought with him on the ship and left Osbjorn and Cospatric to organize the camp.
* * *
Geoff joined FitzOsbern on the battlement, looking north into the smoldering ruin of the city.
Malet and Alain stood with them. The cloud of smoke had mostly cleared now and the blue sky reappeared in places in stark contrast to the black ash and charred timbers.
It saddened Geoff to think of the destruction.
In the distance, what was left of the tall Minster rose from the ground, a charred hulk whose bell was now silent. Ravaged by fire, the wooden parts of the church had burned, but bits of its skeleton remained to signify the terrible loss. He was glad the archbishop had not lived to see it.
The fire had raged for two days, cutting a swath through the city from the castles north toward the cathedral, destroying homes and shops along the way.
Small fires still lingered where there was fuel.
Oddly, the blaze had left some buildings undamaged, a home here, a shop there, as if it had carefully selected which structures would be its victims.
Consumed with fighting the fire’s incursions into the outer palisade fence, he had not been able to return to Emma’s house.
From what he had heard, it was possible that, lying so far to the northeast, it might have been spared.
It was his fervent hope and his nightly prayer she was well.
She was his heart and he could not live without her.
From the other side of the battlement, a great hue and cry suddenly arose. He and the other men quickly crossed to the other side to look down at the point where the River Ouse met the River Foss.
His heart sank as understanding dawned. As far as his eye could see, longships were unloading at the banks of the river. “The Danes have arrived.”
“There must be hundreds of them,” said Alain beneath his breath.
“And thousands of warriors,” said Geoff. As they watched, the Danes, armed with axes, swords and spears, poured forth from the ships to be embraced by Northumbrians waiting on the shore.
“Mon Dieu,” gasped Malet, gaping at the Danes swarming ashore.
FitzOsbern said nothing but the scowl on his face spoke loudly.
Geoff watched the scene, dismayed. Even knowing they were coming had not prepared him for the sight. He turned to Malet. “Would that you had not sent word to William telling him we could hold out for a year.”
“Mayhap I was wrong,” admitted the sheriff in a stunned voice.
“Surely William has received word of their numbers,” muttered FitzOsbern. “He knows they have been plundering their way north.”
“Even if he has,” Geoff said, “his army cannot move as fast as we require. I would not count upon his aid. Best we prepare for the siege that will soon be upon us.”
* * *
Maerleswein first stopped at Emma’s house, pleased to find it untouched by the fire as were all the homes in that section of the city, but many were empty, including Emma’s.
He ordered his men to ride on, northeast of the city walls, to where he thought she might go—the cottage of Jack and Martha, two of her villeins.
Emma was fond of the couple and he knew them to be trustworthy, loyal to his daughter.
When they arrived, he was relieved to see the twins playing in front of the cottage. He dismounted, telling his men to wait.
The twins rushed to greet him and he swept them into his arms.
“Have you come to save us, Godfather?” asked Finna.
“From the fire, you mean?”
“It was awful,” interrupted Ottar. “The smoke burned my eyes.”
“Mine, too,” added his sister in a small voice.
“I have come to take you and Emma home, and to see you are safe. There now, is not that a fine thing?”
The twins grinned. It brought joy to his heart to have cheered them. A fire sweeping through the city must have been terrifying to one so young. It would be terrifying to anyone.
The door of the small thatched cottage opened. Emma appeared, her long flaxen plaits trailing down the front of the simple, brown tunic, one he thought she kept to work in her garden.
“Father! I heard voices and wondered who it was the twins were speaking with. I am glad to see you.”
He put the twins down, walked to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. The twins ran at his side to keep up with his long strides. In truth, he was glad to see they were all here. He stopped in front of his daughter and studied her face. “You are well?”
“Yea, Father. We escaped the fire as you can see, but we have watched the smoke and people fleeing tell us the city lies in ruins. Did you see my house?”
Finna clung to Emma’s tunic and looked up at him.
“Aye. It stands.” At that Emma’s face brightened, Finna’s did as well. “I have come to bring you home. Are Sigga and Artur with you?”
“Sigga and Inga are in the cottage and Artur is helping Jack with the lambs.”
“You must see them, Godfather,” urged Finna. “They are much bigger now.”
“I will visit the lambs,” he agreed, not wanting to disappoint them. “Then we must go while we still have light.”
“I see you do not come alone,” Emma remarked, her eyes taking in the five men who had come with him sitting atop their horses some distance away.
“Nay, and not just these, four of which I will leave to guard you. The Danes have come with their many ships. They camp on the bank of the River Ouse along with the Northumbrians who have joined our cause. Cospatric and Edgar are with them. Think of it, Emma. Hundreds of ships and thousands of men. All of Northumbria has risen to fight the Normans.”
“When does the fighting begin?” she asked anxiously.
“We attack at first light.”
* * *
Geoff had spent the night preparing his men and his weapons. From the tower’s battlement, he had watched the hundreds of fires in the Danish camp on the bank of the river, wondering if fire would be the Danes’ chosen weapon. None in the tower castle had slept even after the campfires died down.
Dawn broke in the cloud-streaked sky as he gazed toward the city.
The flames still lingering in isolated places added to the hellish nature of what Geoff knew might be the place of his last battle.
He had faced death many times and knew well the fear before a battle.
But he could not recall a time when William’s forces had been so greatly outnumbered.
Even so this was not the first time he had considered the day might be his last.