Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (26 page)

Ren took his wife’s hand. “I know it is hard, my love, but
’tis the way of it. At least you are still lady of your people.”

“I know, husband,” she said giving him a tender look. “For
myself, I am content. But for Steinar, I worry.”

From where he sat next to Serena, Maugris spoke. “Steinar
will make his own way, my lady. ’Twill not be easy for such a warrior, but he
has known since our coming his future lay outside of Talisand. In Scotland, he
may find it.” He patted her hand. “Do not worry for your brother.”

The music died and the Red Wolf stood and stepped down from
the dais. The hall grew quiet with anticipation as their lord stood before
them. Serving wenches drew to the side to watch.

“And now I must see to the knighting of one who has served
me so faithfully,” said the Red Wolf. “Mathieu, come forward.”

The handsome squire rose from one of the trestle tables and
slowly walked to stand before the knight he had served since before Hastings,
for he had been the Red Wolf’s page at one time.

Geoff had been prepared for what he knew would happen this
night. Mathieu was of an age to take his place among the knights and none could
doubt he had earned the honor. Geoff picked up the sword belt that lay behind
him and stepped down from the dais. When he reached Mathieu, he strapped the
sword on the young man. The superbly crafted blade had been a gift from Feigr,
the sword-maker, when Geoff had helped him and he had managed to store it under
the boards of Emma’s house. Though Feigr typically made shorter swords, this
one was long in the Norman style.

Once the belt was secure, Geoff helped Mathieu to put on a
set of spurs handed him by the Red Wolf, a gift for Mathieu from his lord.

Slapping the squire on the back of the neck, Ren said in a
loud voice that boomed around the hall, “I dub you knight, Sir Mathieu!”

The hall erupted in applause as everyone joined in the
celebration of the new honor for the former squire.

Mathieu bowed to the Red Wolf. “Thank you, my lord.” Then to
Geoff, “and to you, Sir Geoffroi.”

“’Tis well deserved,” said Geoff. “Were it not for your
quick action to summon Emma, I might not be here today.”

Mathieu grinned.

With the toasts that followed, for a moment, at least, Geoff
knew again happiness shared with friends. But all the while, in the back of his
mind was the picture of Emma.

The next day Geoff was in the practice yard outside the
bailey, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of Emma when he realized it was
futile. “Enough!” he cried out, signaling Alain he was breaking off their
sparring.

Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he glanced up at
the sun, nearly at its zenith. The vigorous wielding of swords in feigned
combat required his concentration and every muscle to meet the Bear’s
challenge, but it had not spared him thoughts of the woman he wanted. The
gnawing ache inside his chest was a constant reminder he’d left his heart in
York.

He had held on to the wise one’s words, hoping they meant
Emma would choose him and Talisand. Anxiously, he had awaited a summons from
her, some word, but there had been no news from York. He could wait no longer.

He reached for his shirt where he had laid it against a
stone in the grassy area and looked at Alain. “I’m bound for York.”

* * *

Emma gazed at the flowers shooting up through the ground,
their yellow blossoms catching the light of the sun. She had always loved the
crocuses that hailed the coming of spring. “‘Tis time we decide,” she told
Sigga who walked beside her, Magnus slightly ahead of them roused by new scents.
“Father will come soon, expecting us to leave with him.”

“You do not look to the land of the Scots for your future,
my lady, no matter the Scottish king offers refuge.”

“Mayhap I would prefer Talisand as our destination, but
’twill be a hazardous crossing and I still have doubts I’ve not shared with the
others.”

“Sir Geoffroi cares for you, my lady, and ’twould appear you
care for him.”

Emma had never told Sigga of Geoffroi’s declaration of love.
“Do you think me wrong to want to be with the Norman?”

“Nay,” said Sigga. “He has proven himself many times. If he
says we will be welcome at Talisand and that ’tis a place of peace, I believe
him.”

“Father spoke with Sir Geoffroi when I was ill. I overheard
their argument. He knows Geoffroi has offered me marriage.”

“Marriage?” Sigga raised a brow.

“Aye,” she said and felt her cheeks heat. “I forgot to say.”

Sigga tossed her a grin. “’Twas an important omission.”

“’Twas in the summer,” Emma murmured wistfully. Thinking
back to their days in the meadow and their lovemaking before he had left with
his king. She spoke her thoughts aloud. “It seems so long ago. I do not even
know if he lives. What if we were to go to Talisand only to find him gone, or
worse—dead?” Emma did not believe Geoffroi was dead or she would have felt
something, a loss that she did not feel. He lived, she knew it.

“Nay, my lady, do not think it. He has survived so many
battles. What can one more be to such a knight?”

“Aye, what can one more mean?” Her voice trailed off. Would
Geoffroi always return from his battles for his Norman king? He might yet live
but would the blood on his mail one day be his own?

“I wonder what Inga will decide,” said Sigga. “The others
are for Talisand, even Sker’s wife has come around.”

“I would not go without Inga,” Emma retorted. “I have told
her we will be a family, that I will help her raise Merewyn.”

“Do not worry, Mistress. Inga may hesitate to go where there
are Normans, but she oft speaks of the squire’s kindness and, beyond that, she
will not want to leave you.”

Emma was thinking of Inga when Sigga suddenly said, “I had
best see about what food there is for our dinner. Are you coming?”

“In a moment. I want to think a bit here among the flowers.
Magnus and I will return shortly.”

Emma did not stray far, knowing with the warmer days the
knights might stir from their castles to hunt, though typically it would not be
this late in the day. She idly wondered if there were any deer left for them to
hunt in the forests of York.

York was not the place of her birth, but with her marriage
to Halden, she had made it her home. It was here Finna and Ottar had been born
and become like her own children. It was here she had ridden through the
meadows on Thyra with Magnus bounding along. And it was here she had first
glimpsed the fierce blond knight whose laughter softened her heart as well as
his face. But her future did not lie in York.

She paused at the edge of the stream, swollen with the
spring rains. Magnus wandered a short distance away. As she watched the
rippling water, in her mind she saw Geoffroi’s face, his blue eyes she had at
first thought so stark but now remembered twinkling with laughter. She
remembered his kisses, too, and the last time they had made love.

The fever had disrupted her woman’s bleeding, but she was
fairly certain they had made a child that last time nearly three months ago.
She was still slim from her illness and the lack of food so there was only the
barest hint of a change in her body and she had experienced no urge to vomit as
some women did.

She had told Geoffroi she loved him and it was truer now
than it was then for her love had grown in his absence. And now there was more
to draw her to him.
I want this child as I want him.

Even if she had to face the uncertainty of crossing the
western fells and the thick forests between York and Talisand, she would do so
to be with him. He was her heart’s desire, had been since the night he’d first
kissed her while saving her from his fellow knights. And if he still lived and
had returned to his beloved Talisand, she wanted to be with him.

But she had to wonder. Had he forgotten her? Were his
feelings still the same?

Aloud she whispered to the crocuses, “Does he still love me?
Does he still want me at Talisand?”

“Aye, he still loves you, Emma. And, yea, he wants you with
him at Talisand.”

Emma whirled. There before her, stood the knight of her
dreams, tall and strong—
alive
. “Geoffroi!”

He opened his arms and she ran into them, no matter that Sir
Alain and Mathieu stood on either side of him wearing amused smiles.

“You came!” she exclaimed as he showered her face with
kisses. The tears fell, she could not stop them.

Seeing the huge knight and the squire turn away their faces,
she felt her cheeks heat and started to pull from Geoffroi’s arms, but he held
her fast.

“You did not think I would allow you to be persuaded by your
father to go to Scotland, did you? Nor would I allow you to cross the mountains
and rivers alone. Nay, I shall escort you to Talisand myself. You will come?”

“Aye, I will come. But we must persuade Inga.”

“I will leave that to Sir Mathieu.”

She looked at the squire. “You have become a knight?”

“Aye,” he beamed.

“I am not surprised,” she said. “You have acted the knight
many times in my presence, risking your own life for others.”

Just then an impatient Magnus whimpered for Geoffroi’s
attention. He reached one hand down to ruffle the fur on the hound’s head while
holding on to her with the other.

“He still seems to think the sun rises with you,” she said
with a small laugh.

“I always thought him an intelligent beast,” he said with an
answering chuckle, never taking his eyes from her. He brought his hands to her
arms and gently squeezed the slight flesh. “You are too thin.”

“The north is starving, Geoffroi. We may have little to eat,
but at least I am alive.”

“You are indeed.” His blue eyes sparkled as he drew her
close and kissed her. She welcomed his mouth on hers, welcomed his embrace. His
kiss was an elixir to heal the wounds of the war, to chase away her fears.

He pulled his head back to gaze at her face and her eyes
caught a movement behind him.

Over Geoffroi’s shoulder she saw her family and friends
coming toward them still some distance away. He turned to follow her gaze, as
did the two knights beside him.

“You know most of them,” she told him, “the twins, Sigga and
Artur, Inga and her new babe, my villeins, Jack and Martha, and a family of
freemen who have joined us.”

“All are welcome,” he assured her, drawing her close as they
watched the approaching entourage. The burden she had carried for so long
lifted.

To Emma, Geoffroi whispered. “If I can have you by my side,
I would open my doors to all the rebels in Northumbria.”

She brushed his cheek with a kiss and spoke softly into his
ear, “You shall have me, sir knight.”

The twins broke from the group and ran toward them, coming
to an abrupt stop in front of Geoffroi. He let go of her to sweep Finna into
his arms. She looked over at Mathieu who was now a knight and smiled.

Ottar leaned into Geoffroi’s side and Magnus ran circles
around them and the two knights flanking them.

With Finna in one arm, Geoffroi wrapped his other arm around
Emma. “It seems I have a family.”

Emma could not resist the smile that spread across her face.
“A larger one than you know, sir knight.”

* * *

That night, talking around the low burning fire, they agreed
to depart for Talisand the next morning. Even Inga had decided to go with them
though Emma did not doubt that Sir Mathieu’s comforting presence had something
to do with the young woman’s final decision, for the young knight held Merewyn
while Inga sat next to him eating her dinner.

Geoffroi had anticipated their needs and brought food for
them as well as two carts to help transport them and their possessions to
Talisand.

Sigga made hare stew and all their bellies were full when
the bowls were gathered at the end of the meal.

Just as they finished, Emma felt a breeze as the fire
flickered. She turned to the mouth of the cave where her tall, proud father
loomed, a Northumbrian warrior on either side of him, their hands on the hilts
of their swords. With his outstretched hand, her father stilled their further
movement, as his eyes scanned the occupants of the cave.

Sir Alain and Sir Mathieu stood and drew their swords.

“Nay,” said Geoffroi, gesturing them to sit. “Maerleswein,
come join us.”

Emma walked to her father, placing her hands on his
shoulders and reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Father, ’twas good you came.
After tomorrow, I will be gone and these people will be with me. I would have
left you a message, of course.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed on Geoffroi. “Is this the
Norman’s doing?”

“And mine,” she said softly. “I have made my choice, as have
the others. We are for Talisand. Come, sit by the fire. Share our mead. We
still have a little.”

He stepped into the cave, signaling his men to wait.

Sigga brought all three of their visitors a cup of the honey
wine. “There is stew if you are hungry.”

With a look at his men, her father nodded at the servant.
“Aye, if you have enough to share, Sigga, we would eat.”

When her father was seated next to her, eating his stew, she
asked, “Will you not come to Talisand, Father, to see me wed?”

Her father shot a menacing glance at Geoffroi. From the
other side of the fire, Geoffroi and his men stared back. “You would accept his
offer of marriage when Cospatric has approached me asking for your hand?”

“Aye, I have accepted him. I love him, Father. He is a good
and honorable man.”

Her father’s gaze bored into Geoffroi as the two warriors
did battle with their eyes. Her father must have seen the triumph in Geoffroi’s
face for, after a time, he said, “I see.”

“Will you not come with us?” She tried once more.

“Nay, I’m for Scotland. The price on my head is too high for
me to stay in England. I’ll not be back, Daughter.”

She leaned her head on his broad shoulder and he wrapped his
arm around her, kissing the top of her head. There was great affection between
them, but her future lay with her Norman knight. “At least stay till morning
when I can say a proper goodbye.”

“Aye, we will stay till first light.”

Her father and his two men slept at the mouth of the cave,
their horses just outside the opening. She was certain they slept little,
listening for wolves.

In the morning, he and his warriors took their leave, Emma
and the twins waved goodbye as the men mounted their horses. Would she ever see
him again?

Geoffroi reached his arm across her back and pulled her
close. “He will be all right, Emma. Maerleswein is a survivor. King Malcolm
will be glad to have such a man in his court. Mayhap he will even see Steinar,
Lady Serena’s brother.”

“I told Father to ask about him,” Emma said. “Mayhap we will
hear of them at Talisand.”

“Serena will be as anxious for news as you. Scotland is nay
so far that messengers do not travel to and from Malcolm’s court.”

His words brought her comfort. But when her father and his
men were out of sight, and the twins ran back into the cave, with a deep sigh,
she turned into Geoffroi’s arms and let the tears fall.

Soon after, they were mounted on the horses and some sat in
the carts. In addition to the horses Geoffroi and the two other knights rode,
they had brought with them three more. Artur, Jack and Sker rode but the
knights led them as they were unused to being on a horse. The women, save for
Emma, and the babe Merewyn, rode in the carts.

It frequently rained as they traveled over the hills and
through the dales, leaving the horses to slog through the mud. Once the carts
became stuck, slowing their progress until they were freed. The travelers
huddled under their cloaks and did not complain, counting themselves fortunate
to have survived when so many did not.

A sennight later they arrived in the Lune River valley.
Geoffroi brought them to a halt at the top of a rise.

“I want you to see Talisand from here, Emma,” he said.

The rain had stopped and the sun, hanging low in the sky,
cast its golden rays onto the demesne before them. Ahead of her, Emma could see
a river, curving through the green countryside. Though not as wide as the Ouse,
it was still a grand sight.

In front of the river stood a Norman castle with its square,
wooden tower on a motte high above all. Somehow, knowing it was part of
Geoffroi’s beloved Talisand, it did not seem so brooding and formidable. Below
it was a large bailey surrounded by a palisade fence. From where she sat atop
Thyra, she could see into the bailey. There were many buildings.

Emma could hardly believe all she saw.
This will be my
home.

To the north of the palisade fence, cottages in a
well-ordered village were strung out along the river. The well-kept daub and
wattle structures glowed in the sun’s dying rays. “’Tis as I have dreamed,” she
whispered.

Geoffroi, riding beside her, his hand on the rope towing one
of the other horses, watched her expression. “Aye, ’tis special. Did I not tell
you?”

She looked into his eyes. How she loved him. “You did, but I
did not imagine it as wondrous as this.”

“Aye, and ’tis most wondrous for me because you will be
here, my love.”