A Warrior's Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  York was not the place of her birth, but with her marriage to Halden, she had made it her home. It was here Finna and Ottar had been born and become like her own children. It was here she had ridden through the meadows on Thyra with Magnus bounding along. And it was here she had first glimpsed the fierce blond knight whose laughter softened her heart as well as his face. But her future did not lie in York.

  She paused at the edge of the stream, swollen with the spring rains. Magnus wandered a short distance away. As she watched the rippling water, in her mind she saw Geoffroi’s face, his blue eyes she had at first thought so stark but now remembered twinkling with laughter. She remembered his kisses, too, and the last time they had made love.

  The fever had disrupted her woman’s bleeding, but she was fairly certain they had made a child that last time nearly three months ago. She was still slim from her illness and the lack of food so there was only the barest hint of a change in her body and she had experienced no urge to vomit as some women did.

  She had told Geoffroi she loved him and it was truer now than it was then for her love had grown in his absence. And now there was more to draw her to him. I want this child as I want him.

  Even if she had to face the uncertainty of crossing the western fells and the thick forests between York and Talisand, she would do so to be with him. He was her heart’s desire, had been since the night he’d first kissed her while saving her from his fellow knights. And if he still lived and had returned to his beloved Talisand, she wanted to be with him.

  But she had to wonder. Had he forgotten her? Were his feelings still the same?

  Aloud she whispered to the crocuses, “Does he still love me? Does he still want me at Talisand?”

  CHAPTER 17

  “Aye, he still loves you, Emma. And, yea, he wants you with him at Talisand.”

  Emma whirled. There before her, stood the knight of her dreams, tall and strong—alive. “Geoffroi!”

  He opened his arms and she ran into them, no matter that Sir Alain and Mathieu stood on either side of him wearing amused smiles.

  “You came!” she exclaimed as he showered her face with kisses. The tears fell, she could not stop them.

  Seeing the huge knight and the squire turn away their faces, she felt her cheeks heat and started to pull from Geoffroi’s arms, but he held her fast.

  “You did not think I would allow you to be persuaded by your father to go to Scotland, did you? Nor would I allow you to cross the mountains and rivers alone. Nay, I shall escort you to Talisand myself. You will come?”

  “Aye, I will come. But we must persuade Inga.”

  “I will leave that to Sir Mathieu.”

  She looked at the squire. “You have become a knight?”

  “Aye,” he beamed.

  “I am not surprised,” she said. “You have acted the knight many times in my presence, risking your own life for others.”

  Just then an impatient Magnus whimpered for Geoffroi’s attention. He reached one hand down to ruffle the fur on the hound’s head while holding on to her with the other.

  “He still seems to think the sun rises with you,” she said with a small laugh.

  “I always thought him an intelligent beast,” he said with an answering chuckle, never taking his eyes from her. He brought his hands to her arms and gently squeezed the slight flesh. “You are too thin.”

  “The north is starving, Geoffroi. We may have little to eat, but at least I am alive.”

  “You are indeed.” His blue eyes sparkled as he drew her close and kissed her. She welcomed his mouth on hers, welcomed his embrace. His kiss was an elixir to heal the wounds of the war, to chase away her fears.

  He pulled his head back to gaze at her face and her eyes caught a movement behind him.

  Over Geoffroi’s shoulder she saw her family and friends coming toward them still some distance away. He turned to follow her gaze, as did the two knights beside him.

  “You know most of them,” she told him, “the twins, Sigga and Artur, Inga and her new babe, my villeins, Jack and Martha, and a family of freemen who have joined us.”

  “All are welcome,” he assured her, drawing her close as they watched the approaching entourage. The burden she had carried for so long lifted.

  To Emma, Geoffroi whispered. “If I can have you by my side, I would open my doors to all the rebels in Northumbria.”

  She brushed his cheek with a kiss and spoke softly into his ear, “You shall have me, sir knight.”

  The twins broke from the group and ran toward them, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Geoffroi. He let go of her to sweep Finna into his arms. She looked over at Mathieu who was now a knight and smiled.

  Ottar leaned into Geoffroi’s side and Magnus ran circles around them and the two knights flanking them.

  With Finna in one arm, Geoffroi wrapped his other arm around Emma. “It seems I have a family.”

  Emma could not resist the smile that spread across her face. “A larger one than you know, sir knight.”

  * * *

  That night, talking around the low burning fire, they agreed to depart for Talisand the next morning. Even Inga had decided to go with them though Emma did not doubt that Sir Mathieu’s comforting presence had something to do with the young woman’s final decision, for the young knight held Merewyn while Inga sat next to him eating her dinner.

  Geoffroi had anticipated their needs and brought food for them as well as two carts to help transport them and their possessions to Talisand.

  Sigga made hare stew and all their bellies were full when the bowls were gathered at the end of the meal.

  Just as they finished, Emma felt a breeze as the fire flickered. She turned to the mouth of the cave where her tall, proud father loomed, a Northumbrian warrior on either side of him, their hands on the hilts of their swords. With his outstretched hand, her father stilled their further movement, as his eyes scanned the occupants of the cave.

  Sir Alain and Sir Mathieu stood and drew their swords.

  “Nay,” said Geoffroi, gesturing them to sit. “Maerleswein, come join us.”

  Emma walked to her father, placing her hands on his shoulders and reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Father, ’twas good you came. After tomorrow, I will be gone and these people will be with me. I would have left you a message, of course.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed on Geoffroi. “Is this the Norman’s doing?”

  “And mine,” she said softly. “I have made my choice, as have the others. We are for Talisand. Come, sit by the fire. Share our mead. We still have a little.”

  He stepped into the cave, signaling his men to wait.

  Sigga brought all three of their visitors a cup of the honey wine. “There is stew if you are hungry.”

  With a look at his men, her father nodded at the servant. “Aye, if you have enough to share, Sigga, we would eat.”

  When her father was seated next to her, eating his stew, she asked, “Will you not come to Talisand, Father, to see me wed?”

  Her father shot a menacing glance at Geoffroi. From the other side of the fire, Geoffroi and his men stared back. “You would accept his offer of marriage when Cospatric has approached me asking for your hand?”

  “Aye, I have accepted him. I love him, Father. He is a good and honorable man.”

  Her father’s gaze bored into Geoffroi as the two warriors did battle with their eyes. Her father must have seen the triumph in Geoffroi’s face for, after a time, he said, “I see.”

  “Will you not come with us?” She tried once more.

  “Nay, I’m for Scotland. The price on my head is too high for me to stay in England. I’ll not be back, Daughter.”

  She leaned her head on his broad shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. There was great affection between them, but her future lay with her Norman knight. “At least stay till morning when I can say a proper goodbye.”

  “Aye, we will stay till first light.”

  Her
father and his two men slept at the mouth of the cave, their horses just outside the opening. She was certain they slept little, listening for wolves.

  In the morning, he and his warriors took their leave, Emma and the twins waved goodbye as the men mounted their horses. Would she ever see him again?

  Geoffroi reached his arm across her back and pulled her close. “He will be all right, Emma. Maerleswein is a survivor. King Malcolm will be glad to have such a man in his court. Mayhap he will even see Steinar, Lady Serena’s brother.”

  “I told Father to ask about him,” Emma said. “Mayhap we will hear of them at Talisand.”

  “Serena will be as anxious for news as you. Scotland is nay so far that messengers do not travel to and from Malcolm’s court.”

  His words brought her comfort. But when her father and his men were out of sight, and the twins ran back into the cave, with a deep sigh, she turned into Geoffroi’s arms and let the tears fall.

  Soon after, they were mounted on the horses and some sat in the carts. In addition to the horses Geoffroi and the two other knights rode, they had brought with them three more. Artur, Jack and Sker rode but the knights led them as they were unused to being on a horse. The women, save for Emma, and the babe Merewyn, rode in the carts.

  It frequently rained as they traveled over the hills and through the dales, leaving the horses to slog through the mud. Once the carts became stuck, slowing their progress until they were freed. The travelers huddled under their cloaks and did not complain, counting themselves fortunate to have survived when so many did not.

  A sennight later they arrived in the Lune River valley. Geoffroi brought them to a halt at the top of a rise.

  “I want you to see Talisand from here, Emma,” he said.

  The rain had stopped and the sun, hanging low in the sky, cast its golden rays onto the demesne before them. Ahead of her, Emma could see a river, curving through the green countryside. Though not as wide as the Ouse, it was still a grand sight.

  In front of the river stood a Norman castle with its square, wooden tower on a motte high above all. Somehow, knowing it was part of Geoffroi’s beloved Talisand, it did not seem so brooding and formidable. Below it was a large bailey surrounded by a palisade fence. From where she sat atop Thyra, she could see into the bailey. There were many buildings.

  Emma could hardly believe all she saw. This will be my home.

  To the north of the palisade fence, cottages in a well-ordered village were strung out along the river. The well-kept daub and wattle structures glowed in the sun’s dying rays. “’Tis as I have dreamed,” she whispered.

  Geoffroi, riding beside her, his hand on the rope towing one of the other horses, watched her expression. “Aye, ’tis special. Did I not tell you?”

  She looked into his eyes. How she loved him. “You did, but I did not imagine it as wondrous as this.”

  “Aye, and ’tis most wondrous for me because you will be here, my love.”

  EPILOGUE

  A few days later, Emma was preparing for her wedding with the help of Lady Serena and Maggie when Finna rushed into the chamber.

  Proudly holding a beautiful garland of wildflowers in her upturned palms, Finna said, “Inga helped me. Do you like it?” Ribbons of crimson, green and blue trailed from the fragrant crown of wildflowers.

  Smiling at Finna, whose face glowed with happiness, Emma accepted the wreath and placed it on her head. “’Tis lovely.”

  The garland settled on her head perfectly. The ribbons cascaded down her back over her long, flaxen hair she wore loose.

  Finna stared up at Emma, the child’s fawn-like brown eyes wide. “You are beautiful, Emma.”

  She bent to kiss Finna. “I am so glad you think so. Thank you for the garland. ’Tis a wonderful gift for my wedding.”

  “I am glad you are marrying Sir Geoffroi,” Finna said, “even if he is one of the Bastard’s knights.”

  “Finna!”

  Serena laughed. “You will not hear me scolding the lass.” The lady of Talisand and Emma had quickly bonded. Each had lost much with the coming of the Conqueror, yet each had gained. They shared their dislike of the Norman king and their love for their Norman knights.

  Maggie pulled tight the laces of the shimmering, blue-green, silk gown Serena had given Emma. She felt honored that Talisand’s lady would bestow upon her such a fine gown since her own gowns had been left in York. She had managed to save her jewelry, some of the pieces gifts from her father, like the gold neck ring she wore today. It was comforting to know in this small way he was with her.

  Finna turned from Emma to go to Alexander, the year-old heir to Talisand, who sat on a fur playing with a carved wooden horse. Next to him lay Magnus as if guarding the young child. “Alexander is always so happy,” said Finna.

  “When he is not in a temper,” said Maggie, helping Emma into her shoes. “The babe is much like his father.”

  Serena smiled at her young son from where she sat on the bed watching him. “He is that. Ren is very proud of Alexander.” Stroking her rounded belly, she said, “I wonder if this next babe will be like him. Alex’s hair is near black. You would never know his mother has fair hair.”

  “Alex will be a handsome man,” said Emma gazing at the babe who entertained Finna with his carved horse. “He has the look of his sire about him.”

  “I would like the next one to be a girl,” announced Serena, “but Maugris says ’twill be another male cub for the Red Wolf.”

  Emma did not have the courage to tell them she was carrying Geoffroi’s child, but when she had told him he was to be a father in the fall, he was pleased. ’Twas fortunate she had been thin when she came to Talisand as her condition was not yet apparent to the others.

  “One thing is surely true,” said Emma to Serena. “Your Alex will have many playmates.”

  “Aye,” said Maggie, standing back to gaze at Emma’s appearance, nodding her approval. “’Tis like a spring crop of lambs, Cassie’s bairn, Rory, with his head of red hair like his mother, Aethel’s little Lora, dark-haired and fair, and Inga’s golden-headed Merewyn. They’ll grow up together with the ones ye two will add to their number.” She cast a glance at Emma and then at her mistress, Serena.

  “The way Sir Niel is making eyes at your friend, Inga,” Serena remarked to Emma, “’twill be another wedding soon.” Emma had been heartened to see the way all at Talisand had embraced her friend, particularly Aethel, Sir Alain’s wife. Geoffroi had noticed Sir Niel staring at Inga and told her he had been knighted four years before as a result of his bravery at the Battle of Hastings. Like Sir Alain, Sir Niel had a scar on his jaw. Emma thought it was a good thing since Inga, too, bore a scar though hers was not visible.

  “’Tis time the young knight takes a wife,” said Maggie, gathering up the things she had brought to the chamber. “But he may have to fight Sir Mathieu fer her. That one is also besotted with the young beauty.”

  “Sir Mathieu is going to marry me!” pronounced Finna, rising to her feet to face the three women. Emma was shocked at the serious tone from her young charge. But the other women laughed.

  “Do not doubt her,” said Emma. “If my gentle Finna has risen to announce such a thing, Mathieu can consider himself well and truly claimed. Remember, she is but eight years younger than he.”

  “Well,” said Serena, “those brown eyes of hers could charm an angel out of his wings. Of course, Mathieu looks at her now as a child, but when she is a woman…”

  “Come,” said Maggie, urging Emma toward the door. “Ye’ll have time to talk about the babes after the weddin’.”

  Emma left the chamber with the lady of Talisand, followed by Finna. Maggie stayed behind to care for baby Alexander. Magnus, too, remained. He had taken on a new role as protector of the young ones.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Geoffroi waited, looking every bit like a nobleman with a dark green woolen tunic, embroidered in silver thread at the shoulders. Around his waist was a black and silver belt wi
th an elegant, matching sheath for his sword. “My lady,” he bowed. “How I have longed to see this day.”

  “And I, sir knight.” She had thought to be calm but now her heart raced as the moment for them to be made one drew near.

  He took her hand and placed it on his arm. Together they walked to the village where they would say their vows at the door of the stone church. The villagers and her friends from York had lined up on either side of their path, greeting them with smiles as they passed. Serena had told Emma that Geoffroi was one of the villagers’ favorites so all had come to share their day. Most were English and happy to see a favored knight had taken a bride from York.

  Behind Emma and Geoffroi walked the Red Wolf and his lady and the other knights and their wives.

  As they strolled toward the church, Geoffroi leaned in to whisper, “I think I began to love you when I first saw you with your great hound. Not every knight can wed a Valkyrie, you know.” At her puzzled look, he added, “That is how I saw you that first day I rode into York. You and Magnus were striding through the crowd. When your plea spared my life, I was certain. Aye, a Valkyrie.”

  The church came into view ahead of them and Emma saw a priest waiting before the chapel door. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she could have said. He was her life now, her future. But what she said was, “’Tisn’t true. I am no Valkyrie. I am merely a woman who deeply loves her knight.”

  As they reached the church door, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, “For the rest of my life, Emma, I will be glad I am that knight.”

  AUTHOR’S BIO - REGAN WALKER

  Regan Walker is an award-winning, bestselling author of Regency, Georgian and Medieval romances. Her stories have won numerous awards.

  Years of serving clients in private practice and several stints in high levels of government have given Regan a love of international travel and a feel for the demands of the “Crown”. Hence her romance novels often involve a demanding sovereign who taps his subjects for special assignments. Each of her novels features real history and real historical figures. And, of course, adventure and love.