Page 57 of Rogue Knight
Maerleswein’s spirits soared. Soon York would be theirs once again.
They had left the mouth of the Humber the day before, accompanied by King Swein’s ships with their colorful round shields hanging from the side of the sleek hulls, their square sails billowing with wind. Marching apace along the riverbank were Northumbrians, rejoicing as they went. It was all he had asked for, save that Malcolm of Scotland had yet to appear. But he had the leaders he needed. He had the Danish ships and he had the men.
Next to him, young Edgar braced his hands on the rail and gazed back at the hundreds of ships in their wake. “I have never seen such a sight.”
“Nor I,” said Cospatric, standing next to the Saxon heir.
“’Tis the Danes who will see us the victors,” said Maerleswein. “Swein does not come himself, but he has thrown the might of his people into the fray.”
“What is your plan?” asked Waltheof, the tall, blond Earl of Huntingdon, who appeared every bit the Dane as he leaned on his tall axe, his powerful legs swaying with the ship’s movements.
“Unless Osbjorn has a better idea, I would make camp and attack at first light,” said Maerleswein.
Waltheof nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Your plan pleases me.”
Another hour brought them within sight of the city. Gazing off the leeward side of the ship, Maerleswein stared in shock, for where there should have been the city, there were only tendrils of smoke rising from scorched ground. The only structures he could see above the blackened earth were the castles of the Norman king.
“What goes here?” Cospatric asked, his face showing the shock Maerleswein felt.
Anger such as he had never known surged through Maerleswein’s veins. “Have the Normans destroyed the city?”
The crews rowed their ships to the bank of the river where a crowd so great he could not number it poured forth to greet them, shouting their welcome and joining the Northumbrians who had traveled the bank of the river all the way from the Humber.
“You there!” Maerleswein shouted to one of the men coming to greet them, “What has happened to cause this devastation?”
“’Tis the Norman scum’s doing,” said the man as his lip curled in a bitter scowl. “They thought to keep us from filling their ditches by burning the homes that ringed the castle. ’Twas bad enough they took so many homes, but then the fools let the fire escape.”
“My God,” breathed out Cospatric.
“I must see my daughter,” said Maerleswein. He gave orders to his men and soon tents began to rise on the bank of the River Ouse. “I leave you in charge, Cospatric, while I go in search of Emma.”
“Do you think Emma is safe?” the earl asked, his face speaking his disquiet. It pleased Maerleswein to see the look of concern in the earl’s eyes. Mayhap he already considered Emma as a future wife.
“Aye. You know as well as I, Emma is a resourceful woman. She would have fled the blaze. I but go to see for myself how she fares and to leave guards who will assure no Dane thinking to pillage comes close to her. I will return ere long.”
Taking some of his most trusted men, Maerleswein mounted the dark bay horse he had brought with him on the ship and left Osbjorn and Cospatric to organize the camp.
***
Geoff joined FitzOsbern on the battlement, looking north into the smoldering ruin of the city. Malet and Alain stood with them. The cloud of smoke had mostly cleared now and the blue sky reappeared in places in stark contrast to the black ash and charred timbers. It saddened Geoff to think of the destruction.
In the distance, what was left of the tall Minster rose from the ground, a charred hulk whose bell was now silent. Ravaged by fire, the wooden parts of the church had burned, but bits of its skeleton remained to signify the terrible loss. He was glad the archbishop had not lived to see it.
The fire had raged for two days, cutting a swath through the city from the castles north toward the cathedral, destroying homes and shops along the way. Small fires still lingered where there was fuel. Oddly, the blaze had left some buildings undamaged, a home here, a shop there, as if it had carefully selected which structures would be its victims.
Consumed with fighting the fire’s incursions into the outer palisade fence, he had not been able to return to Emma’s house. From what he had heard, it was possible that, lying so far to the northeast, it might have been spared. It was his fervent hope and his nightly prayer she was well. She was his heart and he could not live without her.
From the other side of the battlement, a great hue and cry suddenly arose. He and the other men quickly crossed to the other side to look down at the point where the River Ouse met the River Foss.
His heart sank as understanding dawned. As far as his eye could see, longships were unloading at the banks of the river. “The Danes have arrived.”
“There must be hundreds of them,” said Alain beneath his breath.
“And thousands of warriors,” said Geoff. As they watched, the Danes, armed with axes, swords and spears, poured forth from the ships to be embraced by Northumbrians waiting on the shore.
“Mon Dieu,” gasped Malet, gaping at the Danes swarming ashore.
FitzOsbern said nothing but the scowl on his face spoke loudly.
