Geoff hesitated, thinking. The sound had been an eerie one, not easily identified. He remembered that rebels hid in this same forest.
“Hold, Mathieu. Let us go together. I would see this for myself.” Geoff ordered the other knights to take their bounty back to the castle, while he, Alain and Mathieu remained. He waited until the sound of thundering of hooves died away, then urged his companions deeper into the woods. “Come, let us see what beast cries from the forest.”
They walked the horses through the underbrush of the dense stands of pine. The wail turned into a long trailing howl as the beast shrieked its suffering.
“There!” shouted Mathieu. “Across that dense hedge, ’tis a wolf caught in a trap.”
Through the thick foliage, Geoff caught a glimpse of fur, a rough, dark gray coat of a large animal. “’Tis no wolf,” he said, “’tis Magnus, Emma’s hound, or one just like it. Looks like his leg is caught in a snare.”
Geoff cautiously walked Athos nearer to where the giant hound was desperately gnawing at the snare around its back leg. Between them was a thick hedge of tangled undergrowth. With every movement of the hound, he imagined the snare tightening, causing the hound more pain as it cut into his leg. Already, blood dripped from where the wire had sliced into its flesh.
“Poor beast,” murmured Mathieu from behind him.
“Aye,” acknowledged Alain. “If we had not found him, the hound might have chewed off his leg trying to escape. Wild animals do, you know.”
“Or the wolves may have taken their revenge,” suggested Geoff, dismounting and slowly walking toward the hedge that was between him and the hound. He would have to crawl through the underbrush. Dropping to his hands and knees, he began to push his shoulders through the hedge. A wave of anxiety flowed over him as the darkness of the thick bushes closed about him. He hated places that were closed in with no light. It reminded him of that time when he was a boy. Refusing to think of it, he closed his eyes and pushed through. Thankfully, after only a short distance, he emerged into light.
Rising, he took off his gloves and tucked them into his belt. The experience in the dense bushes had left him sweating. Aware his companions were watching, he wiped the sweat from his brow and walked to the hound and knelt. He reached out his hand, still uncertain if it was Magnus. The hound’s eyes were wild with fright. If it were Magnus, he hardly looked himself.
From behind him, Alain urged caution. “Best be careful, he may bite. He looks mad with terror.”
“Magnus,” Geoff softly spoke to the hound. “You know me, Magnus. Do not fear. I will free you.”
At his voice, the hound calmed. His dark eyes, looking more like those of Magnus, intelligent and keen, followed Geoff’s every move.
He extended his bare hand to the hound’s nose, letting him sniff. A wet tongue lapped at his fingers, telling Geoff he’d found Emma’s dog. Pleased at the trust shown him, Geoff patted the rough fur on Magnus’ head. “’Tis all right, boy, I will soon have you free.”
“You’ve a way with the creature, sir,” Mathieu said, dismounting. “May I help?”
“First, I must free him and see the damage the snare has wrought.”
Geoff looked at the bloody leg just above the rear paw. He drew his knife from his waist and sliced through the thin wire. Magnus whimpered and when the hound realized he was free, tried to rise, but unsteady on his wounded leg, he fell to the ground with a groan and commenced licking the wound.
Geoff sat and lifted the leg onto his lap. “Let me see, Magnus.” The hound did not resist but moaned. The wound was bad and if not tended, could result in the hound losing the leg, or worse.
Alain circled around the bushes and forced his way through the thick underbrush. He came to Geoff’s side and crouched, handing Geoff a cloth. “Here, take this for the bleeding.”
Geoff wrapped the cloth snugly around the hound’s leg, all the while speaking encouraging words as Magnus watched him with his dark, trusting eyes.
“Mathieu, hold Athos.” With a huff, Geoff lifted the large hound into his arms. “He’s as heavy as his mistress.”
Alain’s mouth twitched up on one side. “Surely that can be no burden.”
Geoff rolled his eyes.
Content now that he had been rescued, the hound lay pliant, resting his large head over Geoff’s shoulder.
“Aye, Magnus, you are among friends,” Geoff said, avoiding another wet kiss from the beast. He followed Alain through the opening the huge knight had found in the thick brush. Walking to Athos, Geoff said, “If Magnus will allow you to hold him, I can mount and then take him.”
At Alain’s nod, Geoff carefully handed Magnus to him. The hound allowed it as if he knew what they were about.
Geoff quickly mounted and accepted the hound across the saddle, settling him onto his lap. “We shall return Magnus to his mistress.” With his free hand, he turned his horse back toward the walled city.
“Emma will be grateful,” observed Mathieu.
“That was my fervent hope,” Geoff mumbled, a grin forming on his face.
* * *
Emma paced in front of the hearth fire, her eyes darting from Magnus’ empty pallet to where her cloak hung on a peg near the door. “I must search for him,” she said to Artur, who stood close by, as worried as she was. “He has never stayed away so long. It will soon be dark. Something must have happened.”
“I can go, Mistress,” Artur bravely offered.
“You cannot ride. And I may have to go a great distance to find him in the forest. ’Tis best I go.”
Making a decision, she grabbed her cloak from the peg near the door. “I cannot say how long I will be gone, for I know not where he hunts. You and Sigga feed the others their supper while I am away.”
“Do you want me to saddle Thyra?”
“Nay,” said Emma, “I can do it.”
Artur shot her a concerned glance that told her he wanted to scold her for going out at this hour, but he did not. He had been with her long enough to know when her mind was made up there was no stopping her.
She unlatched the door and heard the sound of pounding hooves. Stepping out of the door, she saw three knights riding toward her, slowing their horses as they approached. Normans. One had the straw-colored hair of Sir Geoffroi for he wore no helm. Across his lap he carried… Magnus! She nearly cried out with relief. Tears filling her eyes, she ran to meet the three men.
“Magnus! Oh, Sir Geoffroi, you found him!”
Magnus gave out a bark and joy filled her heart. The hound was alive. But the blood-soaked cloth around his leg told her he was hurt.
The one she recognized as Sir Alain dismounted and came around to Sir Geoffroi’s horse to accept Magnus into his arms. Sir Geoffroi swung his leg over his saddle and slid off his horse, reclaiming the hound.
The squire, who had also dismounted, gathered the reins of the three horses.
“I think you know where the stable is at the back of the house,” she told him. He nodded and headed around the house.
“What happened?” she asked Sir Geoffroi as he carried Magnus through the door she held open.
“Caught his leg in a snare.”
“Oh, Magnus,” she murmured softly, reaching out her hand to stroke his head.
Sir Geoffroi asked, “Where do you want him?”
“You can lay him on the pallet next to the hearth where I can see to his injury.”
He and Sir Alain entered and she pointed to the straw-filled pallet near the fire. “Just there.”
Sir Geoffroi laid Magnus on the pallet and she closed the door behind the men as the twins came bounding down the stairs.
“’Tis Sir Geoffroi,” said Finna.
“The one who carried me home?” Ottar asked, his gaze taking in the tall mail-clad men. Emma had explained to the boy that it was Sir Geoffroi who had brought him home from the clearing and that the knight was a most unusual Norman.
“’Tis him,” said Finna. “He is one of the Bastard’s k
nights. He told me so himself.”
Sir Alain covered a cough with his hand.
“Finna!” exclaimed Emma. She had forgotten to tell Finna not to use that name for the Norman king even if it was truth.
Sir Geoffroi chuckled. “Hello, Ottar, Finna.” Pointing to Alain, he said, “This is my friend, Sir Alain. I do not think you met him Finna but he was with me when we brought Ottar home.”
Finna nodded shyly.
“What happened to Magnus?” inquired Ottar as he stared at the blood-soaked bandage on the hound’s leg.
“He caught his leg in a snare,” said Sir Geoffroi. Rubbing his lower back, he remarked, “That beast is no light thing.”
“Yea,” Emma admitted, kneeling next to the dog, “he’s full grown now and large even for an Irish hound.”
Magnus’ tail thumped the ground as his mistress stroked him and the children came to watch.
Emma liked how Sir Geoffroi was with the twins, more tender than she would have expected a hardened knight to be. And he had carried her beloved hound back to her. He might be a Norman but she was now thrice in his debt. How could she be so ungracious as to not welcome him into her home?
“Sit,” she said from where she knelt next to Magnus, gesturing to a bench by the hearth. She sent Sigga, who had come into the room, for some mead. To the knights, she said, “You must stay and share some mead.”
Sir Geoffroi cast a glance at his companion who nodded. “Aye, we will gladly stay.”
Emma shrugged. Normans were in her home again. And for some reason their presence this time did not disturb her. Thank God her father was on his way to Denmark. He would never have accepted the fact there were French knights who did not live to rape and kill.
* * *
Geoff drank deeply of the sweet honey wine Emma’s servant had brought him, warming his body in front of the hearth fire. The French did not prefer the drink but they had served it at Talisand a few times.
Mathieu returned from seeing to the horses and joined them.
The hound looked up at him from where he lay on the pallet with his sad, dark eyes, apparently content with Emma’s attention as she lovingly removed the cloth around his leg and inspected the wound.
Magnus whimpered.
Emma gasped. “The cut is deep.”
The twins leaned over the hound’s leg. “Will he be all right?” Ottar asked.
“It has not cut into the bone,” she assured the lad. “If I can stop the bleeding, and the wound does not fester, he will heal.”
Geoff did not envy the hound the nasty gash but he did envy the attention it was getting from the fair, young widow. Seeing how skillfully she cleaned and dressed the wound, he was reminded of how she had tended Ottar. “You seem to know what you are about.”
Not looking up from where she worked on the dog’s leg, she replied, “I have tended a man’s wounds more than once.”
He was curious to know what man she had tended. The one with the large feet? Or, mayhap her husband. But he did not ask. “Your hound is a strong one,” he remarked, watching her plait catch the light of the fire, turning it golden. The thick braid flowed down the back of her dark blue gown as she bent over her hound. He imagined her flaxen hair coming unraveled as he took her in his arms and kissed her. His body responded, his loins swelling with desire. Shaking off his wandering thoughts, he reminded himself that despite his attraction to her, she was a proud Northumbrian woman. And, at the moment, they were sitting in her home, surrounded by her family.
When Emma finished tending the hound, the twins took her place on either side of the beast, and began stroking its fur. Magnus laid his head in Finna’s lap and closed his eyes.
Emma came to sit beside Geoff, which pleased him greatly. Alain sat on his other side and Mathieu next to Alain. Her eyes fixed on the twins and the hound, she said, “Thank you again for bringing him home. I was not sure I could find him.”
He could not have explained it if asked, but Geoff felt very protective of her even though she was not his to protect, even though she harbored hatred for his king. “I would not have you wandering through the forest in search of the beast. ’Twould not be safe, especially this late in the day.”
She turned her beautiful eyes on him. “I did not want to go, knowing it would soon be dark, but I could not leave him alone thinking he might be hurt.”
“Does he often hunt in the forest?” he asked.
“Yea, more so now that food is needed. He brings home hares nearly every day, proudly dropping them at the door.”
“I will gladly supply you with meat, Emma,” Geoff said. He would supply her with more, were she to ask. But for now, at least he could see that she and her household were well fed.
The servant, Sigga, refilled their goblets.
Mathieu took a drink as Geoff said to him, “Before we leave, take the deer from your horse and give it to the lady’s manservant.”
“Aye, sir, I will.”
After all, Geoff mused, he and his men were doing the hunting for the king. It would not be difficult to see this family had sufficient meat to sustain them. And it would give him an excuse to see her again.
“We are grateful for the deer,” said Emma, “but will your king allow you to feed a York family?”
“My knights and I hunt each day,” he told her. “You can have the deer. We took others my men carried back to the castle. ’Tis not like we are feeding rebels.” Something flickered in her eyes just then, causing him to wonder. Could the man she harbored be a rebel? Could she be one herself? He remembered the knife she would have wielded against Eude. But from what he had seen, there had been no women among the rebels. “The king would not object to my providing meat for women and children as long as I continue to feed his army.”
“Will you and your men stay for the evening meal?” she asked. Then with an amused smile, “We’ve plenty of hares for stew.”
He shot an inquiring glance at Alain and Mathieu. They had expected to eat venison, but the deer they would give Emma would take too long to prepare. He was hungry, as always, and happy to see Alain and Mathieu nodding.
Geoff turned his attention back to Emma. “Aye, and thank you.”
She rose, crossing before him, her enticing curves drawing his attention. A woman of her character and beauty was rare. London had its beautiful women and he had not been unmindful of their charms directed at him. There were available women at Talisand, too, but none were like Emma of York.
“Feigr is still abed with his injuries,” she informed him. “’Tis best he not know I entertain Normans. I will ask his daughter, Inga, to join us, but I must first tell her you and your men were the ones who rescued her father, else the sight of a French knight will make her fearful, as you can imagine.”
“Yea, I can. Are you certain we should stay?” He had no wish to upset the young woman.
“It may not be easy for her, but ’twould be best if she meets you. I have already told her not all Normans are like the one who attacked her.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, my lady.” He remembered their first meeting in the clearing when she had been angry and spiteful. “It gives me encouragement.”
She did not see the smile that came to his lips. Instead, she turned and, without a word, went up the stairs, leaving him to wonder if the missing man whose large shoes he’d seen would also be joining them for the evening meal.
* * *
Emma returned to the hearth room with Inga. Sir Geoffroi knelt beside Magnus with the twins on either side of him. The children listened attentively as he explained where he had found the hound and how he had freed Magnus from the snare. Her heart warmed. Such an unusual knight.
She introduced Inga, who was shy around the men, but walked with Emma to the table. In one corner of the room was a bowl of water set on a small table. Next to it was a clean linen cloth.
“Wash up, children,” said Emma.
Finna obediently stepped to the bowl and washed, then dried her sm
all hands.
Ottar followed. Shooting a glance at Sir Geoffroi who had come to the table, he said, “She makes us take a bath every Saturday, too.”
“Everyone takes a bath on Saturday,” Finna reminded her brother.
When Emma and Inga washed their hands, Sir Geoffroi announced, “We will wash our hands as well, Ottar. ’Tis needed.” He winked at Finna.
“Here,” said Sigga, bringing another bowl from the kitchen, “clean water for you and your men.”
Once the hand washing was complete, they took their seats on the benches that were on either side of the table, the knights and the squire on one side and Emma, Inga and the twins on the other. Candles flickered in the center of the table as Sigga dished out the steaming stew into bowls. Artur poured more mead and brought fresh baked bread and butter, making Emma’s stomach rumble. She watched covertly as everyone in the room crossed themselves to acknowledge their gratitude before the meal, including the Norman knights. Her heart warmed to see their rough manly courtesy.
“I will be glad when I can once again buy food from the market,” remarked Sigga.
Emma nodded her agreement and turned her gaze on Sir Geoffroi, watching him as he spread a generous amount of butter on his bread, licking his lips. He obviously loved to eat. “Venison is a boon we did not anticipate. The deer will keep us in meat for many days.”
“My men took several deer and a boar this day,” said Sir Geoffroi. “’Twill be no hardship to leave one of the deer with you.”
“How long will your king and his army remain in York?” It was the question that had consumed her mind in recent days. She did not doubt it was a question Inga thought of, too. Emma’s father would have wanted to know had he been here. She was glad he was not. How could she introduce the knights to her father, a leader of the rebels?
He set down his bread and took a drink of his mead. His sun-streaked hair glistened in the candlelight. Her gaze shifted to his chiseled jaw that softened when he laughed, which was often. She was so absorbed in watching him, when he spoke he startled her.
“’Tis been a sennight since William arrived in York. Word in the castle is that he will depart soon. The king would be in Winchester by Easter.”
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