Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (22 page)

What neither acknowledged was that if the Normans found them
no man could save them. But they kept to the belief they were well protected.
Life was easier that way.

As the villein departed, Sigga lit another candle and set it
on the rock ledge to replace the one that had burned to a stub. Although her
mistress’ fever raged, Sigga kept the fur cover ready because when Emma was not
burning up, she was shivering with chills. Remembering the last time, Sigga
shuddered. She could not bear the thought she might lose the mistress she
loved.

* * *

The sound of clashing swords rang through the forest
startling Geoff. A side-glance at Alain told him his fellow knight was equally
bewildered. They were far from the practice yard and, to his knowledge, he and
his men were the only ones dispatched to search out rebels around York.

With a shouted, “Follow me!” Geoff spurred his horse into
the woods toward the direction of the tumult. Alain, the three other knights
and Mathieu followed closely behind.

Geoff emerged from the trees into a snow-dusted clearing.

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 business 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.”