Page 7 of Rogue Knight
“I remember you, sir,” Finna shyly admitted.
Cospatric looked pleased.
The twins returned their attention to Emma’s father, whom they adored. Once the Sheriff of Lincolnshire, a man of wealth with eight manors, he had been stripped of his title and his lands once he joined the rebellion. The cursed Norman invader had given those to one of his loyal followers. But her father still had his noble Danish blood and much of his wealth. And he still had the love of the people of York.
“Come sit.” Emma gestured to the benches near the hearth fire. “’Tis certain you are tired.”
The men sat on one of the benches and Magnus settled himself on the floor at her father’s feet.
Finna and Ottar, detecting an adult conversation about to commence, retreated to the kitchen where Sigga was preparing their meal. The smell of the spices Sigga added to the mead, cinnamon and cloves, wafted from the kitchen.
Emma sat on the bench opposite the men and directed her question to her father. “Not that I am not pleased to see you and Earl Cospatric, but why have you left Scotland? Is it safe with the Conqueror’s knights still garrisoned in York?”
“Then you have not heard,” said her father.
“Heard what?”
“The news from the North,” Cospatric finished.
Emma looked at them, puzzled.
Sigga returned with tankards of heated mead and Emma accepted the one offered her. “Drink your mead,” said Emma, “but tell me what has happened.”
She waited until her father and Cospatric had downed some of the honeyed wine, then with eager anticipation, asked, “Well?”
Holding his tankard between his two large hands, her father leaned forward. “Durham has been retaken by the Northumbrians.” He sat back, grinning. “William’s latest earl, Comines, was slain along with his hundreds of raiding mercenaries. Good riddance, I say.”
Emma looked from her father to Cospatric whose countenance had suddenly grown serious. “What can it mean forus?” she asked.
Cospatric shifted his gaze to her father.
A confident smile crossed her father’s face. She had not seen him so pleased since before the Norman Bastard had come to England. “A chance to regain the North, Emma.”
“Can it be true?” she asked, afraid to hope.
Cospatric nodded, apparently sharing her father’s favorable outlook.
It was her most fervent desire, and that of the people of York, to see the city freed of the Norman yoke, but it seemed only a dream when the Norman Bastard had thousands of knights at his disposal. While York had thousands of people living within its city walls, they were unarmed and mostly merchants, craftsmen and shopkeepers, along with the people they served, the freemen, farmers and villeins—not warriors.
“Yea, for we do not come alone, Emma. Earl Cospatric brings with him the Northumbrians from the House of Bamburgh.”
“And the sons of Karli of the Danes of York,” added the earl.
“But the sons of Karli are your enemies,” Emma protested.
“Ah, theywere,” said the dark-haired Cospatric with a slow smile spreading on his face.
“The enemies of our enemy have become our friends,” her father explained.
“Ah, I see.” She was surprised that after so many years of feuding, the great families of the North had banded together. Mayhap her father was right and there was hope. “But will that be enough with so many French knights and soldiers at the Norman king’s disposal?”
“We have sent word to King Swein of Denmark, asking for his aid.”
“The Danes…” Her voice trailed off as she pondered the possibility of the powerful warriors and their dragon ships sailing to York. “Will he come?”
“I cannot imagine he will not,” said her father. “He could hardly give up what was once the capital of the Danelaw to a French bastard, now could he?”
Cospatric took a deep breath and let it out. “The question iswhenhe might come, notif, Emma. Your father and I are prepared to go to Denmark to plead our cause to King Swein if we must.”
