Page 17 of Rogue Knight
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It was night when the knock came at the front door. The sound was faint and Emma, who had been sorting through some tapestries in her chamber by candlelight, was not even certain she had heard it until Magnus scrambled from the floor beside her and went to scratch at her chamber door.
“All right. I am coming.” She threw on her robe and opened the door of her chamber. Magnus raced down the stairs and scratched at the front door.
This time the knock was a mere thump and then a sound like something falling against the door.
Emma took one look at Magnus and realized whoever was on the other side of the door was someone he knew. He whined and did not growl, so the late hour visitor could not be a Norman soldier.
She unlatched the door and a sobbing Inga fell into her arms.
“Inga!”
The girl trembled as she clutched her cloak tightly to her body.
Emma wrapped her arms around her. “What is it, Inga? What has happened?”
One look at Inga’s face told her questions would have to come later. The girl’s eyes were wide with fear, her cheeks tear-stained. She was incapable of speech.
Still holding Inga, Emma shut the door, making sure it was locked. Wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist, Emma helped her to the stairs. “Come, I will take you to my chamber.”
Together, they stumbled up the steps, Emma helping the young woman whose strength appeared to be at an end. As they neared the top, Inga tripped and nearly fell. Emma gripped her more securely and together they managed to reach her chamber. Magnus followed closely behind. He had known Inga since he was a whelp. She was family.
Emma helped the girl to the bed, gently laying her upon it. Inga mumbled, “He returned… oh, Emma, he came back.”
“Who returned, Inga? Who?”
Inga’s terror-filled eyes fastened on Emma, telling her without words who it was. She remembered the French knight from the day he had accosted her friend outside Feigr’s shop on Coppergate. Eude, the tall, burly Norman with dark hair and a heavy jaw. A sudden loathing came over Emma, fueling her rising fury. Seeing the bruise on Inga’s face, Emma could imagine what had happened.
Artur had apparently heard the commotion, bringing him to her chamber. “What has happened, Mistress? Do you need help?”
“Aye, I need Sigga’s hemlock and wormwood potion that warms and brings sleep. Inga is hurt and needs rest.”
He took one look at Inga, curled into herself on the bed, and departed.
Emma took off her fur-lined robe and draped it over the young woman, then sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand, waiting for the potion to arrive. “Inga, can you speak?”
Inga’s hand was cold despite the heat from the coals in the brazier and the warm robe covering her. “My father… Oh, Emma. The Norman was not alone. The men with him beat my father when he tried to protect me, before the Norman….” She broke off and shut her eyes tightly as if trying not to see the images that haunted her. “The knights who came with him took my father prisoner. I am afraid of what they will do to him.” Then with a shudder, she added, “At least he did not see my shame.”
“Oh, Inga.”It was as I feared.
On the young woman’s face, the bruise seemed to darken. She had obviously been struck. Her heavy, golden hair, always neatly confined to a long plait, was loose and tangled.
Artur returned with the potion, a bowl of water and a clean cloth. “Thank you, Artur. I had not thought to ask for the water and cloth, but they are needed. I must bathe the dirt from her face.” Emma would not mention what had happened to her friend. Artur was a man who had lived long enough to understand what a young woman like Inga might have suffered but he would say nothing. The terrible truth would remain a secret.
“Do you need aught else, Mistress?”
“Yea.” A plan was already forming in her mind. “Once Inga is asleep I will need to borrow a gown and cloak from Sigga. And then I would ask Sigga to sit with Inga. I am going out but I will let you know when I leave.”
“You would leave the house tonight?” He sounded aghast.
“I must.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“Nay.”
“You must take care. The Normans will spare no one. Keep to the shadows.” His countenance fell in resignation as he turned to go.
