Chapter 14
Emma woke to the call of a thrush, its flute-like song one she could not ignore even inside the cave.
The long days of summer were gone. No longer did the linnet send its melodious notes over the green meadow that had once provided a soft bed for her and her Norman lover.
No longer did the lavender flowers bloom at the forest’s edge.
Now the brown thrush with its spotted chest trilled its solitary song over the bleak, winter forest.
A longing filled her heart for those earlier sun-filled days of love, so strong at times it caused her to shudder.
She missed her gallant knight, his easy smile and his welcoming arms. He had brought laughter into her life.
Now it was gone. But ’twould do no good to ponder what could not be.
She had her little family to care for and protect.
Ottar had shown them the way to his cave.
Once Artur and Magnus had chased away the small animals that dwelled there, its chambers, leading deep into the limestone cliffs, became their home.
The main chamber was very large, at least fifteen feet in height.
Deeper into the cave, the chambers were smaller and devoid of light.
They always took candles when going into them.
They stored food in one of the chambers.
The twins, Inga and Emma slept in another, Artur and Sigga in a third and Jack and Martha in yet another.
Inside the cave, the ground was hard, coarse rock but their pallets and furs made it tolerable.
A boulder and a dense stand of trees hid the opening of the cave, which was large enough near its entrance to provide shelter for Emma’s mare.
At night, the two guards slept by the fire they made inside the main chamber, giving Emma a sense of safety, though she well knew if the Norman army discovered them, the guards would afford little protection.
From the guards, who scouted far afield, she had learned the Normans had returned to claim York and now a large part of the army was headed north toward Durham, destroying all in its path.
She was glad for the dream that had allowed them to escape.
Were there others who had fled? She had warned her neighbors but was not certain they would heed her plea to leave.
Living in the forest required everyone to do their part, but the duties were not onerous.
Ottar fished in the stream near the cave and foraged for plants with Sigga.
Magnus hunted for hares and squirrels, but Emma would not allow him to leave the cave at night for it was then the wolves howled.
The women cooked and saw to the needs of the children.
Finna helped. The guards, who grumbled that they had been turned into serfs, helped Artur and Jack to hunt and kept the fire going.
During the day, all of them gathered wood.
Each night before they took to their pallets, the men laid heavy brush across the cave’s entrance.
With December and the onset of winter, the days grew short and the air so cold, Emma could see her breath.
The frost on the morning ground did not always melt in the midday sun and seeing the thick coats of the squirrels, she knew it was only a matter of time before the forest was blanketed in white.
Hearing the twins stirring, Emma rose and fumbled to light a candle.
Once it burned brightly, she donned her woolen tunic over the undertunic she slept in, and pulled on her woolen socks and leather shoes.
She let Inga sleep, for the babe had given her a restless night.
By Emma’s counting, in a sennight Inga would become a mother.
Emma found her way to the main chamber where Sigga huddled under her cloak, tending the cooking fire. “Artur and one of the guards have gone for water. Magnus is with them.”
Emma added a log to the fire and sat beside her servant who had begun to measure out grain for gruel. Sigga had been a stalwart soul throughout the ordeal. “Thank you, Sigga, for your faithfulness. We would not eat so well if I were to cook our meals.”
The servant gathered her cloak around her with one hand while she reached for a bowl with the other.
“Mistress, you are the one who holds us together. You carry the weight of us all. If it were not for you, we would not just suffer the cold, we would be long dead by now. You have kept us alive and safe.”
Emma reached for the dried berries to add to their morning meal, wondering how long any of them would be safe. “God and the archbishop’s prayers that live beyond him protect us, Sigga. I can think of no other reason. Did not God send the dream to warn us?”
Sigga’s hazel eyes held a glimmer of hope. “I believe He did.”
“Once winter has passed, we will find a new home,” Emma encouraged, all the while knowing it would not be anywhere near York. Sigga said nothing, mayhap because, like Emma, she did not know where they would go.
Since the guards had cleared the brush away from the entrance and let Thyra out to be watered, the cave took on the faint light of the new day, making it easier to see using only the light of the cooking fire.
Finna was the next to rouse from the rear chambers, stumbling out as she rubbed sleep from her eyes while clutching her poppet.
The cloth plaything had become her constant companion, its red tunic now soiled from being dragged everywhere with the child.
It occurred to Emma the poppet was, to Finna, a symbol of happier days.
She held out her arms to Finna who came to sit in her lap. “Are those your warm socks?” she asked the child.
“Yea, and my warmest tunic, but I’m still cold.”
She hugged the girl to her. “Soon the fire will warm you and we will have some hot gruel in our stomachs.” She rubbed Finna’s belly making her laugh.
Artur and the guard returned carrying water and more wood. Magnus, trailing alongside the men, trotted over to greet Emma and Finna. The child stroked his rough fur as he plopped down next to Emma.
“I think your hound likes living in the forest,” said Artur, handing his wife the wooden bucket, water sloshing over the sides. He took the wood from the guard and stacked it next to the cooking fire. “Magnus was a happy fellow, running in circles around us.”
Magnus’ tail beat against the ground as if he were anxious to tell her of his morning adventure.
As the men sat around the fire, Jack and Martha came from their chamber to join them, reaching out their hands toward the warmth of the fire. Jack scratched his belly, then ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I sleep right well in the cave,” he remarked with good humor.
“Speak not for me, husband,” said Martha, rubbing her back. Her brown plaits were graying but she was not old. “I can nay get used to the hard ground.”
Once Ottar and Inga had risen from their pallets, they all sat together around the fire, breaking their fast. Emma was glad for their company, for each had given to her in his or her own way. And she had given to them all she could.
When they had finished the meal, they went about their chores.
Emma set aside her half-eaten bowl of gruel. Her stomach lurched and her head suddenly began to pound. She did not feel at all well. Raising her palm to her forehead, she felt her burning skin. Unlike the others, she had not felt the cold.
* * *
Two weeks before Christmas, because rumors persisted of rebels around York, William ordered Geoff to lead a group of knights to make a sweep of the buildings that still remained in the city and to scout out the surrounding countryside.
Geoff selected nine knights to accompany him, Alain and Mathieu, who was nearly a knight himself.
All had been with him on the march to Durham.
Inside the city walls, there were enough homes and shops remaining, even some that had been newly rebuilt, that it seemed prudent to Geoff to divide the men into four groups of three, each taking a different section of the city. He reserved the quadrant containing Emma’s home to search for himself.
With Alain and Mathieu on either side of him, he rode through the debris-filled streets of York, past the burned out Minster, to the part of the city where Emma had lived.
A rain had melted much of the snow but patches of white remained.
The homes in that part of the city had not fallen victim to the fire, but as they began their inspection, it was clear they had been ransacked and were devoid of people.
Entering Emma’s home, Geoff was assaulted by memories. It was cold now, but he imagined a blazing fire in the hearth ring and Emma sitting beside the flames. In his mind, he heard the laughter of the twins. He could smell the stew they had shared. He could taste the honey wine. Where had Emma gone?
“’Tis a mess,” said Alain when they discovered the chests in Emma’s chamber, the remains of their contents scattered on the floor, the things the departing Danes or arriving Normans did not want.
Geoff stared at Emma’s bed, remembering the first time she had brought him here and their first coming together. He turned away, but not before Alain had seen his regret.
“At least with her father, she is safe,” the Bear said.
“Aye,” was all Geoff could manage to say.
They walked through each room, taking more time than they might have with another dwelling. The house had more memories for him, each room bringing a picture to his mind of the twins or Magnus, Sigga and her berry tarts, even the sword-maker and his daughter.
He could see by the gloomy expressions on the faces of his companions that he was not the only one with fond memories of the times they had spent in this home. “Come, let us be done with this,” he urged Alain. “We still have the woods to search.”
Before he left the house, Geoff retrieved one thing he had hidden there under some boards beneath the work table inside the kitchen.