Chapter 15 #3
Startled, Geoff had turned, drawing his knife at the harsh, unfamiliar voice, damning himself for leaving the chamber door ajar.
Recognizing the man as Emma’s father, his words had been curt.
“I am taking care of your daughter. She has been unwell, but recovers.” Geoff had sheathed his knife and turned back to Emma.
He did not worry her father would kill him.
Having spared Geoff’s life once at Emma’s request, it hardly seemed likely he would take it now.
“Does William know you are here?” asked Maerleswein.
“Nay. And, for Emma’s sake, I would not tell him. He knows only I sit by the side of a sick friend.”
“Where are the others? The twins?”
“Hiding in the woods, in a cave. When I discovered Emma, she was there, sickly and suffering from fever and chills. I thought it best to bring her here. You should know your guards gave their lives to protect her.”
“You killed them?” Maerleswein demanded.
“Nay, I killed the Normans who did.”
The tall Dane came closer to the bed and peered down on his daughter. “I am grateful for what you have done for her.”
“I could do no less for the woman I love.”
Silence hung in the air. Maerleswein broke it. “Does my daughter return this love you speak of?”
“She has spoken the words and there is much between us. I have offered her marriage.”
And then began the conversation that had awakened Emma. He had gone over that night in his mind many times. Maerleswein had been adamant she should go with him to Scotland, where Earl Cospatric had again sought exile even after William had restored his lands and title.
Now, as he turned Athos into the cold wind, heading toward Cheshire, he wondered.
Emma was loyal to her father, but would she follow him to Scotland?
Geoff could not be sure. She would do much for her family.
Then, too, when he had sought marriage, she had demurred.
Had she only wanted him as a lover? Was he too far below her?
The thought did not sit comfortably on his mind.
Emma was not one to judge a man by his birth.
Remembering their times together in the meadow and in her bed, he did not believe she only wanted a lover, for she had given more than her body. She had given of her heart.
But something held her back. She had not asked Geoff to come for her when the king released him.
Instead, worried about her family, she had insisted he take her back to the cave, which he had done.
When he had returned to the castle, he found William giving instructions to his half-brother, Robert, to deal with the rebels in York and the Danes on the Humber.
Then the king had turned to the captains of his army, ordering them to prepare to march to Cheshire.
When he finished his instructions to them, he turned to Geoff, reminding him, “We expect you and your men to join us.”
* * *
Emma sat by the fire in the cave one early morning holding Inga’s babe so the young mother could sleep. She gazed into the face of the sweet child who, Emma was relieved to see, would one day look very much like Inga.
Artur added another log to the fire as his wife, Sigga, stood at the mouth of the cave, looking out. Winter lingered, but as Emma looked into the eyes of Inga’s babe, her thoughts drifted to the spring that would come. What would she do?
Though she had stubbornly resisted both her father’s and Geoffroi’s plans for her, Emma’s heart longed to be with her knight, her Gabriel who had ridden to her rescue so many times.
An enemy who turned out to be more than a friend.
He was her lover. For three years, no man had touched her woman’s heart.
She decided that a woman did not always choose the man to whom she gave her love.
But if Emma had consciously chosen, she could have chosen no better.
Whether she had realized it at the time, she saw it clearly now.
Even before the first time they had lain together, she had loved him.
War had drawn them together and then it had torn them apart.
Having received his forgiveness for her part in the rebellion, there was only one place she wanted to be—with Geoffroi.
But she could not go to Talisand alone. She would not abandon the family she loved.
If she were to go, she wanted the twins, Inga, Artur and Sigga and Jack and Martha to come with her.
Until she knew they would agree, she could make no promise, for she would not leave them, not even for love of her knight.
When her father had said goodbye before returning to the Humber, she had not encouraged him to expect her to go to Scotland in the spring. He argued Cospatric’s case as the suitor he wanted for her. She had confessed that she liked the earl.
“But I do not love him, Father.”
“Love can grow between two who share respect,” he had said, “I will call on you before I leave. In time, you will come to see what I want for you is best. Be careful, Emma. The woods are full of Normans.”
She waved goodbye as he faded into the protection of the woods he knew so well to join his Northumbrian rebels. Having led the failed rebellion, once he joined Cospatric in Scotland, she did not think he would ever return to England.
A cold wind whistled into the cave, making the fire flutter wildly. Sigga wrapped her cloak tightly around her and left the mouth of the cave to sit by Emma. Now that she was no longer fevered, Emma felt the cold as the others did, shivering whenever she left the comfort of the fire.
Both Geoffroi and her father had counseled against taking her family to her home in York, for it was too easy a target should the Normans again search the town.
Before he left for Cheshire, Geoffroi had told them York’s stores of food not taken into the castle to be consumed by William’s knights had been destroyed.
The Norman king had also ordered the burning of farming tools, cottages and everything else in Yorkshire.
Even the fields had been salted so the land could not be farmed in the spring.
Never again would she stand on the hillside outside of York’s walls to watch Ottar and Finna play among the flowers.
Never again would she watch with pleasure the ripening grain.
Sigga raised her head, looking toward the mouth of the cave. “Magnus has returned but without the usual hare.”
Emma looked up from where she sat holding Merewyn, now asleep in her arms. The weary hound walked to her side and dropped to the ground. She patted his head. “’Tis all right, we have enough food for today.”
“I will hunt,” offered Artur from where he tended the fire.
“If you go,” counseled Emma, “take Jack. The woods are not free of Normans. Even more dangerous than the knights are the people who must be starving by now, willing to kill you for any game you bring down.”
Artur darted a glance at Thyra, Emma’s mare standing just inside the cave. They had talked about the horse. Emma refused to think of Thyra as food, but many would and she was certain that both horses and dogs would be eaten before people gave in to starvation.
A short while later, Jack and Martha came from their chamber to join them around the fire. Not long after, Artur departed with Jack, the two of them vowing not to return empty-handed.
Magnus stood as if he would go with them, but she forced him to stay. “You are worn out and I would have you with us should a stranger find the cave.” The hound lay down as if in understanding.
Inga came to the fire from the chamber where she had been sleeping and Emma handed Merewyn to her.
“I will feed her,” said the new mother and disappeared with the babe into the back of the cave.
It was time, Emma decided, to take stock of what food they had.
With Sigga beside her, she went to examine their stores.
In the rear chamber, she held her candle high as she opened the roughly woven sacks, inspecting each one.
“We’ve grain enough for gruel until spring and, thanks to what Sir Geoffroi carried to the cave, we’ve mead enough.
He even brought hay for Thyra, bless him. ”
Sigga peered into another group of smaller bags. “There are dried berries, nuts and herbs, but only enough other vegetables for another month. Oh, and we’ve some cheese and apples.”
“Spring is two months away,” said Emma, thinking out loud. “’Twill have to do till then.”
“Mayhap the men will be fortunate in their hunting,” Sigga encouraged, as they returned to the main chamber.
A few hours later, Emma’s spirits lifted when the men trudged into the cave carrying three red squirrels. Magnus sniffed them and walked away as if unimpressed. Emma had to smile. Sometimes the hound spoke loudly even though he lacked words.
“You did well,” she told the men. “As I recall, Sigga makes a fair squirrel stew.”
Sigga, who was a very good cook, smiled. “Aye, I will make short work of them. A few onions and turnips with spices ’twill make a hearty dish.”
It was a few weeks later when a small family of three freemen found the cave in which Emma’s family lived. In truth, it was Ottar they found, gathering wood just outside. Perhaps the boy had been drawn to the man’s son for they were nearly the same age.
“They are hungry, Emma,” Ottar announced, leading the small family into the main chamber. Emma was sitting by the fire putting her embroidery skills to work mending the twins’ clothes.
“You are welcome to share what we have,” said Emma rising to greet them. They must have fled with little more than their clothes and those not in good condition. Their tunics and cloaks were soiled and threadbare, their faces dirty and gaunt beneath their hair. “Come, sit by the fire.”
“I’ll fetch them some mead,” said Sigga, hastening to where they kept the wine.