Page 71 of Rogue Knight
Since the guards had cleared the brush away from the entrance and let Thyra out to be watered, the cave took on the faint light of the new day, making it easier to see using only the light of the cooking fire.
Finna was the next to rouse from the rear chambers, stumbling out as she rubbed sleep from her eyes while clutching her poppet. The cloth plaything had become her constant companion, its red tunic now soiled from being dragged everywhere with the child. It occurred to Emma the poppet was, to Finna, a symbol of happier days.
She held out her arms to Finna who came to sit in her lap. “Are those your warm socks?” she asked the child.
“Yea, and my warmest tunic, but I’m still cold.”
She hugged the girl to her. “Soon the fire will warm you and we will have some hot gruel in our stomachs.” She rubbed Finna’s belly making her laugh.
Artur and the guard returned carrying water and more wood. Magnus, trailing alongside the men, trotted over to greet Emma and Finna. The child stroked his rough fur as he plopped down next to Emma.
“I think your hound likes living in the forest,” said Artur, handing his wife the wooden bucket, water sloshing over the sides. He took the wood from the guard and stacked it next to the cooking fire. “Magnus was a happy fellow, running in circles around us.”
Magnus’ tail beat against the ground as if he were anxious to tell her of his morning adventure.
As the men sat around the fire, Jack and Martha came from their chamber to join them, reaching out their hands toward the warmth of the fire. Jack scratched his belly, then ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I sleep right well in the cave,” he remarked with good humor.
“Speak not for me, husband,” said Martha, rubbing her back. Her brown plaits were graying but she was not old. “I can nay get used to the hard ground.”
Once Ottar and Inga had risen from their pallets, they all sat together around the fire, breaking their fast. Emma was glad for their company, for each had given to her in his or her own way. And she had given to them all she could.
When they had finished the meal, they went about their chores.
Emma set aside her half-eaten bowl of gruel. Her stomach lurched and her head suddenly began to pound. She did not feel at all well. Raising her palm to her forehead, she felt her burning skin. Unlike the others, she had not felt the cold.
***
Two weeks before Christmas, because rumors persisted of rebels around York, William ordered Geoff to lead a group of knights to make a sweep of the buildings that still remained in the city and to scout out the surrounding countryside. Geoff selected nine knights to accompany him, Alain and Mathieu, who was nearly a knight himself. All had been with him on the march to Durham.
Inside the city walls, there were enough homes and shops remaining, even some that had been newly rebuilt, that it seemed prudent to Geoff to divide the men into four groups of three, each taking a different section of the city. He reserved the quadrant containing Emma’s home to search for himself.
With Alain and Mathieu on either side of him, he rode through the debris-filled streets of York, past the burned out Minster, to the part of the city where Emma had lived. A rain had melted much of the snow but patches of white remained. The homes in that part of the city had not fallen victim to the fire, but as they began their inspection, it was clear they had been ransacked and were devoid of people.
Entering Emma’s home, Geoff was assaulted by memories. It was cold now, but he imagined a blazing fire in the hearth ring and Emma sitting beside the flames. In his mind, he heard the laughter of the twins. He could smell the stew they had shared. He could taste the honey wine.Where had Emma gone?
“’Tis a mess,” said Alain when they discovered the chests in Emma’s chamber, the remains of their contents scattered on the floor, the things the departing Danes or arriving Normans did not want.
Geoff stared at Emma’s bed, remembering the first time she had brought him here and their first coming together. He turned away, but not before Alain had seen his regret.
“At least with her father, she is safe,” the Bear said.
“Aye,” was all Geoff could manage to say.
They walked through each room, taking more time than they might have with another dwelling. The house had more memories for him, each room bringing a picture to his mind of the twins or Magnus, Sigga and her berry tarts, even the sword-maker and his daughter.
He could see by the gloomy expressions on the faces of his companions that he was not the only one with fond memories of the times they had spent in this home. “Come, let us be done with this,” he urged Alain. “We still have the woods to search.”
Before he left the house, Geoff retrieved one thing he had hidden there under some boards beneath the work table inside the kitchen.
As had been his plan, sometime later they joined the rest of the men on Coppergate. Other than a few villeins who had taken shelter in some of the homes, they found nothing of note. There were no warriors and no rebels.
“You did not kill the people you found, did you?” he asked the others.
“Nay,” replied one of the knights. “Done enough killing of serfs.”
“Bien. I too would have spared them. Now for the woods.”
To better enable them to cover the surrounding countryside, Geoff divided the twelve men into two groups and chose for himself the woods to the west of the city.
