Chapter 16
Geoff and his men, along with that part of William’s army not left in York, were driven mercilessly across England, heading southwest over the snow-covered peaks lying between the cities of York and Chester.
They rode through barren hills and dales and splashed through icy streams. The middle of England was a vast wilderness with few inhabitants. Their food consisted of meager pickings except for the few times they managed to hunt and the pace William insisted upon kept their hunting trips few.
Cheshire in the west of Mercia had yet to be conquered and William had vowed he would not return to London until all of England was his.
The city of Chester in the far west of Cheshire near Wales stood like a last remaining column in a long forgotten temple, a symbol of lands still free.
But, if William had his way, ’twould not be for long.
With unrelenting determination, the king pushed his men forward.
The cold took its toll in suffering and even the death of some horses.
Men in William’s army had begun to grumble, particularly those from Anjou, Brittany and Maine, who were neither Norman nor English.
They wanted to be released, but William would not hear of it.
Instead, for their complaining, the king told them they would serve another forty days.
Though he was not among those affected, Geoff inwardly groaned at the news.
Having already endured one march through snow and ice, it now appeared he and his companions would have to endure another.
But they did not complain. When he could, Geoff helped the men whose strength was faltering, encouraging them to go on.
And he took special care with Athos to ensure his horse did not fall.
When he grumbled, it was not to William, but to Alain.
“I like not this duty that takes us over so much ground claimed by winter’s brutal storms. My only hope is that we will soon see the rich pastures of Cheshire.”
“I remember well those pastures. We rode through them two years ago.”
As it turned out, when they reached Cheshire, much to Geoff’s dismay, those rich pastures were covered in snow for the harsh winter was even felt here.
More than a year before, at William’s command, Geoff and the Red Wolf had ridden to Exeter in the south of England to join the king’s army where they laid siege to the walled city. Like Exeter, Chester was an old Roman town with Roman walls, a fortress that would have to be taken by force.
And take it they did by William’s order.
The resistance they met was fierce, but unlike William’s actions in Exeter, where he granted mercy, in Chester he offered none.
Instead, he inflicted the same drastic measures on Cheshire he had on York and Durham.
The king ordered his knights to ravage the countryside, wasting the land to assure there would be no base for future rebellion.
It sickened Geoff to see such a beautiful land treated so.
But William had grown intolerant of anything save total submission secured at any cost. The king’s mercy was at an end.
As before, Geoff resisted the killing of innocents.
Instead, he and the few men who agreed with him helped those who were left homeless, the young and old and women and children, to escape.
He had heard the Abbey of Evesham to the south was taking in those fleeing William’s wrath and so he directed the fleeing toward that shelter where Abbot AEthelwig provided food to the hungry. For all his help, some still died.
If Geoff had ever had a taste for war, he lost it in the snows of England that winter.
Once William conquered Chester, to no one’s surprise, he ordered the building of a castle as a sign of his lasting imprint on that city.
Since it had become more difficult for Geoff to disguise his actions to help the fleeing English, he was greatly relieved to be among those knights who were then released from the king’s service.
It surprised Geoff that William, who had acted so ruthlessly to force the people to submit, could then give God thanks for blessing what he regarded as his “holy work” of conquering the whole of England.
Geoff believed the holier work had been that of Abbot AEthelwig.
But he accepted William’s thanks and words of honor and, with a grateful heart for the end of it, turned Athos north toward Talisand.
As they rode north, Emma was never far from his thoughts. Would she have sent word? Should he go to her even if she did not?
* * *
By the time Geoff arrived at Talisand, winter was turning to spring.
Rain had followed the snow and the hills were once again clothed in green.
The picture he had carried in his mind for over a year, of wildflowers dotting pastures where lambs idly grazed, was beginning to take form.
There was no starvation in this valley of the River Lune for it was well tended by the Lord of Talisand and his lady, Serena.
“’Tis just as it was when we first arrived,” Geoff said as they reined in their horses on top of a hill to gaze down the long slope leading toward the green meadow in front of the palisade that backed onto the River Lune.
“Only the castle you see in yon distance was not there two years before,” said Alain.
“Aye, of course,” he said letting out an exasperated breath. “But all else is the same, the palisade, the village, the river. I have missed this place.” How I wish Emma was here to see it.
Spurring their horses to a gallop, the three of them raced down the hill to the palisade surrounding the bailey, the manor and the motte on which sat a timbered castle three stories high.
Aethel must have seen them coming for as soon as they passed through the gate and Alain slid from his horse, she flew into his arms.
“Ye have a daughter, husband!” exclaimed the dark-haired beauty as she brazenly kissed her husband.
“Lora?” asked Alain, sweeping his wife off her feet for a hug only the Bear could give.
“Aye,” she said breathlessly, “a babe among many babes born at Talisand in the year ye have been gone. I cannot wait for ye to see her. I was so worried when the tales started coming to us from York.”
Shooting Geoff a glance, Alain said, “’Twas a bad time. But we’ll not speak of it now. I would see my child.”
Alain took his wife off, arms wrapped around each other, making Geoff smile to see them together. Once the old thegn’s leman, Aethel had become the treasured wife of the Norman knight.
Geoff dismounted and handed the reins to the waiting Mathieu. “You served me well, Mathieu. ’Tis time you were a knight and had your spurs. I will see Ren about it.”
“Thank you, Sir Geoffroi. It was an honor to serve you and Sir Alain. Sir Renaud is a grand knight ’tis my privilege to call ‘lord’, but he is no better lord than you.”
“That is quite a compliment coming from Ren’s squire, but if it be so, it is because Ren and I share the same heart. We may be men of war, Mathieu, but neither of us would see innocents suffer or women ill-treated.”
Mathieu bowed his head and led their three horses toward the stables, leaving Geoff alone in the bailey. But not for long.
A smile on his wizened face, Maugris walked toward Geoff, his thin frame covered by a fine tunic of dark blue Talisand wool.
“I suppose you saw our return in your visions?”
“Nay, ’twas the king’s messenger. At least this one bore good news.”
Geoff took off his gloves, his helm he’d left tied to his saddle. “You were right about it all, Maugris. There was more death than I ever want to see again, innocents among the guilty.”
“But you return a better man, one who has faced evil and stood against it.”
“Aye, at least I hope so,” Geoff said, still wondering if he had done enough.
“And what of the woman?” asked the old man, the breeze blowing his gray hair across his forehead, his pale blue eyes seeing too much as they always did.
“I have no woman,” said Geoff. “Mayhap I never will.”
Maugris chuckled. “You would quit the field too soon.”
Geoff studied the old one’s wrinkled face, all lightheartedness gone from his ancient countenance.
“The Red Wolf has his jewel,” said Maugris, “and, in time, Sir Geoffroi, you will have yours.”
* * *
That night a great feast was held in Talisand’s hall, constructed by King William’s command two years earlier.
Torches and candles lit the large space and fresh rushes smelling of dried spring flowers had been laid on the floor.
It was the kind of welcome Geoff and his companions had talked about during the days they rode home.
He was glad William had decided to ride south for another crown-wearing ceremony, this one at Winchester.
Talisand would have a more intimate feast without him.
At the head table, Ren and Serena sat in the middle with Geoff on Ren’s right. On Geoff’s other side sat Alain and Aethel. Maugris had a position of honor next to Serena.
Serving wenches, some new to Geoff, carried platters of roast venison and lamb to the tables.
There was also baked fish from the river.
To this were added peas spiced with cumin, turnips boiled with thyme and dill, and all manner of cheeses.
He was delighted to see the hot bread placed near him along with butter.
’Twas more food than he had seen in a long time.
“’Tis a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach,” he told Ren.
“Serena says you are more welcome than the king and so she spared no effort to see you and Alain had the best.”
Geoff chuckled. “Aye, your lady would welcome almost any of William’s knights more than the king himself.”
Serena leaned over her husband to offer Geoff a smile.
“Have you been gone only a year?” asked Ren, placing several choice bits of meat on the trencher he shared with his wife.