Page 15 of Rogue Knight
Emma shot him a glance, her expression stern. “You should leave.”
He rose. Mayhap he had stayed overlong.
She stood. Slowly she raised her head as if gathering her courage. “You have my thanks for bringing the boy home when I could not.” It was clear she had been raised a lady, and her breeding would not allow her to be ungracious to one who had rendered help, even if he were someone she hated. Still, her hostility made it easier to take his leave. Had his reception been otherwise, he might have been tempted to pursue her. A strange thought given he was not looking for such a woman.
But he, too, could be gracious. He bowed before her. “Sir Geoffroi de Tournai at your service, my lady.” He took a few steps toward the door, then paused and looked back. “These are perilous times. Should you ever have need of me, remember my name.”
He turned on his heels and strode through the door, his spurs sounding loud in his ears in the silence that filled the chamber as he left.
***
Emma took a deep drink of her mead and let out a sigh as she stared at the pot of stew Sigga stirred over the kitchen fire while humming a Nordic folk tune as she worked. In her mind, Emma saw only the tall, fair-haired knight. She had not expected kindness from a Norman. Perhaps he felt guilt for the children slain? Had her father been one of those he had slain that day? Might it have been her father’s blood on the knight’s mail?
Sigga paused in her singing to dish out the stew.
Emma spoke her thought aloud. “I am glad my father was not here.”
“Aye,” agreed Sigga, her dark eyes shadowed by her head cloth, “’twould nay have been pleasant.”
“But where is he? Many men from York have been killed and he has not returned.”
“He will be fine, Mistress. Maerleswein is a strong man, good with a sword and a wise leader of men.”
Emma stared at the shelves that held earthen vessels and baskets of herbs Sigga used in cooking, but she was thinking of her father. “Yea, and a leader of the rebellion, too,” she said. “He would have been in the front of the fighting.”
Sigga glanced up from the bowls of stew set before her. “Have no worry, Mistress, you will see him ere long.”
Emma drew comfort from Sigga’s words and idly looked around for Artur, not having seen him since the Normans left some time ago. In the morning, he was often with his wife.
Sigga’s gaze met hers. “Artur has gone to the Minster to see how the old archbishop fares.”
“I had not thought to worry about a man of God. Might the Normans seek to harm him or the church?”
“They will be taking vengeance wherever they can find it,” said Sigga. “The Minster is large and will draw their attention. And some of the rebels may seek sanctuary there. We are fortunate to be so far from the center of town.”
Emma shuddered at the possibility of harm coming to the church and the archbishop. While there were other churches in the city, to the people, the Minster was the most significant, the focus of their daily lives and their hopes for the next life.
Sigga offered her a bowl of the steaming stew. “Here, ’twill do you good. ’Tis cool enough to eat now.”
Emma accepted the dish, warming her hands around it as she sat on a stool. Her strength was spent and the aroma of beef, thyme and coriander roused her hunger. It was the first food she had eaten all day.
“I can take some broth to Ottar and a bowl of stew for Finna while you eat,” offered Sigga. “How is the lad?”
Emma had remained by Ottar’s side until the boy roused. “He is awake but says little. No doubt his head pains him. Mayhap you can take him some willow bark tea with the broth. I will wait to question him until he is stronger.” She took a spoonful of the rich meaty stew into her mouth. “’Tis good, Sigga.”
The servant smiled her thanks as she went about fixing the tea. “All the boy talked about yesterday was wanting to see Maerleswein and his men.”
“I suspected it was so,” Emma murmured. “He must have followed my father to the battle outside the city walls. The lad admires him so. We will have to keep the twins from the streets. The Norman knights are everywhere now. I fear they are not done with their vengeance for the slaying of the noble.”
“Aye, I will watch the children more closely.”
Catching Sigga’s eye, Emma remarked, “I saw the flag of their king and his army of knights with him.” She shuddered at the memory of so many mail-clad mounted knights headed toward the city. “More Normans,” she complained. “Mayhap thousands.”
“Would they were all like the one who brought Ottar home,” Sigga said thoughtfully. “A handsome one, he was, and kind.”
“They are all Normans, Sigga. I would have none in our city and none in my home.”
***
