Page 30 of Rogue Knight
Emma nodded her agreement and turned her gaze on Sir Geoffroi, watching him as he spread a generous amount of butter on his bread, licking his lips. He obviously loved to eat. “Venison is a boon we did not anticipate. The deer will keep us in meat for many days.”
“My men took several deer and a boar this day,” said Sir Geoffroi. “’Twill be no hardship to leave one of the deer with you.”
“How long will your king and his army remain in York?” It was the question that had consumed her mind in recent days. She did not doubt it was a question Inga thought of, too. Emma’s father would have wanted to know had he been here. She was glad he was not. How could she introduce the knights to her father, a leader of the rebels?
He set down his bread and took a drink of his mead. His sun-streaked hair glistened in the candlelight. Her gaze shifted to his chiseled jaw that softened when he laughed, which was often. She was so absorbed in watching him, when he spoke he startled her.
“’Tis been a sennight since William arrived in York. Word in the castle is that he will depart soon. The king would be in Winchester by Easter.”
She picked at the vegetables in her stew, then raised her gaze to meet his. “Who will he leave in charge? The same one as before, William Malet?”
“Malet is still sheriff and helping with the castellan duties but, because of recent events,” he shot a side-glance at his fellow knight, “the king’s friend, William FitzOsbern, is now charged with keeping the peace.”
How prudent of him not to describe the recent events.“I do not know of him.”
“He has long been with the king, but I only met him last year at Talisand.”
At the mention of the name she had heard him speak before, she cast a glance at his companions. “Are you also from this place Sir Geoffroi speaks of, this Talisand?”
“Yea, my lady,” said Sir Alain, taking another piece of bread to dip into his stew.
Mathieu nodded and, looking at Inga, said, “’Tis a beautiful place with its own river.”
Emma had purposely seated Inga across from young Mathieu, who appeared to be a few years older than the sword-maker’s daughter, thinking he would be less threatening than the knights. Happily, she was right. The young squire was polite and solicitous of Inga, offering her bread and pouring her wine when her goblet was empty, but speaking little. In some ways, he was as shy as she was. Despite all she had endured, Inga responded to his gentle nature, even offering him an occasional smile. Their exchanges encouraged Emma to believe Inga would one day be able to put behind her the tragic events of the recent days and eventually view men without terror.
When they finished their meal, the knights thanked her and rose to leave. Emma was reluctant to bid Sir Geoffroi goodbye. It was a strange feeling, knowing he was the enemy, yet she found it difficult to think of him as such. His easy laughter and kindness made him seem less an enemy and more a friend. She had not always had such laughter in her life. She had loved Halden, but he had not been a man who laughed easily. Being with Sir Geoffroi was like sitting next to a warm fire on a cold night.
“I am sorry to take your leave, my lady,” he said, “but the hour grows late and we will be expected. Hopefully with the king’s departure, we will not have to hunt so often, but I promise to keep your table in meat, so you can confine that hound of yours to the house while he heals.”
Her gaze drifted to the hearth where Magnus was asleep on his pallet. “Mayhap he has learned his lesson with snares.”
Ottar came to bid the knights and their squire good eve, his eyes focused on their swords hanging at their sides. She worried he was a bit too fascinated by the knights’ weapons. It had been the boy’s longing to see the men fighting that had drawn him into the clearing that terrible day.
Finna gave Sir Geoffroi a small wave from where she stood with Inga several feet from the men. The knight waved back. Sir Geoffroi and Finna had made some kind of connection, just like he had with Magnus. He was the only Norman that Magnus had ever warmed to. To most he was indifferent, to others hostile. The knight’s two companions had certainly not drawn the hound’s affection as Sir Geoffroi had. It was yet another sign of the knight’s being unique.
Once Mathieu and Artur had brought the deer around to the other side of the house for Artur to butcher, the Normans departed. Emma felt a pang of regret as she watched them ride away. If she were honest, she would have to admit Sir Geoffroi was becoming more than a friend.
She closed the door and, sending the twins to their chamber, went to join Inga standing near the hearth. The girl was less pale than she had been in the days following that horrible night. “How are you, Inga?”
“I am all right. He was kind.”
Emma knew Inga referred to the squire. “I wanted you to see they are not all alike. Even I have had to learn that among those who would kill and maim are those who would help and heal.”
Inga raised her eyes to Emma. In their gray depths, she sensed confusion. “But how is one to know?”
“All men are known by their actions,” Emma counseled, inwardly giving herself the same advice. “And observing those takes time. Even with that, we can never forget the French knights are sworn to serve their Norman king.”
Inga nodded and her gaze drifted up the stairs. “I think I will look in on Papa. He was sleeping when I left him but he may have heard us talking. He will want to know who was here.”
“He would like to see you,” said Emma, knowing the girl’s father worried about her and did not like for them to be long separated.
“I do not think I will mention your guests were Normans,” said Inga thoughtfully. “He would not be pleased to know that.”
“Yea, you speak truth. He might try to rise from his bed to claim justice no matter these Normans were the ones who helped him.”
Inga nodded her acceptance and turned toward the stairs.
“I will see you in a short while,” said Emma. “I want to see if Sigga needs any help and then I will make sure the children are in bed.”
