Page 10 of Rogue Knight
“Nay. I will go myself but you must keep Finna safe while I am gone.”
His forehead creased with worry as he came fully awake. “My lady, no! If there is trouble in the city, the streets will not be safe for a… a… gentlewoman such as you.”
“Then the streets are not safe for a child. I cannot sit around wondering where Ottar might be.”
She was gratified to see the look of resignation on his face.
“You will take Magnus with you?” he asked.
“I will. Do not worry.” Knowing that he would, she added, “I will stay away from the fray.”
“Come, Magnus,” she commanded the hound as she walked to the front door and reached for her cloak. “We must find Ottar.”
The sky was a pale blue when she stepped into the street coated with fresh snow and headed toward the source of the rising noise.
Several streets from her house, Emma encountered large numbers of York men, carrying spears and swords, moving from all parts of the city in one direction: toward the Norman castle. Hugging the buildings, she moved in the same direction, near enough to the crowd to observe, but not so close as to become embroiled in any fighting. All the while, she desperately searched for Ottar, but did not see him among the men.
Following the crowd, she drew near to the mass of rioters waving their weapons in front of the Norman edifice.
A shout rose above the din. “Kill the castellan!”
In the distance, ahead of the crowd, a mounted Norman, richly attired, tried to control his panicked horse. A small group of mounted knights surrounded him, attempting to force the crowd away from the noble. The press of the mob caused the knights’ horses to rear. One knight drew his sword to slash at a man on the ground, but as he did, another man ran the knight through with a spear. When the knight fell, his throat was slit, blood spattering the crowd.
Emma was stunned by how suddenly death had come to the Norman.
The mass of shouting men engulfed the other Normans. She heard the knights’ cries as they were pulled from their horses, followed by mockery from the rebels as they hacked at the bodies, taking their vengeance.
The richly attired Norman was the last to be pulled from his horse as the bloodthirsty crowd closed in on him. She did not see his end. Hearing his cries had been enough.
Emma turned away, shocked at the violence, her stomach sickened by the sight of so much blood. She understood the anger that had led to the scene she had witnessed. But she could not love it and hoped with all her heart Ottar had not seen the slaying of the noble and the knights. She shuddered to think of the Normans’ revenge that would surely come in its wake.
***
Geoff stood in the great hall of the castle as chaos ensued following the killing of the castellan. Knights reached for weapons. Captains roared orders to their men-at-arms. Geoff looked for Malet. Spotting the sheriff across the room, he headed in that direction when Alain came to tell him the men were prepared for battle and awaited him in the bailey.
“I will join you as soon as I can,” he assured Alain and continued his path toward the table where Malet sat with some of his knights.
“Fool!” Malet exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, causing tankards of ale to dance, their contents splashing onto the wood. “Whatever compelled FitzRichard to leave the castle at first light? He was aware of the angry mood of the people yesterday. What could he have been thinking?”
“He paid for his rash move with his life,” admonished Geoff. “No need to find fault with him now.” Roused from his bed by the shouts outside the castle, Geoff had witnessed the slaughter himself. None, save the foolish castellan and his personal guard of knights, had ventured out of the gates. Why they had done so no one knew. If FitzRichard had set forth with hundreds of knights instead of a few, the loss could have been avoided.
In the aftermath of FitzRichard’s slaying, men prepared for battle as servants hurriedly set about lighting candles on the table where Geoff and a small group of knights now gathered with Malet in the great hall.
“I want the gates kept shut until the king arrives!” Malet ordered. The sheriff’s senior knight moved to obey. Malet raised a hand. “Wait!”
The knight paused and turned toward Malet with a questioning look.
“Send two men out the postern gate to ride south and warn the king of the rebels’ action,” ordered the sheriff.
“Yea, my lord.” The knight bowed and departed.
“William cannot be far,” Geoff assured Malet. “We received word he was marching north before I left Talisand.”
“Nay, not far,” Malet murmured as he anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “Knowing William as I do, he will be most displeased when he arrives for I have failed to keep the peace.”
“’Tis not clear any could,” said Geoff. “The Northumbrians will not easily accept a king they do not see as theirs.”
“You know the king as well as I. He will make them accept him no matter the lengths he must go to in order to see it done.”
