Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Two days later, in the cold, chill air of a morning without sun, Geoff watched from the top of the motte as the building of the second castle began, this one on Baille Hill on the opposite bank of the River Ouse. They were close enough he could hear men shouting orders to the workers as they formed a huge pile of dirt into the mound from which the square tower would rise. Behind him in the bailey of the older castle, the loud clash of metal and shields sounded from the practice yard.
Seeing Northumbrians forced to join in the building of the new castle, he remembered Emma’s words. And the regret in her beautiful eyes as she spoke of her people being forced to build yet another symbol of William’s reign.
In her home lived a man who was more than a servant. A tall man, most likely for there had been a shield. Could such a man defend her against knights like Sir Eude? He banished a sudden image of a man sharing her bed. Nay, whoever the man in her home was, Mathieu must have the right of it—’twas a brother she had failed to mention. If not a brother, mayhap an uncle or a cousin.
Emma was three years widowed. ’Twas possible her husband had died before the Battle of Hastings. If that were true, at least she would not hold Geoff responsible. Was it not time for her to marry again? He thought of Eawyn, so different from Emma of York, and yet both widows. And both had suffered at the hands of those seeking to conquer England. If he were to pursue the beautiful York widow, would she rebuff him, as Eawyn had? He would not vie with a ghost for her attention .
In the distance, hundreds of men swarmed over the mound that would become the new motte like ants on honey, moving dirt to the desired shape. Emma would be pleased to know it was not only Northumbrians who had been forced into the work. Some of the men were from William’s army. To one side of the men working, piles of new wood were neatly stacked. Such a horde of workers would soon make use of the timber. The king was obviously in a hurry.
At the sound of boots crushing the thin layer of snow, he turned to see Malet coming toward him. Geoff raised his head in greeting and gestured to the work underway. “’Tis a furious pace the men set to build William’s new castle,” he remarked to the sheriff.
Malet nodded and took his place beside Geoff to watch the construction. “William expects the castle to be finished before he leaves for Winchester where he would celebrate Easter.”
Geoff shook his head. “That leaves little time.”
“Less than a fortnight before he must depart for the South.”
As he looked out over the city, Geoff pondered what the people of York might be thinking. “William demands the people of York accept his rule,” he mused. “Do you believe they will?”
Malet crossed his arms over his chest and looked beyond the rising castle. “I know not, but having seen the stubborn resistance in their eyes, I doubt it. Many of the rebels have fled into the woods where they hide among the trees. We believe some went north to Durham. Their leaders remain at large.”
“The rebels and their leaders will no doubt return.” The realization made Geoff lose hope for peace in York.
“Mayhap even this year,” Malet added in a somber tone.
“I understand William has sent Gilbert and a group of Flemings to Durham to root out the rebels there.”
Malet shrugged. “You can hardly blame him. Durham supplied men, arms and money to the rebels in York. The king would see them all dead.”
“Mayhap Gilbert will be successful and the rebels will no longer trouble us.”
“We will see,” said the sheriff. “In any event, William has made Gil the new castellan, so he will remain in York when he returns.”
“The king needed another after FitzRichard’s murder.” Geoff remembered the morning the foolish castellan had been killed by the angry rebel throng and ruefully wondered if the men from Durham had done the deed.
Malet looked at him with sudden interest. “What about you, Sir Geoffroi? What task is yours?”
“I am to hunt with my knights to add to the storehouse of meat for William’s army. Sir Alain readies the men even now.”
“Feeding William’s army is a worthy task and will keep you busy with so many mouths to satisfy. The pigs and cattle from the surrounding countryside will soon be exhausted. Roast venison, boar and hare stew will be welcomed by the men.”
Geoff loved to hunt but he didn’t relish being the supplier of food for so great an army. “Others will surely hunt as well. Not all William’s men will be building the new castle or searching out rebels.”
“You can be glad the king will leave within a fortnight, taking his army with him. Will you go as well?”
“My men and I are to remain in York,” said Geoff, not unhappy at the prospect because of Emma.
Malet grinned. “Then I shall look forward to seeing more of you.”
“Aye.” Geoff said, as he waved his goodbye and headed toward the bailey.
***
Emma stole a glance at Inga as they broke their fast together. Days had passed since the rape, and while the girl’s body was recovering and the bruise on her face was fading, she still woke at night screaming in terror. Though hidden from view, the violent taking of Inga’s innocence would leave scars that would remain forever. It was those deeper wounds of the soul Emma feared the most for her friend.
Inga drew her arms tightly around her body as she stared at the bread before her, trembling even now, mayhap tormented by thoughts of that night.
Emma reached out and touched her hand. “You are safe here, Inga. And your father recovers. In time, you will both be well, you will see.” Knowing Inga worried about her father’s livelihood, she added, “Artur has seen that Feigr’s shop is secure and your servant knows you and your father are here.”
Inga turned, her gray eyes looking at Emma. “You have been kind to do so much for us. I only wish the terrible dreams would leave me. I wake in the night with frightening pictures in my mind, my body drenched in sweat. Oh, Emma, I shall never forget.”
She would not lie to her friend. In her experience, the truth, while painful, was better handled than a lie. So it had been when she was told of Halden’s death. “No, I do not expect you will. But, in time, that memory will fade, replaced by other, happier ones.”
Inga reached for some bread. Emma was glad to see she was eating. In the first days after the rape she had refused food.
Watching the young woman with her emerging beauty, Emma recalled the young men of York who had flirted with Inga when her father’s head was turned. The flirting had been a harmless foreshadowing of the courting that would soon follow. Inga was pretty and many young men had noticed. Would those young men still want Inga now that her innocence had been taken and her body befouled by one of the French knights? Or, would they pity her but refuse to take her to wife? Emma was determined they would not know, for it was certain they would reject Inga if they did. She had seen it happen before. Inga had been an innocent victim, but no decent man would want as a wife a tainted woman.
Sigga entered the room carrying a tray laden with bowls of steaming gruel. “’Tis well your hound hunts, my lady. Even if Artur would allow me to go to market, I hear the stalls are bare. What the fleeing rebels did not take, the Norman soldiers devour.”
Emma was thankful for the provisions they had stored and the meat her hound put on their table. “It’s as if Magnus knows to do his part. He keeps us well stocked with hares. As long as our few chickens lay eggs, we’ll have those, too. When the weather warms, we can plant vegetables.”
“We’ve enough stored for stew till then,” said the cook. “And there is hope the Norman king and his army will leave. Surely he has business elsewhere. Saxons to slaughter in Wessex mayhap.” The last of her words had been spoken sarcastically, Emma knew. None of them wished the Norman king on the English in the South.
“I imagine half of England is in rebellion against him,” Emma said, glancing at Inga eating her gruel. She did not have to remind the girl that Eude would likely remain when the army left since he had been garrisoned in York with the building of the first castle.
Suddenly, Ottar exploded into the room, followed by Finna at a slower pace. They climbed onto the bench seat at the large trestle table across from the two women. Ottar’s eyes roved over the steaming oatmeal and his countenance fell. “Gruel again? ”
“’Tis what we have now,” Finna chided her brother. “At least you have food.”
Emma marveled at the wisdom coming from one so young, but Finna had always been older than her years. Smiling at the girl as her brother dove into his gruel, Emma said to Ottar, “There is plenty of fresh bread and butter. We’ll have hare stew for dinner and tomorrow there will be eggs.”
His eyes fastening on the pot of thick golden syrup on one side of the table, Ottar shouted, “And honey!”
“Aye,” said Inga, seemingly cheered by the young ones. Directing an encouraging smile at Finna, she added, “And honey.”
***
A sennight passed and to no one’s surprise, not the least of which was Geoff’s, the king announced he would see the new castle rise on Baille Hill before he took his army south. Thus spurred on, the building proceeded at a furious pace and Geoff and his knights were ordered to continue their daily hunts in the forests of York.
They had been hunting nearly all day when Alain, looking at the ever darkening sky, remarked, “’Twill be gloaming soon. What say you we take the four deer, the hares and the boar we have and retire from the field?”
Geoff chuckled and turned to see Mathieu with one of the red deer strapped behind his saddle. “Yea, I have been seeing a goblet of wine and a juicy slice of venison in my mind for the last hour.”
With his raised arm, Geoff drew the men to a halt. Just as he did, the wailing sound of a wounded animal rent the air, sending an eerie shiver down his spine.
“What in the name of Saint Peter is that?” bellowed Alain.
“’Tis not far, sir,” observed Mathieu. “Do you want me to go see?”
Geoff hesitated, thinking. The sound had been an eerie one, not easily identified. He remembered that rebels hid in this same forest.
“Hold, Mathieu. Let us go together. I would see this for myself.” Geoff ordered the other knights to take their bounty back to the castle, while he, Alain and Mathieu remained. He waited until the sound of thundering of hooves died away, then urged his companions deeper into the woods. “Come, let us see what beast cries from the forest.”
They walked the horses through the underbrush of the dense stands of pine. The wail turned into a long trailing howl as the beast shrieked its suffering.
“There!” shouted Mathieu. “Across that dense hedge, ’tis a wolf caught in a trap.”
Through the thick foliage, Geoff caught a glimpse of fur, a rough, dark gray coat of a large animal. “’Tis no wolf,” he said, “’tis Magnus, Emma’s hound, or one just like it. Looks like his leg is caught in a snare.”
Geoff cautiously walked Athos nearer to where the giant hound was desperately gnawing at the snare around its back leg. Between them was a thick hedge of tangled undergrowth. With every movement of the hound, he imagined the snare tightening, causing the hound more pain as it cut into his leg. Already, blood dripped from where the wire had sliced into its flesh.
“Poor beast,” murmured Mathieu from behind him.
“Aye,” acknowledged Alain. “If we had not found him, the hound might have chewed off his leg trying to escape. Wild animals do, you know.”
“Or the wolves may have taken their revenge,” suggested Geoff, dismounting and slowly walking toward the hedge that was between him and the hound. He would have to crawl through the underbrush. Dropping to his hands and knees, he began to push his shoulders through the hedge. A wave of anxiety flowed over him as the darkness of the thick bushes closed about him. He hated places that were closed in with no light. It reminded him of that time when he was a boy. Refusing to think of it, he closed his eyes and pushed through. Thankfully, after only a short distance, he emerged into light.
Rising, he took off his gloves and tucked them into his belt. The experience in the dense bushes had left him sweating. Aware his companions were watching, he wiped the sweat from his brow and walked to the hound and knelt. He reached out his hand, still uncertain if it was Magnus. The hound’s eyes were wild with fright. If it were Magnus, he hardly looked himself.
From behind him, Alain urged caution. “Best be careful, he may bite. He looks mad with terror.”
“Magnus,” Geoff softly spoke to the hound. “You know me, Magnus. Do not fear. I will free you.”
At his voice, the hound calmed. His dark eyes, looking more like those of Magnus, intelligent and keen, followed Geoff’s every move.
He extended his bare hand to the hound’s nose, letting him sniff. A wet tongue lapped at his fingers, telling Geoff he’d found Emma’s dog. Pleased at the trust shown him, Geoff patted the rough fur on Magnus’ head. “’Tis all right, boy, I will soon have you free.”
“You’ve a way with the creature, sir,” Mathieu said, dismounting. “May I help?”
“First, I must free him and see the damage the snare has wrought.”
Geoff looked at the bloody leg just above the rear paw. He drew his knife from his waist and sliced through the thin wire. Magnus whimpered and when the hound realized he was free, tried to rise, but unsteady on his wounded leg, he fell to the ground with a groan and commenced licking the wound.
Geoff sat and lifted the leg onto his lap. “Let me see, Magnus.” The hound did not resist but moaned. The wound was bad and if not tended, could result in the hound losing the leg, or worse.
Alain circled around the bushes and forced his way through the thick underbrush. He came to Geoff’s side and crouched, handing Geoff a cloth. “Here, take this for the bleeding.”
Geoff wrapped the cloth snugly around the hound’s leg, all the while speaking encouraging words as Magnus watched him with his dark, trusting eyes.
“Mathieu, hold Athos.” With a huff, Geoff lifted the large hound into his arms. “He’s as heavy as his mistress.”
Alain’s mouth twitched up on one side. “Surely that can be no burden.”
Geoff rolled his eyes.
Content now that he had been rescued, the hound lay pliant, resting his large head over Geoff’s shoulder.
“Aye, Magnus, you are among friends,” Geoff said, avoiding another wet kiss from the beast. He followed Alain through the opening the huge knight had found in the thick brush. Walking to Athos, Geoff said, “If Magnus will allow you to hold him, I can mount and then take him.”
At Alain’s nod, Geoff carefully handed Magnus to him. The hound allowed it as if he knew what they were about.
Geoff quickly mounted and accepted the hound across the saddle, settling him onto his lap. “We shall return Magnus to his mistress.” With his free hand, he turned his horse back toward the walled city.
“Emma will be grateful,” observed Mathieu.
“That was my fervent hope,” Geoff mumbled, a grin forming on his face.
** *
Emma paced in front of the hearth fire, her eyes darting from Magnus’ empty pallet to where her cloak hung on a peg near the door. “I must search for him,” she said to Artur, who stood close by, as worried as she was. “He has never stayed away so long. It will soon be dark. Something must have happened.”
“I can go, Mistress,” Artur bravely offered.
“You cannot ride. And I may have to go a great distance to find him in the forest. ’Tis best I go.”
Making a decision, she grabbed her cloak from the peg near the door. “I cannot say how long I will be gone, for I know not where he hunts. You and Sigga feed the others their supper while I am away.”
“Do you want me to saddle Thyra?”
“Nay,” said Emma, “I can do it.”
Artur shot her a concerned glance that told her he wanted to scold her for going out at this hour, but he did not. He had been with her long enough to know when her mind was made up there was no stopping her.
She unlatched the door and heard the sound of pounding hooves. Stepping out of the door, she saw three knights riding toward her, slowing their horses as they approached. Normans. One had the straw-colored hair of Sir Geoffroi for he wore no helm. Across his lap he carried… Magnus! She nearly cried out with relief. Tears filling her eyes, she ran to meet the three men.
“Magnus! Oh, Sir Geoffroi, you found him!”
Magnus gave out a bark and joy filled her heart. The hound was alive. But the blood-soaked cloth around his leg told her he was hurt.
The one she recognized as Sir Alain dismounted and came around to Sir Geoffroi’s horse to accept Magnus into his arms. Sir Geoffroi swung his leg over his saddle and slid off his horse, reclaiming the hound.
The squire, who had also dismounted, gathered the reins of the three horses.
“I think you know where the stable is at the back of the house,” she told him. He nodded and headed around the house.
“What happened?” she asked Sir Geoffroi as he carried Magnus through the door she held open.
“Caught his leg in a snare.”
“Oh, Magnus,” she murmured softly, reaching out her hand to stroke his head.
Sir Geoffroi asked, “Where do you want him?”
“You can lay him on the pallet next to the hearth where I can see to his injury.”
He and Sir Alain entered and she pointed to the straw-filled pallet near the fire. “Just there.”
Sir Geoffroi laid Magnus on the pallet and she closed the door behind the men as the twins came bounding down the stairs.
“’Tis Sir Geoffroi,” said Finna.
“The one who carried me home?” Ottar asked, his gaze taking in the tall mail-clad men. Emma had explained to the boy that it was Sir Geoffroi who had brought him home from the clearing and that the knight was a most unusual Norman.
“’Tis him,” said Finna. “He is one of the Bastard’s knights. He told me so himself.”
Sir Alain covered a cough with his hand.
“Finna!” exclaimed Emma. She had forgotten to tell Finna not to use that name for the Norman king even if it was truth.
Sir Geoffroi chuckled. “Hello, Ottar, Finna.” Pointing to Alain, he said, “This is my friend, Sir Alain. I do not think you met him Finna but he was with me when we brought Ottar home.”
Finna nodded shyly.
“What happened to Magnus?” inquired Ottar as he stared at the blood-soaked bandage on the hound’s leg.
“He caught his leg in a snare,” said Sir Geoffroi. Rubbing his lower back, he remarked, “That beast is no light thing.”
“Yea,” Emma admitted, kneeling next to the dog, “he’s full grown now and large even for an Irish hound.”
Magnus’ tail thumped the ground as his mistress stroked him and the children came to watch.
Emma liked how Sir Geoffroi was with the twins, more tender than she would have expected a hardened knight to be. And he had carried her beloved hound back to her. He might be a Norman but she was now thrice in his debt. How could she be so ungracious as to not welcome him into her home?
“Sit,” she said from where she knelt next to Magnus, gesturing to a bench by the hearth. She sent Sigga, who had come into the room, for some mead. To the knights, she said, “You must stay and share some mead. ”
Sir Geoffroi cast a glance at his companion who nodded. “Aye, we will gladly stay.”
Emma shrugged. Normans were in her home again. And for some reason their presence this time did not disturb her. Thank God her father was on his way to Denmark. He would never have accepted the fact there were French knights who did not live to rape and kill.
***
Geoff drank deeply of the sweet honey wine Emma’s servant had brought him, warming his body in front of the hearth fire. The French did not prefer the drink but they had served it at Talisand a few times.
Mathieu returned from seeing to the horses and joined them.
The hound looked up at him from where he lay on the pallet with his sad, dark eyes, apparently content with Emma’s attention as she lovingly removed the cloth around his leg and inspected the wound.
Magnus whimpered.
Emma gasped. “The cut is deep.”
The twins leaned over the hound’s leg. “Will he be all right?” Ottar asked.
“It has not cut into the bone,” she assured the lad. “If I can stop the bleeding, and the wound does not fester, he will heal.”
Geoff did not envy the hound the nasty gash but he did envy the attention it was getting from the fair, young widow. Seeing how skillfully she cleaned and dressed the wound, he was reminded of how she had tended Ottar. “You seem to know what you are about.”
Not looking up from where she worked on the dog’s leg, she replied, “I have tended a man’s wounds more than once.”
He was curious to know what man she had tended. The one with the large feet? Or, mayhap her husband. But he did not ask. “Your hound is a strong one,” he remarked, watching her plait catch the light of the fire, turning it golden. The thick braid flowed down the back of her dark blue gown as she bent over her hound. He imagined her flaxen hair coming unraveled as he took her in his arms and kissed her. His body responded, his loins swelling with desire. Shaking off his wandering thoughts, he reminded himself that despite his attraction to her, she was a proud Northumbrian woman. And, at the moment, they were sitting in her home, surrounded by her family .
When Emma finished tending the hound, the twins took her place on either side of the beast, and began stroking its fur. Magnus laid his head in Finna’s lap and closed his eyes.
Emma came to sit beside Geoff, which pleased him greatly. Alain sat on his other side and Mathieu next to Alain. Her eyes fixed on the twins and the hound, she said, “Thank you again for bringing him home. I was not sure I could find him.”
He could not have explained it if asked, but Geoff felt very protective of her even though she was not his to protect, even though she harbored hatred for his king. “I would not have you wandering through the forest in search of the beast. ’Twould not be safe, especially this late in the day.”
She turned her beautiful eyes on him. “I did not want to go, knowing it would soon be dark, but I could not leave him alone thinking he might be hurt.”
“Does he often hunt in the forest?” he asked.
“Yea, more so now that food is needed. He brings home hares nearly every day, proudly dropping them at the door.”
“I will gladly supply you with meat, Emma,” Geoff said. He would supply her with more, were she to ask. But for now, at least he could see that she and her household were well fed.
The servant, Sigga, refilled their goblets.
Mathieu took a drink as Geoff said to him, “Before we leave, take the deer from your horse and give it to the lady’s manservant.”
“Aye, sir, I will.”
After all, Geoff mused, he and his men were doing the hunting for the king. It would not be difficult to see this family had sufficient meat to sustain them. And it would give him an excuse to see her again.
“We are grateful for the deer,” said Emma, “but will your king allow you to feed a York family?”
“My knights and I hunt each day,” he told her. “You can have the deer. We took others my men carried back to the castle. ’Tis not like we are feeding rebels.” Something flickered in her eyes just then, causing him to wonder. Could the man she harbored be a rebel? Could she be one herself? He remembered the knife she would have wielded against Eude. But from what he had seen, there had been no women among the rebels. “The king would not object to my providing meat for women and children as long as I continue to feed his army.”
“Will you and your men stay for the evening meal?” she asked. Then with an amused smile, “We’ve plenty of hares for stew.”
He shot an inquiring glance at Alain and Mathieu. They had expected to eat venison, but the deer they would give Emma would take too long to prepare. He was hungry, as always, and happy to see Alain and Mathieu nodding.
Geoff turned his attention back to Emma. “Aye, and thank you.”
She rose, crossing before him, her enticing curves drawing his attention. A woman of her character and beauty was rare. London had its beautiful women and he had not been unmindful of their charms directed at him. There were available women at Talisand, too, but none were like Emma of York.
“Feigr is still abed with his injuries,” she informed him. “’Tis best he not know I entertain Normans. I will ask his daughter, Inga, to join us, but I must first tell her you and your men were the ones who rescued her father, else the sight of a French knight will make her fearful, as you can imagine.”
“Yea, I can. Are you certain we should stay?” He had no wish to upset the young woman.
“It may not be easy for her, but ’twould be best if she meets you. I have already told her not all Normans are like the one who attacked her.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, my lady.” He remembered their first meeting in the clearing when she had been angry and spiteful. “It gives me encouragement.”
She did not see the smile that came to his lips. Instead, she turned and, without a word, went up the stairs, leaving him to wonder if the missing man whose large shoes he’d seen would also be joining them for the evening meal.
***
Emma returned to the hearth room with Inga. Sir Geoffroi knelt beside Magnus with the twins on either side of him. The children listened attentively as he explained where he had found the hound and how he had freed Magnus from the snare. Her heart warmed. Such an unusual knight.
She introduced Inga, who was shy around the men, but walked with Emma to the table. In one corner of the room was a bowl of water set on a small table. Next to it was a clean linen cloth.
“Wash up, children,” said Emma .
Finna obediently stepped to the bowl and washed, then dried her small hands.
Ottar followed. Shooting a glance at Sir Geoffroi who had come to the table, he said, “She makes us take a bath every Saturday, too.”
“ Everyone takes a bath on Saturday,” Finna reminded her brother.
When Emma and Inga washed their hands, Sir Geoffroi announced, “We will wash our hands as well, Ottar. ’Tis needed.” He winked at Finna.
“Here,” said Sigga, bringing another bowl from the kitchen, “clean water for you and your men.”
Once the hand washing was complete, they took their seats on the benches that were on either side of the table, the knights and the squire on one side and Emma, Inga and the twins on the other. Candles flickered in the center of the table as Sigga dished out the steaming stew into bowls. Artur poured more mead and brought fresh baked bread and butter, making Emma’s stomach rumble. She watched covertly as everyone in the room crossed themselves to acknowledge their gratitude before the meal, including the Norman knights. Her heart warmed to see their rough manly courtesy.
“I will be glad when I can once again buy food from the market,” remarked Sigga.
Emma nodded her agreement and turned her gaze on Sir Geoffroi, watching him as he spread a generous amount of butter on his bread, licking his lips. He obviously loved to eat. “Venison is a boon we did not anticipate. The deer will keep us in meat for many days.”
“My men took several deer and a boar this day,” said Sir Geoffroi. “’Twill be no hardship to leave one of the deer with you.”
“How long will your king and his army remain in York?” It was the question that had consumed her mind in recent days. She did not doubt it was a question Inga thought of, too. Emma’s father would have wanted to know had he been here. She was glad he was not. How could she introduce the knights to her father, a leader of the rebels?
He set down his bread and took a drink of his mead. His sun-streaked hair glistened in the candlelight. Her gaze shifted to his chiseled jaw that softened when he laughed, which was often. She was so absorbed in watching him, when he spoke he startled her.
“’Tis been a sennight since William arrived in York. Word in the castle is that he will depart soon. The king would be in Winchester by Easter.”
She picked at the vegetables in her stew, then raised her gaze to meet his. “Who will he leave in charge? The same one as before, William Malet?”
“Malet is still sheriff and helping with the castellan duties but, because of recent events,” he shot a side-glance at his fellow knight, “the king’s friend, William FitzOsbern, is now charged with keeping the peace.”
How prudent of him not to describe the recent events. “I do not know of him.”
“He has long been with the king, but I only met him last year at Talisand.”
At the mention of the name she had heard him speak before, she cast a glance at his companions. “Are you also from this place Sir Geoffroi speaks of, this Talisand?”
“Yea, my lady,” said Sir Alain, taking another piece of bread to dip into his stew.
Mathieu nodded and, looking at Inga, said, “’Tis a beautiful place with its own river.”
Emma had purposely seated Inga across from young Mathieu, who appeared to be a few years older than the sword-maker’s daughter, thinking he would be less threatening than the knights. Happily, she was right. The young squire was polite and solicitous of Inga, offering her bread and pouring her wine when her goblet was empty, but speaking little. In some ways, he was as shy as she was. Despite all she had endured, Inga responded to his gentle nature, even offering him an occasional smile. Their exchanges encouraged Emma to believe Inga would one day be able to put behind her the tragic events of the recent days and eventually view men without terror.
When they finished their meal, the knights thanked her and rose to leave. Emma was reluctant to bid Sir Geoffroi goodbye. It was a strange feeling, knowing he was the enemy, yet she found it difficult to think of him as such. His easy laughter and kindness made him seem less an enemy and more a friend. She had not always had such laughter in her life. She had loved Halden, but he had not been a man who laughed easily. Being with Sir Geoffroi was like sitting next to a warm fire on a cold night.
“I am sorry to take your leave, my lady,” he said, “but the hour grows late and we will be expected. Hopefully with the king’s departure, we will not have to hunt so often, but I promise to keep your table in meat, so you can confine that hound of yours to the house while he heals.”
Her gaze drifted to the hearth where Magnus was asleep on his pallet. “Mayhap he has learned his lesson with snares.”
Ottar came to bid the knights and their squire good eve, his eyes focused on their swords hanging at their sides. She worried he was a bit too fascinated by the knights’ weapons. It had been the boy’s longing to see the men fighting that had drawn him into the clearing that terrible day.
Finna gave Sir Geoffroi a small wave from where she stood with Inga several feet from the men. The knight waved back. Sir Geoffroi and Finna had made some kind of connection, just like he had with Magnus. He was the only Norman that Magnus had ever warmed to. To most he was indifferent, to others hostile. The knight’s two companions had certainly not drawn the hound’s affection as Sir Geoffroi had. It was yet another sign of the knight’s being unique.
Once Mathieu and Artur had brought the deer around to the other side of the house for Artur to butcher, the Normans departed. Emma felt a pang of regret as she watched them ride away. If she were honest, she would have to admit Sir Geoffroi was becoming more than a friend.
She closed the door and, sending the twins to their chamber, went to join Inga standing near the hearth. The girl was less pale than she had been in the days following that horrible night. “How are you, Inga?”
“I am all right. He was kind.”
Emma knew Inga referred to the squire. “I wanted you to see they are not all alike. Even I have had to learn that among those who would kill and maim are those who would help and heal.”
Inga raised her eyes to Emma. In their gray depths, she sensed confusion. “But how is one to know?”
“All men are known by their actions,” Emma counseled, inwardly giving herself the same advice. “And observing those takes time. Even with that, we can never forget the French knights are sworn to serve their Norman king.”
Inga nodded and her gaze drifted up the stairs. “I think I will look in on Papa. He was sleeping when I left him but he may have heard us talking. He will want to know who was here.”
“He would like to see you,” said Emma, knowing the girl’s father worried about her and did not like for them to be long separated.
“I do not think I will mention your guests were Normans,” said Inga thoughtfully. “He would not be pleased to know that.”
“Yea, you speak truth. He might try to rise from his bed to claim justice no matter these Normans were the ones who helped him.”
Inga nodded her acceptance and turned toward the stairs.
“I will see you in a short while,” said Emma. “I want to see if Sigga needs any help and then I will make sure the children are in bed. ”
Emma’s gaze followed her friend as she ascended the stairs to the bedchamber Feigr occupied. Then Emma set about her nightly chores, all the while thinking of Sir Geoffroi. In her mind, she saw the creases that formed at the corner of his eyes when he laughed. She remembered his kiss, too, and it sent warmth rippling through her. His gift of the deer would see them well fed. ’Twas unusual for a knight, hardened by war, to have such a tender side. She thought of the wistful look on his face when his fellow knight and squire spoke of Talisand. Could such a place exist where Normans and English lived together in peace? Surely it was only a dream.
***
The next day, Geoff stood at the top of the motte, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing the king’s procession pass through the gate. William, apparently satisfied his new castle was rising sufficiently from Baille Hill, left for Winchester with his army and FitzOsbern.
Gilbert de Ghent, the new castellan, departed shortly after with his Flemish mercenaries in tow, bound for Durham. Far better they should stalk armed rebels than the innocent maidens of York.
Once the two contingents of soldiers had gone, Geoff went to the bailey where he was to meet his men.
“I was surprised to see Malet is still sheriff,” Geoff said to Alain as they mounted their horses, preparing to leave on a hunt. Today they would hunt wild boar, something they were becoming quite good at.
“Yea, William needs him. But the king is taking no chances on another failure. I overheard him tell FitzOsbern that he is to return here after Easter.”
Geoff signaled to his men and led them through the gate. He did not worry overmuch about the comings and goings of William’s favorites. There was still a garrison of knights that remained. He hoped the city would soon come back to normal. He and his knights would hunt less often and mayhap he could visit Emma more frequently. The last time he had been to her home had given him hope she might one day entertain his suit. To have a summer wooing the Northumbrian widow was a pleasant thought, bringing a smile to his face as he and his men headed for the forest.