Page 82 of Rogue Knight
“I will hunt,” offered Artur from where he tended the fire.
“If you go,” counseled Emma, “take Jack. The woods are not free of Normans. Even more dangerous than the knights are the people who must be starving by now, willing to kill you for any game you bring down.”
Artur darted a glance at Thyra, Emma’s mare standing just inside the cave. They had talked about the horse. Emma refused to think of Thyra as food, but many would and she was certain that both horses and dogs would be eaten before people gave in to starvation.
A short while later, Jack and Martha came from their chamber to join them around the fire. Not long after, Artur departed with Jack, the two of them vowing not to return empty-handed.
Magnus stood as if he would go with them, but she forced him to stay. “You are worn out and I would have you with us should a stranger find the cave.” The hound lay down as if in understanding.
Inga came to the fire from the chamber where she had been sleeping and Emma handed Merewyn to her.
“I will feed her,” said the new mother and disappeared with the babe into the back of the cave.
It was time, Emma decided, to take stock of what food they had. With Sigga beside her, she went to examine their stores. In the rear chamber, she held her candle high as she opened the roughly woven sacks, inspecting each one. “We’ve grain enough for gruel until spring and, thanks to what Sir Geoffroi carried to the cave, we’ve mead enough. He even brought hay for Thyra, bless him.”
Sigga peered into another group of smaller bags. “There are dried berries, nuts and herbs, but only enough other vegetables for another month. Oh, and we’ve some cheese and apples.”
“Spring is two months away,” said Emma, thinking out loud. “’Twill have to do till then.”
“Mayhap the men will be fortunate in their hunting,” Sigga encouraged, as they returned to the main chamber.
A few hours later, Emma’s spirits lifted when the men trudged into the cave carrying three red squirrels. Magnus sniffed them and walked away as if unimpressed. Emma had to smile. Sometimes the hound spoke loudly even though he lacked words.
“You did well,” she told the men. “As I recall, Sigga makes a fair squirrel stew.”
Sigga, who was a very good cook, smiled. “Aye, I will make short work of them. A few onions and turnips with spices ’twill make a hearty dish.”
It was a few weeks later when a small family of three freemen found the cave in which Emma’s family lived. In truth, it was Ottar they found, gathering wood just outside. Perhaps the boy had been drawn to the man’s son for they were nearly the same age.
“They are hungry, Emma,” Ottar announced, leading the small family into the main chamber. Emma was sitting by the fire putting her embroidery skills to work mending the twins’ clothes.
“You are welcome to share what we have,” said Emma rising to greet them. They must have fled with little more than their clothes and those not in good condition. Their tunics and cloaks were soiled and threadbare, their faces dirty and gaunt beneath their hair. “Come, sit by the fire.”
“I’ll fetch them some mead,” said Sigga, hastening to where they kept the wine.
The small family introduced themselves as Sker, his wife, Drifa, and their son, Hunlaf. Both the father and son had red hair and ruddy complexions; the mother’s hair was golden like Inga’s. If they were to be cleaned of dirt, they would be a handsome family. “We had only a little notice,” said Sker, “but it was enough to save our lives. We grabbed what we could carry as we fled. I am a farmer, unused to hunting. We have been surviving on what we brought with us until recently.”
Seeing the hungry look in their eyes, Emma inquired, “How long has it been since you ate?”
“The day before yesterday,” Drifa said, looking around the cave as she reached her hands to the fire. “It is warm here. You have prepared well.”
“I had a dream that warned us,” said Emma. “We came here before the Normans returned.”
They did not question her dream, only nodded. Such were the beliefs of the people they gave credence to warnings, visions and dreams.
Without being asked, Martha served bread and cheese to their visitors and Sigga brought them cups of mead.
“The bread is stale,” Emma explained, “but ’twill fill your stomachs. Our men caught some squirrels this morning, so there will be stew for dinner. The water in the stream is good, too.”
“We are most grateful,” said Sker as he and his family greedily ate the bread and cheese, washing the small meal down with the mead.
Finna came to sit in Emma’s lap, her brown eyes watching with interest the family across the crackling fire.
When Jack announced he was leaving to gather wood, the two boys happily went with him. “Mind Jack, Ottar,” Emma said.
“You, too, Hunlaf,” Drifa said to her son. Since the woman had first entered the cave, her eyes kept darting to where Magnus lay by Emma’s side, his head on his paws.
“The hound will not harm you,” said Emma, relieved when the woman appeared to relax at her words.
