A Warrior's Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  A scream rent the air. A child’s scream.

  Drawing rein, he quickly slipped from his horse and stepped into the bleak space of winter-shrouded ground. Patches of snow lingered in the shadows under the surrounding trees. In front of him lay the bodies of two men, bloody upon the ground, Northumbrian rebels by their beards and weapons. He caught a sudden movement and jerked his head to one side. Two Norman knights stood, their swords drawn and dripping blood.

  Clutched in the hand of one was a tearful, squirming Ottar. Shaking the boy, the knight pressed his sword to Ottar’s neck. The other Norman had a horrified Artur pinned to the ground with a sword pointed at his heart.

  “Hold!” Geoff demanded, drawing his sword, his eyes narrowing on the knights.

  At his side he heard Alain yank his sword from its scabbard. Behind them the sliding steel of other knights rang in the clearing.

  The two Normans paused. They would not have expected their fellow knights to draw swords on them, but Geoff was not in the mood to explain.

  “What goes here?” Geoff roared as he stomped toward them.

  Ottar whimpered, his young body hanging limp beneath the knight’s grasp. The boy’s eyes darted to Geoff and in them he saw recognition.

  “Let the boy and his servant go!” Geoff commanded.

  The Norman looked down at Ottar and moved the sword back from his neck but did not release him. “Why should I not kill this rebel spawn when the king has ordered all their deaths?”

  The voice of the knight was familiar to Geoff, but since the knight wore a helm, Geoff could not be certain. “Who are you?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  With his sword poised once again above Ottar’s throat, the Norman said, “Sir Eude—not that my name is any concern of yours.”

  Eude. Geoff had never liked the knight who had raped Inga and now he threatened the boy Emma loved. His thoughts scattered. If Ottar was here, Emma must be near. But how had Eude come to be here? The day of the Danes’ attack no Norman had been spared, save for those taken prisoner. And Eude was not one of them.

  Before he could pursue his questions, Eude asked, “Which of William’s knights are you?”

  “Geoffroi de Tournai.”

  Eude fell silent, as if pondering the name. “Ah, Sir Geoffroi. I recall you.”

  “How did you survive the Danes’ slaughter, Eude?”

  “The rebels are not the only ones who can hide in the woods. Murdac and I escaped into the forest and have only just rejoined William’s army.”

  “Then you and your friend are cowards, Eude. For none ran, save you.” Geoff had fought men like this one before, braggarts who were sure of their ability against a lesser foe. A Northumbrian rebel, ill-trained and ill-equipped, he might easily defeat. But a Dane’s powerful arm, wielding a deadly axe with skill, Eude would not have wanted to face. Only a coward would prey on a defenseless girl like Inga.

  “Yet you live,” said Eude, his tone sarcastic.

  “I was prepared to die but instead I was taken prisoner. My men and I did not run from the field. You are worse than a coward, Eude, for you defile innocents. Did you know that one of York’s maidens now carries your bastard?”

  “I care not how many bastards I drop in England. ’Tis the way of the conquered to submit. I doubt she is the only one. As I recall, you had your own York wench, one you refused to share.”

  “I would not take a woman against her will,” said Geoff. He felt a twinge of regret for the show he had put on that night, but he had done it to spare Emma the lust of the others. “You are unworthy to be a knight.”

  Eude sneered. “Stand aside while we dispatch these rebels.”

  Geoff held his stance, his drawn sword speaking loudly. “Nay you will not slay them and I will not stand aside.” Anger welled in his chest. This knight had brought much dishonor on the king. Mayhap such a one had even spurred the people of York to rebel. It was going to give Geoff great satisfaction to finally deal with Eude.

  “You would defend our enemies?” Eude asked, incredulous.

  “They are not my enemies. They are innocents.”

  Even with his helm hiding half his face, Geoff saw Eude’s scowl. “Then you have turned traitor,” he spit out.

  Geoff raised his chin, his shoulders squared. “I adhere to the code to which I was sworn—to protect the innocent—while you would defile and slay them. For that, you will meet my sword.”

  Eude and his friend, Murdac, turned from their intended victims.

  “Run to Mathieu, Ottar!” Geoff shouted, his eyes fixed on Eude. Out of the corner of his eye, Geoff was relieved to see the boy and the servant circling around behind him.

  Eude’s eyes darted to the knights with drawn swords behind him and then to Alain at his side. “I would accept your challenge, but there are six of you and only two of us.”

  Geoff looked over his shoulder. “Sheathe your blades,” he ordered Mathieu and the knights. “This is a matter of honor for Alain and me to handle.”

  Four swords slid back into their sheaths. Tension hung thick in the air as Geoff returned his gaze to Eude and silence descended. Not a bird or forest creature stirred as Geoff slowly advanced.

  “For Inga and the innocents!” he cried and swung his blade, striking Eude’s raised sword in a bone-shattering clash of metal.

  Eude lumbered away then lunged.

  Geoff deflected the long blade, so like his own. The clash of metal against metal filled the air as each sought mastery over the other.

  To his right, Alain grunted as his sword met Murdac’s blade in a rapid exchange.

  Minutes passed as the four swords vied for control in the clash of well-trained knights. But this was no swordplay; this was a fight to the death. One Geoff welcomed to avenge the innocents in York.

  Eude was tiring, his swings slowing, becoming less precise. Geoff backed up, feigning his own fatigue, luring Eude into the trap his mind had been conceiving as he’d made note of Eude’s weaknesses.

  In his arrogance, Eude lunged again but his swing was too wide, leaving his midsection vulnerable.

  Geoff swung the broad side of his sword into Eude’s ribs.

  With a groan, Eude stumbled to the side. At that moment, Geoff eyed Eude’s unprotected neck and swung. Blood spurted from Eude’s neck and his eyes went wide as he fell to his knees and then to his face, his blood turning the snow-dusted ground crimson.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Geoff wiped his blade on Eude’s back. It was over.

  A side-glance at Alain revealed the huge knight standing over the body of Murdac. “Seems to me you toyed overlong with the refuse.”

  Geoff chuckled at Alain’s humor. “At least the job is done.”

  Ottar ran to Geoff and he embraced the boy. “You are safe now.”

  “You were magnificent!” Ottar said, looking up at Geoff in wonder.

  “Nay, Ottar. ’Tis a knight’s duty I did, nothing more.”

  “Someday I will be a knight,” he proudly proclaimed.

  The boy was older than Geoff when he had become a page. He would not discourage him. “Aye, someday you will. Be an honorable one. Not like these.” Geoff had crossed a line in killing William’s knights. He could argue he had done so to save the boy, yet he knew it was more. He resented corrupt knights like Eude who betrayed their oath, making the king’s mission more difficult by raising the ire of the people.

  Over Ottar’s head, Geoff saw the other knights and Mathieu approaching, their swords now sheathed. Artur stood close by, waiting.

  Without being asked, Mathieu collected the dead knights’ swords and helms. “We can add them to the armory.”

  “I would have done the same, Sir Geoffroi,” said one of the knights who had ridden with him that day. “There have been too many innocents killed.”

  “I agree,” said another. “I will say nothing of this encounter.”

  Grateful for their support, Geoff dismissed the three other knights to return to the castle. “The day’s busin
ess is done. I will join you later.”

  Since he had entered the clearing and seen Ottar and the servant, Geoff had known the slain Northumbrian rebels must have been guarding Emma’s family. He looked into Ottar’s dark eyes and asked the question that had been screaming in his mind. “Where is Emma?”

  Ottar’s expression grew sullen. “She is in the cave, sick.”

  The word “cave” immediately caused Geoff’s heart to speed. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he remembered a rocky hillside and a chamber so black it inhaled light. Where the only sounds were those of dripping water and animals scurrying in the dark. Where as a boy Ottar’s age his brothers had left him for three days until he was starving and nearly out of his mind.

  As he stood there, frozen with the image of the cave in his mind, Artur spoke beside him. “Sir Geoffroi, we owe you our lives.”

  “Artur,” Geoff managed to say with difficulty, “… your mistress?”

  “Emma is unwell. She burns with fever. The lad and I were gathering herbs for Sigga to make potions for her.” He gestured to a small sack lying at the edge of the clearing.

  Emma so close. “Is the cave far?”

  “Nay,” said Artur.

  “Show me,” said Geoff and followed when Ottar ran ahead.

  Artur picked up the sack and joined him as they took off through the woods. At Geoff’s signal, Alain and Mathieu followed with the horses.

  Minutes later they arrived at a brush-covered hillside of gray rock.

  Ottar stopped, out of breath, and pointed toward the face of the cliff. “’Tis just there.”

  Geoff blinked, his eyes searching the rock, but he could see no opening.

  The boy took off running. As Geoff and Artur neared the cliff, Ottar disappeared behind a large clump of bushes. Geoff followed with Artur. On the other side of the bushes was a wide entrance to a cave.

  A gaping invitation to Hell.

  Geoff came to a sudden halt and stared at the large opening in the rock. His mind raced back to when he’d been trapped in a cave much like this one. Frightened out of his mind, he had not entered another since the day his older brothers had returned and freed him, calling him a coward when they saw his tears.

  You will have to face the fear you have carried from your youth, the one you keep hidden even from the Red Wolf. Maugris had seen this day in his visions.

  Not even the sight of a man’s chest spurting blood could cause him to vomit, as he wanted to now. He fought the overwhelming urge to turn and run. Inside this cave was the woman he loved, sick with a fever that for all he knew could take her life. He took a step toward the darkness, feeling his gorge rise. Then another.

  Artur looked intently at him. “Are you also unwell?”

  Geoff swallowed. “Nay.” He forced himself to face the entrance of the cave, imagining Emma within. “Lead on.” He was about to follow the servant when Alain drew close.

  “’Tis best you and Mathieu wait outside.”

  Alain nodded and Geoff followed Artur.

  Inside the cave, Finna sat by a fire, clutching something to her chest. Smoke ascended to the roof of the cave. He forced himself to calm. The chamber was large, the roof high. And there was light. “Finna,” he said, trying to keep his eyes on the girl and not the dark walls around him.

  “Sir Geoffroi!” She leaped up to run to him. When she would have hugged him, he put out a hand, stopping her. “Best to wait until I can clean the blood from my mail.”

  “You look like you did the first time I saw you,” she said.

  “Aye, but not for long. Where is Emma?”

  Finna pointed to the back of the cave. “In the chamber where Sigga sits with her. Magnus, too.”

  Artur handed him a cloth. “Here, this will help until you can do more.”

  Geoff thanked him and wiped the blood from his mail.

  A man and woman Geoff did not recognize emerged from the back of the cave. The woman gasped when she saw his bloodstained hauberk. Before he could speak, Artur said, “He is a friend, Martha. He and his fellow knight just saved our lives, defending us against Normans who killed the guards.” Turning to Geoff, he explained, “These are Emma’s villeins, Jack and Martha. They came with us when we fled.”

  It was obvious from the woman’s doubtful expression Martha was reluctant to consider any Norman a friend. He did not think ill of her for such a view given the circumstances.

  The villein, Martha, spoke to Emma’s servant, Artur. “Inga has begun her lyin’ in; already she cries in pain. She has confessed her sins. I came to fetch salve fer her belly.” She stooped to pick up a clay jar and retreated into the depths of the cave.

  Geoff kept his eyes on the fire, avoiding the brooding rock walls that surrounded him. “Show me where Emma is.”

  Ottar picked up a candle and handed it to him. “Finna and I are not allowed to go into Emma’s chamber. Sigga is worried we might get sick, too.”

  “I can show you where she lies,” said Artur.

  The man named Jack kept his eyes on Geoff as he followed Artur. The servant clutched his sack of herbs in one hand and a candle in the other.

  They walked deeper into the cave, over the uneven ground, past smaller chambers carved by nature into the rock. The ceilings were lower here and the space to walk narrowed as they went on. Shadows cast by their candles created ominous images on the cave walls. Geoff forced himself to inhale a deep breath and let it out. He had to do this for Emma.

  From one chamber they passed, he heard a woman moan. “’Tis Inga?”

  “Aye,” murmured Artur. “The babe comes.”

  “I wonder if it would please her to know Eude is dead.” Geoff spoke his question aloud.

  “I cannot say, but I think she wants the child. I believe the mistress has finally convinced Inga we will be family for both her and the child. ’Twould be hard not to love a babe that is Inga’s.”

  Geoff kept his eye on his candle as they continued on. Finally, the servant turned into a chamber. Candles lit the small space not more than eight feet in length. Sigga knelt beside a pallet, wiping Emma’s reddened face with a cloth.

  On the far side of the pallet lay Magnus, his head on the edge of the pallet, his dark eyes looking forlorn. When Geoff entered, the hound raised his head but did not leave Emma’s side.

  Setting his candle on a ledge, Geoff dropped to his knees beside the pallet. Emma’s eyes were closed and she tossed her head in her fevered sleep.

  Sigga moved the cloth away as he reached out to touch Emma’s forehead. The reddened skin burned under his palm. “Emma?”

  “She will not wake, Sir Geoffroi,” advised Sigga. “But in her dreams she has called for you.”

  He wrapped his fingers around Emma’s frail hand. She was thin and there were dark shadows under her eyes. He brushed the stray tendrils of damp, flaxen hair from her forehead. His heart ached for love of her, for fear he would lose her. He longed to tell her he understood what she had done, that he still loved her.

  “She carried so much of the burden for us,” said Sigga. “She wore herself down.” Guilt shadowed the servant’s face. He could tell by Sigga’s grief-ridden expression she did not believe Emma would live.

  “How long?”

  Worry creased the servant’s brow as she gazed at her mistress. “’Tis the fourth day since the sickness came upon her. At first she could hold nothing down. Then came the chills and the fever. For the last day she has not been in her right mind. She grows ever weaker.”

  From behind him, Artur said, “Sigga, I brought the herbs you asked for.”

  Sigga stood. “Will you sit with her, Sir Geoffroi? I must prepare a tea for the fever.”

  He nodded. “Has she eaten?”

  “Nay, but in the first days, in the times she was near awake, I was able to get her to take a bit of broth.”

  Sigga glanced at his mail still bearing some bloodstains, then raised a brow at her husband.

  “Sir Geoffroi and his fellow knight save
d us from two Normans who killed the guards and would have killed us.”

  “Oh, no,” Sigga said, raising her hand to cover her mouth.

  Her husband put his arm over her shoulder. “’Tis all right now, Sigga, but ’twould distress Emma to know her father’s trusted men were killed.”

  “There should be no more knights wandering in the woods,” Geoff assured her, “but still, you must show caution when leaving the cave. There will be hunting parties from time to time.”

  After Sigga had gone, Artur explained, “We have kept Emma separated from Inga and the twins. We were afraid her fever might spread.”

  “Aye, you did well, but Emma should not be in this cold, dark cave. I will take her to her home. It has already been searched and will be safe, at least for a time.”

  “My wife might not like it, but if Emma’s home still stands and you think it safe, I agree. We cannot care for her here as well as you could there.”

  Geoff had been fighting the urge to flee the cave since he’d first entered it. For Emma’s sake he had not. “As soon as Sigga has prepared the tea, I will leave with Emma.”

  “You will guard her from your fellow knights?”

  “Aye, with my life.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Even before she opened her eyes, Emma knew she was no longer in the cave. The scent of herbed rushes and the occasional sound of a coal shifting in the brazier spoke of another place. Home.

  The effort it took to open her eyes told her she was still weak. The room was dimly lit but the face looming over her had familiar blue eyes and an anxious expression. “Geoffroi.”

  His face softened into a smile. “Yea, ’tis I. And you are finally awake.” He let out a breath. “I believe the fever has gone.”

  “But how—”

  His warm hand wrapped around hers. “I found your hiding place in the cave. Actually, Ottar led me to it. When I saw you were sick, I brought you here. I have no fondness for caves and the cold was doing you no good.”

  “The others?”

  “They remain in the cave. I could not bring so many without attracting unwanted attention and Inga was just giving birth.”