Page 67 of Rogue Knight
They chose to go with her.
Inga appeared at her door, her hand on her swollen belly. “I have finished, but I fear we will have much to carry.”
“It will be all right. Thyra will carry you as well as our bags. And the guards—though they will surely complain—will carry those things we cannot give to Artur, Jack or Thyra. We will go slow, Inga.”
Inga had never complained, but now Emma saw fear in her beautiful gray eyes. Placing the last of her things into the bag, Emma walked to where Inga stood and hugged her as close as she could, given the child that was between them. “Oh Inga, you will not be alone,” she said into the girl’s honey hair. “I will be with you. And Martha has midwifery skills. She and Sigga will help deliver you a healthy babe if we have not returned by your time.” She wanted to encourage her friend and hoped with all her heart the words she spoke were the truth. Her only experience with birth was the babe she had lost.
When Emma pulled away, leaving her hands on Inga’s shoulders, there were tears in both their eyes.
***
Geoff felt certain William would come. The king’s ego would demand it if not his desire for revenge. Other rebellions in the South might have demanded his attention, but he would not fail to return to York.
Geoff spent a part of each day standing on the top of the motte gazing south to where the River Ouse flowed into the distance, watching for William’s return. At those times, he thought of Emma. He had been to see the garden she had planted with Helise on Baille Hill, a sad reminder of happier days. The wooden fence was torn down on one side and the vegetables had been harvested. What remained of the herbs was now crowded with weeds. He did not go to her home to see if, per chance, she was there. His heart and his body ached for want of her yet always there was her betrayal between them. Besides, he could not imagine she was still in York. If Maerleswein had left with his Danish allies, he would have taken her with him.
Much of the city was deserted and lay in ruins. With winter coming on, the people remaining in York would take shelter in the homes that still stood. Each night he, Alain and Mathieu returned to the house they had been confined in.
They spent most their days securing food and seeing to the horses. He was glad the Danes had left the stables and many of the Norman horses and their saddles. To his great relief, his first search had revealed Athos in a stall in the rear of the stable, next to Mathieu’s black palfrey. But Alain’s tall gray stallion and Geoff’s fine destrier he rode only into battle were missing, likely claimed as booty by some Dane. Alain found another horse to his liking and Geoff contented himself with his chestnut stallion that was his favorite after all.
Geoff stroked Athos’ neck, brushing off the coating of dust that dulled the horse’s rich chestnut color. “You need a good curry, boy.”
“Aye,” said Mathieu from behind him, “I will see to it.”
Geoff shook his head. “Nay. For the time being, we will each tend our own.”
Geoff found a horse comb and curried his horse until its coat shone. In his days as a squire he had enjoyed the task.
Mathieu and Alain set to work tending their horses. Hay and oats had been stored for the winter, so there was sufficient feed.
They found a few village boys milling about who, when asked, told them they had been enlisted by the departing Danes to care for the horses. Mayhap the Danes intended to return after all. The thought did not please him. He could only hope William arrived first.
The job of caring for the horses was a large one for the boys, and so he, Alain and Mathieu joined in feeding and grooming the other horses as well as their own. Fine horses required much care. And the horses would serve William’s army when they finally reached York.
Not wanting to give away their identity as knights, Geoff told Alain and Mathieu not to ride the horses, but to lead them around the bailey for exercise. The boys were happy to have the help and seemed to accept them as Northumbrians.
Geoff and his two companions were careful to speak only English, even to each other.
In late November, in the midst of a cold, spitting rain, Geoff stood on the motte, looking south when a dark cloud appeared moving over the ground.Horses!A cavalry rode in formation followed by hundreds of marching men-at-arms.
William had finally arrived in York.
Now Geoff had no qualms about riding the horses. With Alain and Mathieu at his back, he mounted and sped over the bridge they had managed to repair, meeting William on the other side of the River Ouse.
As they approached the king, his personal guard closed ranks in front of their sovereign. “Hold!” said the captain raising his gloved palm in front of Geoff.
Geoff reined in his stallion and Alain and Mathieu pulled up on either side of him. “My Lord,” he shouted over the guard to William, “’Tis Sir Geoffroi, your knight and two who rode with me from Talisand.”
William shouted to his captain, “Let them pass!”
The knights of the guard parted, leaving Geoff a clear path to the king. Beside William on a handsome steed sat a younger man, noble in appearance with the familiar look of William about him, the same sun-streaked brown hair, prominent nose and blue eyes. Both he and the king wore fine tunics with much decoration and purple woolen cloaks trimmed in gold thread.
When he reached William, Geoff bowed his head and, in a quieter voice, explained, “My Lord, I apologize for our appearance. We have been hiding among the Northumbrians who remain in York. Our numbers are too few to allow them to see us as French.”
William laughed and wiped the rain from his face. “And so you fooled even our guard who should have recognized one of our knights by the way he sits a horse, no matter his apparel or the length of his hair.” The king’s gaze paused on Geoff’s face. “You will need a sharp blade for that beard, sir knight.”
Geoff grinned, fingering the ragged beard he had grown in the last few months. It was darker than his hair and now wet with the rain. “Aye, sire, I will see to it straight away.”
“Robert,” said William to the younger man riding at his side, “this is Sir Geoffroi de Tournai, the one who rides with our wolf.”
