Page 77 of Rogue Knight
His face softened into a smile. “Yea, ’tis I. And you are finally awake.” He let out a breath. “I believe the fever has gone.”
“But how—”
His warm hand wrapped around hers. “I found your hiding place in the cave. Actually, Ottar led me to it. When I saw you were sick, I brought you here. I have no fondness for caves and the cold was doing you no good.”
“The others?”
“They remain in the cave. I could not bring so many without attracting unwanted attention and Inga was just giving birth.”
“Is Inga…?” Emma despaired of the answer. Giving birth could lead to the death of both mother and child. It was why a mother confessed her sins before giving birth and why Martha, as a midwife, would be allowed to baptize the babe.
“Mathieu brings me reports as well as food, potions and your tea. Inga gave birth to a girl child she has named Merewyn. Both are well.”
Emma closed her eyes as gratitude flooded her heart.Inga lives. Thank God.Remembering Inga’s fears for the appearance of the child, she asked, “Did Mathieu happen to see the babe?”
“He did. He says ’tis a lovely child with the look of her mother: gray eyes and a head covered with a soft, honey-colored down.” He grinned. “Mathieu is quite smitten with the child and mayhap with Inga as well.”
Emma sighed, content at least for the moment. When she swallowed, her throat was parched. “Can I have something to drink?”
Geoff reached for a cup. “Sigga made you a special tea for the fever. I have forced a little down you every few hours. The fever has left you, but I would have you drink the rest of it. Then, if you feel hungry, I have some broth.”
“A knight who plays cook?”
He laughed. “Hardly. Sigga made the broth. I only serve it.” Lifting her head to help her drink, he said, “I could have brought Sigga but she wanted to stay to help with the babe. I even let Magnus remain with them. I trust you do not mind.”
“He will protect them where I cannot,” said Emma, laying her head back on the pillow.
She studied his face seeing no hatred in his eyes, no hostility. The knight who had lain with her in the meadow had returned. “I am so sorry, Geoffroi. I wanted to tell you, but I could not seem to find a way.”
“I know.”
“You forgive me?”
“Aye. When I was deep in the snows of Durham I realized what it must have been like for you, torn between your father and me.”
“Durham?”
“Much has happened.” Then he told her of his king’s dreadful revenge on Northumbria. “My men and I did not take part in the worst of it when cottars and villeins were killed and their cottages burned.” At her look of dismay, he added, “We helped some to escape.”
“The archbishop warned us,” she said on a sigh.
“William was determined to destroy the rebels’ base so they could not rise to challenge his rule again. It was unlike anything I have ever seen, Emma. Worse than the Danes’ slaughter of the garrisons in York, for the end of it was not a battle among warriors.”
“I cannot imagine…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of the women and children, her father, Cospatric and the others—men she had known from her youth. “What of the leaders… my father?”
“I have heard nothing of Maerleswein. If he was with the Danes, they are still on the Humber where William blocks their return to York. They have agreed to accept the king’s gold to leave in the spring.”
“Father will not like that, but then he never trusted Osbjorn’s motives. They had planned to return, you know, or so my father told me.”
“I suspected. Undoubtedly so did William.”
“And the other leaders of the uprising?”
“Earl Waltheof and Cospatric live and have submitted to William. He has accepted them back into the fold.”
“I am glad for it. I know them both.”
A thought came to her mind. He had said that Ottar had showed him the cave. “How did you find Ottar?”
