Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (25 page)

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.

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 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 murmured as if to herself.

Emma was unsurprised at Inga’s reaction. The decision to
live among Normans would be difficult and she had voiced such concerns before.
Given her being unwed, Inga would face disapproval 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.”

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 Æthelwig 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 Æthelwig. 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.

Serena spoke across her husband. “You and Sir Alain have
been sorely missed, Sir Geoffroi. My husband has oft inquired when you would be
home. Maugris was little help, only saying, ‘when it is time’.”

Geoff chuckled at the wise one’s cryptic remark. He was
happy to be home. “I feel like I have lived a lifetime in this last year,
mayhap longer. I am sorry about the knights who left with me.”

“We heard of the Danes’ attack in York,” said the Red Wolf.
“For a while we worried you were dead, but despite the reports of the
slaughter, Maugris insisted you lived.”

“Were it not for a lady’s intervention, I would have gone
the way of the other knights in York.”

“You must tell me of this lady,” said Serena.

“Mayhap in time,” Geoff said.

“You have changed,” said the Red Wolf. “I cannot say how,
but ’tis clear you have changed all the same.”

“If I have changed, Ren, ’tis because our sovereign has
changed. What we were asked to do was worse than Hastings where we fought Saxon
warriors. Worse than Exeter and York two years ago where William showed mercy
to the citizens. In York and Chester, he showed none. Mere serfs and cottars
were slaughtered along with the rebels. Some were children and their mothers.”

Then he told Ren of all they had seen, all they had lived
through, his voice dropping to a whisper for some of it. Serena listened
intently.

The Red Wolf’s brows drew together in a scowl as fierce as
the beast for which he was named. “I see why you no longer laugh as you once
did.”

“What we have seen,” said Geoff, “would make any man lose
his laughter.”

“I doubt it not,” said the Red Wolf. “’Tis regrettable our
sire has resorted to such rough measures to establish his reign. To burn
cottages and destroy cattle, food supplies and farming tools, leaving the
people to starve in the midst of a brutal winter. How can he live with it? I
could not.”

“Nor could I, which was why I did what I did.”

“As I would have done,” Ren said, placing a hand on Geoff’s
shoulder. “I find no fault with your actions. I do feel some guilt for leaving
you and Alain to take it on alone. When my leg was healed, I thought to join
you, but my lady asked me to stay for Alexander’s birth and then the news out
of the North was not good and I wanted to go but Maugris made clear I was not
needed, that you had much to do I could not share in. I have learned to trust
the wise one’s words.”

Alain, who had been listening, leaned across to the Red
Wolf. “All that Geoff has said is true. Not all of the dead lying in our path
were men. William ordered his army to kill and maim not just the rebels, but
any who could support them, whether they did or not.”

“Word has come to us of the starvation that ravages the land
in Yorkshire and in Durham,” said Ren. “A few who escaped have made it to
Talisand. They describe the wasteland Maugris saw in his visions.”

Geoff experienced a terrible knot in the pit of his stomach
when he thought of Emma living amidst such desolation, trying to survive in a
cave. His appetite ebbed and he pushed his trencher away. Again, he questioned
whether he should go to York no matter she had sent no word. He knew
Maerleswein would see to her well-being, but it was not enough. He had to be
sure. He had to know for himself.

When it was time for the musicians to be summoned to
entertain them, a new bard stood before the dais, richly attired. His back to
the hearth, he held a lute in his hands. Two others, wearing jewel colored
tunics, joined him with psaltery and pipe. The music they made soothed Geoff’s
anxious soul but it reminded him of the beautiful music Rhodri had made with
his Welsh harp as Serena sang.

“Is Rhodri no longer among us?” he asked the Red Wolf and
Serena.

“My brother, Steinar, and Rhodri have hied off to Scotland,”
she said with regret in her violet eyes.

“We expected it after Steinar was wounded in the fighting in
York two years ago,” said Ren, “but my lady worries about him all the same.”

“There was no future in England for the son of an English
thegn whose lands were taken from him,” Serena sadly acknowledged.