A Warrior's Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Emma steeled herself for what she must say. “There is something I must tell you.” His eyes were the same gray as his daughter’s only more intense. She hoped he would understand. “Inga may not be able to tell you, but because you love her, you must know.”

  “What?”

  “Inga is with child.”

  Feigr’s face froze in shock. Then he expelled an oath and beneath his breath his voice was fierce. “I will kill him!”

  “Mayhap you will one day, but for now you must help Inga. She needs you. And this you must not speak of ever again: Inga sought to take her life.”

  He pulled back, a look of shock on his face. Then his eyes narrowed as his face contorted in anger.

  “I stopped her in time, Feigr, but she needs both of us to see her through this ordeal, to give her courage to bear the child.”

  His anger faded and he slumped. “My poor daughter,” he mourned, shaking his head, his eyes revealing his grief. “What have they done to my Inga?”

  “You must help her, Feigr. You must let her know you stand beside her. The child will be Inga’s, after all. And your grandchild.”

  “’Twill be the Norman’s bastard!”

  Emma vowed silently never to again use that word. “The babe will be an innocent, Feigr. I have told Inga I will help her to raise the child. We will be a family, Inga, Ottar, Finna and the child. You, too, Feigr. The child will know nothing but love, I promise.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes full of unshed tears. “I thank you, my lady. Without you, Inga might be lost to me. Aye, for her sake, it will be as you say. I will let her know she has my love, no matter what comes. But I vow I will kill the Norman scum who did this to her.”

  CHAPTER 9

  It was early in June when Geoff sat in the great hall, breaking his fast, wondering which of the many tasks FitzOsbern had given him he should undertake first. He had wanted to go to Emma since that conversation with Mathieu, but with demands on his time from both Malet and FitzOsbern and the needs of his men, he had been unable to return to her in a sennight. But she was constantly in his thoughts. He longed to hold her, to kiss her. He knew she was well from his conversations with Helise Malet who had told him how pleased she was with Emma’s help with the new castle’s garden.

  Helise, who ate next to him, leaned close and whispered, “I like Emma very much, Sir Geoffroi. She is ever so clever. She knows more than I do about growing things. With her advice, I have chosen well the plants for Gilbert’s garden.”

  Her comments about Emma pleased him and he was delighted to realize Emma had made a friend. “The men will be happy to have the bounty from that garden.”

  “Aye, and the castle’s cook will be pleased. Emma is such an unusual young woman, Sir Geoffroi. Did she lose her husband in the fighting? I dared not ask.”

  He did not know which battle Malet’s wife spoke of, for there had been many since William had come to England. Mayhap she had in mind the battle in York that had taken place the year before. It had not lasted long, but even so, Northumbrians had died before the city surrendered to William. “Nay, she has been a widow longer than that.” In truth, he did not know much of her husband. If he had died at the hands of Norman knights in earlier battles, Geoff would not be the one to remind her, but knowing Emma she would have told him had that been the case.

  It was an hour later when he and Alain had just finished their morning sword practice that shouts echoed through the bailey.

  “Attack! The rebels attack!”

  Geoff wiped the sweat from his bare chest and hurriedly donned his tunic and hauberk, calling for Mathieu, who was already racing to his side.

  “See to our warhorses. We ride with FitzOsbern!”

  The squire bolted for the stables.

  “Another rising?” asked Alain as he, too, hurriedly donned his clothes and mail, preparing for battle.

  “Aye, and not unexpected. With William’s army fighting Harold of Wessex’s sons in the South, we have less than half the men we once did. They would seize the advantage if they could.”

  “Sir Geoffroi!” FitzOsbern pulled his horse up short before the two knights, coming to a stop in a cloud of dust. “Do you ride with me?”

  Between the practice yard and the stables, Geoff saw Mathieu coming with their horses, the helms and shields tied to the saddles. “Aye, we do.”

  Striding to his destrier, Geoff mounted, shoved his helm on his head, took up his shield and let out a huff. Will York never be at peace?

  Moments later, his lance firmly gripped in his right hand, he gave the signal to his waiting men and followed FitzOsbern out the gate.

  Between the castle and Skeldergate, the shield-maker’s street, a large crowd of Northumbrians was already engaged in fighting the first mounted knights to confront them. In such close quarters, the battle was intense, men’s shouts and the clash of metal sounding loud in his ears.

  Geoff entered the fray, piercing one rebel with his lance only to turn and engage another. Soon he turned to his sword, his blade slashing into the unmailed chest of a bearded Northumbrian, cutting a long red swath. Another swing of the steel and he sliced through the skin of the rebel’s bared neck.

  Blood from Geoff’s victim shot into the air. And blood ran in the streets as the brutal fighting continued and both rebels and knights fell.

  The battle was fought in quarters too close for the Norman crossbows to do any good. Bodkin arrows shot from the tower’s arrow loops might as easily hit a Norman as well as a Northumbrian. Geoff fought on, keenly aware this battle would have to be won without such help.

  In a matter of minutes, hundreds of knights from both castles streamed into the fight, hacking at the rebels and backing them to Coppergate where they fled into the city.

  Sensing danger at his back, Geoff turned to see a rebel running toward him with a raised sword. A knife sailed through the air to lodge in the man’s neck, the sickening sound of metal meeting soft flesh echoing in Geoff’s ears. Glancing over his shoulder, he glimpsed Alain on his great gray warhorse, smiling beneath his helm.

  Turning his horse, Geoff tipped his head in thanks to the powerful knight and surveyed the remaining rebel forces still fighting. “’Tis nearly over.”

  “Aye,” agreed Alain as they headed into what remained of the battle.

  Another hour of brutal work gave them the victory, but it had come at a cost. Scores of knights lay dead. Regrettably, some of the slain had been those who rode with him from Talisand, their bodies mingling with those of the slain rebels.

  Geoff thought of Emma and the wedge such a battle would drive between them, particularly if any of her kinsmen had been among the rebels. Would she see his hands as stained by their blood? Would she rise like the Valkyrie he had named her to seek revenge? He needed peace between her people and his for there to be peace between the two of them. He longed to see her, to see if he still found favor in her eyes, but his duties required his presence in the castle.

  * * *

  Emma studied the tapestry she was working on. The gold and yellow threads formed a brilliantly colored background for the black horse in the center. Keeping her hands busy took her mind from the battle that had been fought a sennight ago between the Normans and the men from Durham who had emerged from the woods where they had been waiting for a chance to reengage.

  The fighting, Artur had told her, had not lasted long. FitzOsbern and the mounted knights had quickly beaten back the rebels. The word of the defeat had been carried through the city and the loss keenly felt. The people had hoped for another result.

  Knights had died as well as men from Durham. While the battle raged, she had worried for Sir Geoffroi. She was glad when Mathieu, the faithful messenger, brought her word that he and Sir Alain lived. She was conflicted in her loyalties, wanting Sir Geoffroi to live yet also wanting the Northumbrians to be victorious. It could not be.

  Rising, she walked to the window and pulled back the animal hide covering to stare out. Two of the wo
men who lived on her street waved to her. She waved back. On the surface, the city appeared to be almost normal again. Though she could not see them from her window, she knew the shops and market were open and the people busy at their pursuits. In the fields, churls and villeins once again tended the new crops.

  Yet there remained an undercurrent in York, an unease that hung in the air, as if the city were holding its breath, waiting for worse to come. Emma, of all people, knew well what was coming and, whereas once she would have welcomed her father’s plans for an uprising, now those plans only brought her dread. Someone she loved was bound to be hurt, even killed.

  Should she warn Sir Geoffroi of the plans for a major rising? Of the Danes whose help they sought? Surely to do so would be a betrayal of her father. How could she choose between them? Nay, she could not. She wanted to see York free of the Normans, but she wanted it to happen without bloodshed. An impossible dream.

  Helise had insisted Emma pay her a visit to see the garden they had planted and she was determined not to disappoint Malet’s wife. With the sun high in the sky, she grabbed her light cloak off the peg and headed toward the tower castle where they had agreed to meet in the bailey.

  Magnus loped at her side. It would be the first time she had taken him to the castle but her errand today was not secret so there was no reason to leave him behind. As she traveled down Coppergate, she bid good day to the merchants she knew. Feigr was busy at his forge when she stopped to greet him. Magnus waited patiently by her side.

  “Making new swords?” she inquired. Though that was his primary business, he also made fine knives and an occasional seax.

  “’Tis an axe blade I forge today for one of the men who prefers that weapon. How is Inga?”

  “She fares well. The twins love her, you know.”

  His face took on a wistful look as if he were seeing something far away. “Like her mother she is. Good with children. I am glad she is with you.”

  “Do not worry about her, Feigr.”

  “I am in your debt for the kindness you have shown her.”

  “Inga is my friend. I could not do otherwise.”

  She bid him goodbye but did not mention her destination. He would not have approved. And she did not ask him for whom he forged the new weapon. She did not want to know.

  Quickening her pace, she passed the other shops. Sigga would be at the market and Inga with the twins, but she did not want to be away too long.

  Helise would welcome her, but given the recent hostilities the Normans would be on their guard for anyone from York entering either of the castles.

  She looked forward to seeing Malet’s wife. In the making of the garden, they had forged a friendship. When one put a face on the enemy, shared a meal with them and made friends among their ranks, it was difficult to see the sides clearly after that. So it was with Emma. She no longer hated the Normans as she once had. While she wanted the North free of the French and men like Eude gone forever, she did not wish to be free of Sir Geoffroi’s kind attentions or Helise’s friendship. She had come to see the wisdom in the old archbishop’s words. Further rebellion will only lead to more hardship and death. She might wish it otherwise, but she was practical enough to know further rebellion was inevitable. The Normans had tormented York for too long, reducing it to a city of serfs and their French lords.

  Scattered bloodstains, now dried to nearly black, still appeared in places on the ground near the old castle but the bodies were gone. As before, when Emma was questioned at the gate, she was able to gain entry. There were so few women in the castles, the knights welcomed any who entered, be they servants, whores or the occasional lady. But this time the guard knew her name when she gave it. Helise had told her he would.

  “The sheriff’s wife expects you,” said the burly guard who glared apprehensively at Magnus.

  “The hound will not harm you,” she said, picking up the skirts of her gown and cloak to cross the bailey. Magnus trailed along, his keen eyes darting from one side of the bailey to the other, watchful and protective.

  The sounds of knights sparring rose in her ears causing Emma to glance toward the practice yard. Her heart sped.

  Sir Geoffroi.

  His bare chest glistened with sweat as he deftly wielded his sword, his muscles flexing with the strain as the metal of his blade clashed with that of the huge knight she recognized as Sir Alain. Despite her desire to stay and watch, she paused only briefly in her progress toward the door of the square tower. A woman alone, even an invited one, might face unwanted attention from the men looking on. She fingered the plain, metal brooch at her neck. The day was fair, but in an attempt to ward off the leers of the Norman soldiers, she had worn a cloak.

  She entered the hall and went directly to the sheriff’s chamber and knocked on the door. A servant answered, backing away as she stared at Magnus. “My lady waits for you within,” she said in a shaky voice.

  Helise set aside her stitching and rose to greet her. “You have come at last! And who is this with you?”

  “Magnus. He is gentle; you need not fear him. He only growls at those he perceives to be a threat.”

  Malet’s wife looked at Magnus’ wagging tail. “Well, then, welcome to you both.”

  The servant, unconvinced, waited to one side.

  “I have only a few things I need,” said Helise, bustling about the chamber gathering her cloak and a paper that bore a diagram of sorts. “Then we can be off. Wait until you see our plants, Emma! They are growing.”

  For the first time, Emma noticed the intricate work the older woman had set on the table. “Do you embroider?”

  Helise nodded. “I find it keeps me occupied when my husband is otherwise engaged and the boys are at their lessons. At Holderness, I am often left to my own endeavors.”

  “Where are your sons today?” Emma asked. She had not seen the two lads Ottar’s age when she had entered the hall.

  “Watching the knights at their swordplay, I suspect. They are of an age to want to become squires, but Robert is his father’s heir, so there are expectations for him that will rule that out.”

  Emma’s gaze momentarily fell to her hands. “I was going to bring the twins but since the situation in the city has worsened, I have kept them close to home.”

  “I understand, Emma.” Helise gave her a look of understanding. “My sons know not to leave the castle. ’Tis too dangerous for them to move about freely after the last attack.”

  Helise picked up her cloak and Emma helped her to don it. The Norman woman held herself in a dignified manner but beneath the aura of calm, Emma sensed tension. One of Helise’s hands nervously twisted the folds of her cloak.

  “You must be anxious to leave for Holderness,” Emma said.

  “Aye, I will be glad to quit York. I jump at every loud noise. But we have a happy task to see to today. Come, let me show you the progress in the garden. You will be amazed! And I believe you will like our escort,” she added with a wink.

  Emma understood Helise’s meaning when they reached the knights who waited to escort them to the other side of the River Ouse. Among them was Sir Geoffroi.

  * * *

  Geoff had informed Malet’s wife that he and Alain were available to accompany her and Emma to the new castle on Baille Hill, so he was unsurprised when the summons came.

  He was eager to undertake the task.

  When Emma saw him waiting, her smile lit her face, setting his heart pounding. He had missed her. Worried she might harbor resentment for some friend killed in the recent skirmish, he was pleased to see she was neither sullen nor angry. Her face radiated only joy at his coming.

  Her hound trotted up to him and nuzzled his hand.

  “Magnus, you beast. How are you?” He scratched the hound behind the ears as the dog leaned into him.

  “Shameless begging, Magnus,” Emma chided.

  Helise Malet laughed. “You appear to have won a friend, Sir Geoffroi.”

  He grinned at Emma. “That was my inten
t.”

  Together with a few other knights he had chosen, Geoff and Alain accompanied the two women across the bridge to the opposite bank of the Ouse River where the new castle rose on Baille Hill. The townspeople moved to let them pass but their eyes followed the women closely. On a second glance it seemed to Geoff their gazes followed only Emma.

  Once they passed through the gate of the new castle, he left the knights to wait, taking only Alain and Mathieu with him to follow Emma and Helise to the far side of the bailey where a large area had been set apart and protected by a short fence. The hound walked at Emma’s side.

  Beyond the fence lay the tended earth of a new garden, one large enough to produce sufficient vegetables to add to the food of the knights garrisoned in both castles.

  Helise led Emma through a gate in the fence and pointed to one section of the garden where new plants rose from the soil, green and thriving. “See how well the vegetables do?”

  Geoff stood to one side with Magnus and Alain, watching as Emma placed her hands on her hips and smiled at the garden’s progress. “Those leafy turnip tops and squat radish leaves tell me the garden is doing very well,” remarked Emma. “’Tis thriving, Helise!”

  Geoff looked not at the plants but at Emma. Young and beautiful with her long flaxen plaits hanging down the front of her gown, she was enough to make any man smile. And he wanted to be that man.

  “Over there,” Helise directed, “are the garlic and onion plants. In time there will be cabbages and leeks, too.” Helise consulted her diagram. “Oh, and I should not forget the herbs you suggested, Emma—parsley, sage, chives, dill and marjoram. I agree with that selection. They will please the cook.”

  “The special ones?” asked Emma. “The chamomile, yarrow, hemlock and wormwood?”

  “Those are in that section, over there.” Helise pointed. “I should have forgotten them had you not given me a list.”

  Emma could read, write? Geoff was surprised to learn of it. Only noblewomen could read and few of them.

  “You will need the special herbs to treat the wounds of your knights,” Emma said with a side-glance in Geoff’s direction.