Chapter 15 #4
The small family introduced themselves as Sker, his wife, Drifa, and their son, Hunlaf.
Both the father and son had red hair and ruddy complexions; the mother’s hair was golden like Inga’s.
If they were to be cleaned of dirt, they would be a handsome family.
“We had only a little notice,” said Sker, “but it was enough to save our lives. We grabbed what we could carry as we fled. I am a farmer, unused to hunting. We have been surviving on what we brought with us until recently.”
Seeing the hungry look in their eyes, Emma inquired, “How long has it been since you ate?”
“The day before yesterday,” Drifa said, looking around the cave as she reached her hands to the fire. “It is warm here. You have prepared well.”
“I had a dream that warned us,” said Emma. “We came here before the Normans returned.”
They did not question her dream, only nodded. Such were the beliefs of the people they gave credence to warnings, visions and dreams.
Without being asked, Martha served bread and cheese to their visitors and Sigga brought them cups of mead.
“The bread is stale,” Emma explained, “but ’twill fill your stomachs. Our men caught some squirrels this morning, so there will be stew for dinner. The water in the stream is good, too.”
“We are most grateful,” said Sker as he and his family greedily ate the bread and cheese, washing the small meal down with the mead.
Finna came to sit in Emma’s lap, her brown eyes watching with interest the family across the crackling fire.
When Jack announced he was leaving to gather wood, the two boys happily went with him. “Mind Jack, Ottar,” Emma said.
“You, too, Hunlaf,” Drifa said to her son. Since the woman had first entered the cave, her eyes kept darting to where Magnus lay by Emma’s side, his head on his paws.
“The hound will not harm you,” said Emma, relieved when the woman appeared to relax at her words.
“All of our friends fled when the Normans came to burn the cottages, but we became separated,” said the father, Sker.
“No one is left in York, save those who may be hiding in the homes that remain. And that is dangerous should they be discovered. If the Normans had waited until spring or summer for their revenge ’twould not have been so bad, but now it means starvation for most.”
His wife shuddered and, with a look of pain, turned her head away.
Inga, holding little Merewyn, came from the back of the cave to join them by the fire.
Merewyn was a contented babe, blithely unaware of the desperate times into which she had been born.
Would she be better accepted in Talisand than Scotland?
Merewyn would not be the only half-Norman babe born in England this year.
Looking at the freeman and his wife and thinking of three more mouths to feed, Emma worried about the dwindling stores of food. Their small band of survivors now numbered twelve, including the babe.
While Martha helped Sigga prepare their meal, Emma decided mayhap it was time to broach the subject of where they might go in the spring.
“My father would have us go with him to Scotland,” she told them.
“He will come in the spring to see if that is our desire.” Those huddled around the fire listened intently.
“But we have another choice I would ask you to think on.” She waited, feeling their eyes upon her.
“We can go to Talisand.” To the newcomers, she explained, “’Tis the home of our friend, Sir Geoffroi, and lies a few days’ journey to the west, longer with us walking. ”
“A Norman?” asked Sker, aghast.
“Aye, a French knight,” acknowledged Emma, “but a noble one. Talisand is the demesne of a former English thegn whose daughter is wed to the Norman who is lord there. We have been assured we will be welcome.”
They stared at her, then began to mumble among themselves.
Emma interrupted them. “Whatever we do will mean a hard journey.” She glanced at Inga who held the sleeping Merewyn in her arms. “And if we travel to Talisand, ’twill be dangerous.
Not just because the Norman army garrisoned in York would kill us if they found us, but the wolves we hear at night might set upon us in the forests and there are people so desperate for food they would stoop to violence for what little we have.
” She was not telling them anything they did not already know but she felt she had to warn them.
“We cannot stay in York,” said Inga.
They all nodded. The horrors of war had come home even to the children.
“I would choose Scotland,” said Sker’s wife, “but I know nothing of it.”
“I want to go where Mathieu is,” Finna insisted. “He will go to Talisand.”
When the new arrivals looked to Emma for an explanation, she said, “Sir Geoffroi’s squire.”
“He is very kind,” added Inga.
“And I would go with Sir Geoffroi,” said Ottar. “He might let me be his page!”
“We will go with you,” said Artur, taking his wife’s hand and looking at Emma. “Sigga and I have discussed it. We are part of your family. Wherever you go, we will go.”
“Aye,” said Sigga. “We are fond of Sir Geoffroi and if you choose Talisand, we are with you. I would not have you go without us. Maerleswein would never forgive us.”
Emma smiled. To hear such words warmed her heart.
Her servants, her twins and her friend were her family.
She wanted them with her. But she wanted them to know the risks they faced.
“We would have to cross the fells and rivers swollen with spring rains. We could not forage for food until we passed the salted lands. It would be especially hard on the little ones but they can ride Thyra.”
She reminded herself this time they would have no guards.
For all their grumbling, her father’s men had been faithful protectors.
What did Artur, a house servant, and Jack and Sker, who were farmers, know of guiding women and children over such obstacles?
Even she did not know Talisand’s precise location, only that it was in the Lune River valley to the west. Would they be able to find it?
As she stared into the bright flames, the responsibility for the others weighed heavily upon her.
Jack spoke into the silence. “We would go wherever we can farm.”
“I remember hearing Sir Geoffroi speak of the wondrous place called Talisand,” said Sigga, “where the English live in peace with Normans. There is land to farm there.”
“Must be land in Scotland,” said Sker’s wife.
“Aye, but colder winters than in England,” said her husband.
“I wonder if ’tis possible to live in peace with Normans,” Inga muttered beneath her breath but Emma heard it.
Inga’s reaction did not surprise her. The decision to live among Normans would be difficult and she had voiced such concerns before.
Given her being unwed, Inga would face disapproval and shame wherever she went.
At least at Talisand, she would have friends who understood.
“We do not have to choose today,” Emma reminded them. “I know some will want to think on it.” Her gaze fell upon Inga and her babe. “Scotland is far but with my father guiding us, ’twould be safe. Talisand is closer but the journey will be difficult.”