Page 54 of Rogue Knight
“I have long wanted the Normans and their castles gone from York,” she said, “but I shudder to think what it may cost us to see it done.”
Before he could answer, the archbishop’s assistant approached. “His Lordship is expecting you. Please follow me.”
Her father raised a brow to Cospatric.
“I made certain he was available to see us,” explained the earl.
The monk led them to a room behind the nave near the great library. He opened the door and bid them enter.
In a carved chair set to one side, the archbishop sat clothed in a fine, white linen tunic belted at the waist. His countenance was drawn and pale. His body slumped against one side of the chair. He did not look well.
Her father introduced Cospatric, though he was known to the archbishop.
When her turn came, Emma greeted him as “My Lord Archbishop” as was her custom, yet he had never insisted anyone call him more than “Father”.
With a frail hand he bade them sit. Then he waited, studying their faces.
“Do you know why we have come?” asked her father.
“I know that Danish ships sail toward York. FitzOsbern has told me.”
“Yea, ’tis true. And soon we will meet Edgar.”
“So, the Ætheling returns from Scotland,” the archbishop said with a sigh. “I do not think it wise.”
“But he is the rightful king of England,” protested Cospatric. “We would have you crown him as such.”
“I once thought to do so,” said the archbishop, sinking deeper into his chair. His face was lined with sorrow. “But no more. I crowned William and now he is king. And king he will remain.”
“Even of the North?” her father asked, his brows drawing together in a frown.
“Yes, even here. The time has come for peace, Maerleswein. Do not fight what you cannot change. It will only lead to many deaths.”
“We must fight,” her father insisted.
“Many rise with us, Good Father,” Cospatric said, his expression hopeful. “Not just the Danes and others from Europe. All over England there are those who want an end to the Normans. People whose lands have been seized, who cannot pay his egregious taxes, people who refuse to become his serfs.”
The archbishop looked troubled as he let out a deep sigh. “I feared it was so.”
A long silence hung in the air. Emma thought the archbishop might fall asleep he appeared so weak, so weary.
At last, her father spoke. “So you will not name Edgar king, even if we are victorious, as we are certain to be?”
The archbishop let out a sorrowful breath. “Nay, I will not.”
The two men rose and she with them. What more could they say? Her father and Cospatric said their goodbyes and turned on their heels to leave, disappointment clear on their faces.
She told them she would join them shortly and remained with Ealdred. She had thought to seek his advice but seeing how frail and pale he was, she did not want to trouble him. “You do not look well, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Nay, my daughter,” said the old man, patting her hand with his ancient, bony fingers. “I am old and it is time for me to leave this life for the next. I do not wish to see what will follow this day. But I will pray for you.”
She gave him a small smile before taking her leave. “God bless you, Father, for the good you have done.”
“And you my daughter,” came the feeble reply.
Before she left the cathedral, Emma stopped at the altar and said a prayer for the man who had faithfully served God for so long.
CHAPTER 11
