church?”
“They will be taking vengeance wherever they can find it,”
said Sigga. “The Minster is large and will draw their attention. And some of
the rebels may seek sanctuary there. We are fortunate to be so far from the
center of town.”
Emma shuddered at the possibility of harm coming to the
church and the archbishop. While there were other churches in the city, to the
people, the Minster was the most significant, the focus of their daily lives
and their hopes for the next life.
Sigga offered her a bowl of the steaming stew. “Here, ’twill
do you good. ’Tis cool enough to eat now.”
Emma accepted the dish, warming her hands around it as she
sat on a stool. Her strength was spent and the aroma of beef, thyme and coriander
roused her hunger. It was the first food she had eaten all day.
“I can take some broth to Ottar and a bowl of stew for Finna
while you eat,” offered Sigga. “How is the lad?”
Emma had remained by Ottar’s side until the boy roused. “He
is awake but says little. No doubt his head pains him. Mayhap you can take him
some willow bark tea with the broth. I will wait to question him until he is
stronger.” She took a spoonful of the rich meaty stew into her mouth. “’Tis
good, Sigga.”
The servant smiled her thanks as she went about fixing the
tea. “All the boy talked about yesterday was wanting to see Maerleswein and his
men.”
“I suspected it was so,” Emma murmured. “He must have
followed my father to the battle outside the city walls. The lad admires him
so. We will have to keep the twins from the streets. The Norman knights are
everywhere now. I fear they are not done with their vengeance for the slaying
of the noble.”
“Aye, I will watch the children more closely.”
Catching Sigga’s eye, Emma remarked, “I saw the flag of
their king and his army of knights with him.” She shuddered at the memory of so
many mail-clad mounted knights headed toward the city. “More Normans,” she
complained. “Mayhap thousands.”
“Would they were all like the one who brought Ottar home,”
Sigga said thoughtfully. “A handsome one, he was, and kind.”
“They are all Normans, Sigga. I would have none in our city
and none in my home.”
* * *
From the trestle table where he sat with Alain eating the
evening meal, Geoff gazed beyond the crackling hearth fire and the ascending
smoke to where Malet sat at the head table with his wife, Helise, and their two
young sons. The hall was crowded with knights eating a dinner of roasted lamb.
The low rumble of male voices in conversation filled the large space.
Helise’s face, normally serene, was lined with worry. Geoff
did not wonder at her concern, given what must have transpired between William
and her husband. Mayhap Malet would not long hold the position of Sheriff of
Yorkshire.
Alain shifted in his seat, his eyes following the object of
Geoff’s interest. “William appeared none too happy when he took his seat at the
dais and now he glares at Malet between sips of wine.”
Geoff looked at his friend. “You speak uncommonly much this
night.” The knight the Red Wolf had dubbed “the Bear” for his size was known
for speaking in grunts and growls more often than words.
“I speak when I have something to say.”
“Which is not often,” Geoff teased. “But I do not doubt the
truth of your words. ’Tis certain Malet earned a stern rebuke, though being a
friend of the king, I expect it was delivered in private.”
“Likely while we were seeing the injured lad home.”
“Yea, likely so.” Suddenly the vision of the beautiful York
widow ministering to the boy returned to Geoff’s mind. Despite her hostility,
he was anxious about her living alone with only children and servants while the
streets of York swarmed with knights, men-at-arms and mercenaries looking for
trouble, looking for women to ease their battle lust.
Returning his attention to his meal, he stabbed a large
piece of meat and
“They will be taking vengeance wherever they can find it,”
said Sigga. “The Minster is large and will draw their attention. And some of
the rebels may seek sanctuary there. We are fortunate to be so far from the
center of town.”
Emma shuddered at the possibility of harm coming to the
church and the archbishop. While there were other churches in the city, to the
people, the Minster was the most significant, the focus of their daily lives
and their hopes for the next life.
Sigga offered her a bowl of the steaming stew. “Here, ’twill
do you good. ’Tis cool enough to eat now.”
Emma accepted the dish, warming her hands around it as she
sat on a stool. Her strength was spent and the aroma of beef, thyme and coriander
roused her hunger. It was the first food she had eaten all day.
“I can take some broth to Ottar and a bowl of stew for Finna
while you eat,” offered Sigga. “How is the lad?”
Emma had remained by Ottar’s side until the boy roused. “He
is awake but says little. No doubt his head pains him. Mayhap you can take him
some willow bark tea with the broth. I will wait to question him until he is
stronger.” She took a spoonful of the rich meaty stew into her mouth. “’Tis
good, Sigga.”
The servant smiled her thanks as she went about fixing the
tea. “All the boy talked about yesterday was wanting to see Maerleswein and his
men.”
“I suspected it was so,” Emma murmured. “He must have
followed my father to the battle outside the city walls. The lad admires him
so. We will have to keep the twins from the streets. The Norman knights are
everywhere now. I fear they are not done with their vengeance for the slaying
of the noble.”
“Aye, I will watch the children more closely.”
Catching Sigga’s eye, Emma remarked, “I saw the flag of
their king and his army of knights with him.” She shuddered at the memory of so
many mail-clad mounted knights headed toward the city. “More Normans,” she
complained. “Mayhap thousands.”
“Would they were all like the one who brought Ottar home,”
Sigga said thoughtfully. “A handsome one, he was, and kind.”
“They are all Normans, Sigga. I would have none in our city
and none in my home.”
* * *
From the trestle table where he sat with Alain eating the
evening meal, Geoff gazed beyond the crackling hearth fire and the ascending
smoke to where Malet sat at the head table with his wife, Helise, and their two
young sons. The hall was crowded with knights eating a dinner of roasted lamb.
The low rumble of male voices in conversation filled the large space.
Helise’s face, normally serene, was lined with worry. Geoff
did not wonder at her concern, given what must have transpired between William
and her husband. Mayhap Malet would not long hold the position of Sheriff of
Yorkshire.
Alain shifted in his seat, his eyes following the object of
Geoff’s interest. “William appeared none too happy when he took his seat at the
dais and now he glares at Malet between sips of wine.”
Geoff looked at his friend. “You speak uncommonly much this
night.” The knight the Red Wolf had dubbed “the Bear” for his size was known
for speaking in grunts and growls more often than words.
“I speak when I have something to say.”
“Which is not often,” Geoff teased. “But I do not doubt the
truth of your words. ’Tis certain Malet earned a stern rebuke, though being a
friend of the king, I expect it was delivered in private.”
“Likely while we were seeing the injured lad home.”
“Yea, likely so.” Suddenly the vision of the beautiful York
widow ministering to the boy returned to Geoff’s mind. Despite her hostility,
he was anxious about her living alone with only children and servants while the
streets of York swarmed with knights, men-at-arms and mercenaries looking for
trouble, looking for women to ease their battle lust.
Returning his attention to his meal, he stabbed a large
piece of meat and
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