Page 9 of Rogue Knight
Geoff followed Malet up the stairs that led from the bailey to the top of the motte, his spurs jangling on the steps. At the top, a great square tower rose three stories into the air, providing a strategic view of the surrounding countryside and the forest beyond.
Once inside the tower, FitzRichard came to greet them in the main hall. “Welcome, Sir Geoffroi. ’Tis glad I am to see you. Has Malet told you the news?”
“Yea, and unwelcome news it is.”
“We can talk after you are settled in your chambers. You and Malet are housed on this level.” To Malet he said, “Your lady wife awaits you.” Then taking a long perusal of them, he added, “By the look of you, a bath is in order. I shall see each of you has one, but best to be quick. Supper will soon be served.”
Geoff and Malet thanked FitzRichard for his hospitality and followed the summoned servants who showed them to their chambers.
Geoff was relieved to shut the door on the confusion of the main hall. He unbuckled his sword belt, laid the scabbard on the small table and slumped onto the bench by the brazier that warmed the chamber. He unfastened his spurs and pulled off his short leather boots, shaking off the mud.
A knock sounded and he rose and opened the door to see two servants carrying a large copper tub, followed by lads carrying buckets, steam rising from the water. A bath was a rare privilege and he would not fail to avail himself of it after days of slogging through mud.
When the servants had gone, he stripped off his clothes and sank into the hot water, leaning his head against the metal edge. He closed his eyes with a sigh. As he did, the faces of the people of York returned to his mind, one beautiful woman’s in particular.
Angry faces all.
CHAPTER 3
She floated above the forest, the sounds of battle ringing in her ears. In a clearing below her, men fought, their swords clashing then sliding against each other, the sound of metal against metal loud in her ears. Grunts and moans filled the air as sword points encountered unmailed chests and necks and sank into vulnerable flesh. Flashes of red streaked across her vision. Blood. So much blood. Bright crimson against white snow. Flashes of light laced with blue sliced through the air. When the bright light was gone and the sounds died away, all that remained were corpses carelessly strewn about the clearing. Wind stirred in the surrounding trees, sounding like souls ascending to Heaven.
Loud shouts roused Emma from her dream. She woke startled, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to clear her mind. For a moment, she stared at the roof, listening, as she forced her heart to calm and the terrifying images faded. But the shouts did not.
Fully awake, she sat up and gazed about her chamber. Light seeped around the edges of the hide that covered the window, telling her it was morning although the sun rose later in the winter months. The air was chilled, the coals in the brazier, having been banked, gave little warmth. Throwing off the cover, she reached for her fur-lined robe and slipped on her leather shoes. As she stood, Magnus roused from the floor at the foot of her bed and came to greet her, his tail wagging, his large eyes gazing at her expectantly.
She pulled on her robe, looking down at the hound. “Do not look at me as if I know what is causing the clamor outside. I do not.”
Hurriedly, she left her bedchamber and descended the stairs with Magnus close on her heels. The hearth fire was already a steady blaze. Near the door, her father was strapping on his sword belt.
“What is it, Father? What is happening?”
“It sounds like the thegns mean to start the uprising without me. My men, along with those of Cospatric and Edgar, are camped outside the city, but from the sounds of it, the men of York have had enough of the Normans. Or mayhap the men from Durham have arrived.” He shrugged. “Either way, it has begun. I would have waited for the Danes, but it was not to be.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead and unlatched the door.
He stepped through the doorway. The din was louder but she could not see any men in the street.
“I will be back as soon as I can,” he assured her.
With that, he was gone.
Emma let Magnus out and waited for him to return, shivering as she stood in the open doorway, listening to the shouting coming from the center of town. She drew her robe more tightly around her, relieved when the hound quickly returned. She shut the door behind him and paced before the hearth fire, considering what to do. She was anxious to see for herself what was happening in the city. But there were Ottar and Finna to worry about. She would check on the children first.
She ascended the stairs to her chamber, hurriedly donning a linen shift, blue woolen gown, warm stockings and her soft leather half boots. With Magnus by her side, she hastened to the twins’ chamber. Soundlessly, she pulled open the door. In one bed Finna slept with her little fist curled under her chin. Emma’s eyes shifted to the next bed. The cover was tossed aside, the bed empty. She quickly scanned the room but Ottar was not there. Her father had said nothing about the boy when he left. Mayhap he woke hungry and went to the kitchen for bread and honey.
She rushed downstairs, passing the hearth and the large table, as she headed toward the kitchen. Ottar was nowhere in sight. Worry was beginning to creep into her thoughts when she knocked on the servants’ bedchamber door on the other side of the kitchen. How they had slept through the tumult in the streets, she did not know.
The door creaked open and Artur’s bleary-eyed face appeared, his brown hair tousled. “M’lady?”
“Do you not hear it, Artur? There is a great uproar in the city. My father has gone to see the cause of it for himself. He believes an uprising has begun. Do you know where Ottar is?”
His face took on a puzzled expression.
“No, I can see you do not. I wonder if he may have followed my father into the streets.”
Now more awake, Artur mumbled, “You know he is always wanting to be with the men, my lady.”
“This is not a day for him to be out there alone, especially if my father has no idea Ottar may be trailing him.”
“Should I go in search of him?” asked Artur.
