Danburgh Castle

Published by Catherine E. Chapman at Amazon

Copyright 2012 Catherine E. Chapman

Kindle Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

“How am I to know that your daughter didn’t conspire with her husband to overthrow me?” the Norman lord asked the old man.

“I beg your pardon, sir, she is not my daughter.  I am her grandfather.  Her father died some time ago.  But she is like a child to me and, if you just look at her, sir, you can see she is an honest woman.”  The old man held out his hand, gesturing to the girl, who was held by two of Lord Robert’s men, at the back of the castle courtyard.

“Bring the woman here,” ordered Lord Robert.

The guards walked her forward.  She came willingly, her head bowed.  Her long, chestnut hair, worn loose ordinarily, had been ordered into two long, thick plaits by her mother that morning.

“Raise your head, woman,” Lord Robert told her when she stood before him.

Emma lifted her head and looked into Lord Robert’s eyes.

But his gaze rested on her stomach.  “She is with child,” he said.

“Yes my lord,” the old man confirmed.

“Is it the traitor, Alaric’s child?”

“Of course, Lord Robert.  No granddaughter of mine would bear a child out of wedlock.”

“And you suppose that I will let this woman live to bring the son of a traitor into the world?”

“I have heard you are a just man, Lord Robert,” said the grandfather.  “I do not believe you would put an innocent child –and its innocent mother– to death out of spite.  The traitor Alaric is dead.  I give you my word, Lord Robert, that if you spare his widow and child, they will remain under my roof, and be to the King subjects as loyal as myself and my good daughter, this girl’s mother.”

Lord Robert was silent.

“If you will permit me sir,” continued the old man, “I would ask you to consider how you would feel if your own wife were to be condemned to death, carrying, as she is, your child–”

“You over-step the mark,” the Norman lord cautioned angrily.  “The circumstances of my own lady bear no resemblance to those of this common woman–”

“But they are both soon to have children–” the old man stated, unable to stop himself.

Emma glanced anxiously at her grandfather, fearful that his plain speaking would be her undoing.  For her part, she hardly cared whether she lived or died, so wretched had her life become since the death of Alaric.  But for the sake of the unborn child inside her, she wanted to be pardoned.  She could hardly bring herself to look at Lord Robert, but look she must to know her fate.

Emma raised her eyes to Lord Robert’s face.  He was looking her up and down.  Emma surveyed the powerful man, in whose hands her fate rested, in a confusion of fear and self-consciousness.

Lord Robert lifted his gaze and looked piercingly into Emma’s eyes.  “Very well, old man,” he said quietly, “she shall live.”

Emma fell to the floor, faint.

Chapter 2

Emma’s courtship had been brief and no sooner, it seemed, had she married Alaric than he’d been killed in the uprising against Lord Robert.  Alaric had never told her he was a rebel but, if Emma was honest, she had suspected it from the start.  Nobody
wanted
the Normans here.  Men like her grandfather, weakened by a life of toil and strife against the various invaders to their lands, accepted Norman rule out of fear and a desire for a peaceful existence.  But Alaric, like many of his young friends, had wanted to regain power over his homeland.  Emma couldn’t blame him.  Secretly, she was proud of what he had tried to do – he died a hero, fighting to win back the land from Lord Robert.

In public, of course, Emma went along with her grandfather’s story of her ignorance and naivety.  She referred to her dead husband as a traitor and a fool, and she described herself and her son Oswald as poor victims of Alaric’s folly.

It was only after Alaric’s death in the rebellion that Emma had discovered herself pregnant with his child.  It had been a traumatic pregnancy, her fate uncertain throughout.  She gave birth to Oswald a month after Lord Robert pardoned her at the castle, the birth brought on prematurely by the stress of her trial, her mother believed.  Nobody thought Oswald would survive.  Emma herself came close to death.  But they both lived.  Emma felt her life had been spared to care for her son.  Oswald, like his father, was a fighter.

Shortly after Oswald’s arrival, news was rife in the village that Lord Robert’s wife had died in childbirth at the castle.  The baby had been saved.  Emma’s mother remarked how strange the event was in the light of Grandfather’s words to Lord Robert.  Emma herself felt a strange sense of pity for the Norman lord that she couldn’t quite explain.  His hair was dark and very short, she remembered.  Alaric’s hair had been long, fair and flowing.

Still grieving the loss of Alaric, forced to live back with her mother, grandfather and younger siblings, in the cramped cottage of the family farmstead, Emma’s own future looked bleak.  Having the responsibility of baby Oswald, she saw little prospect of a new suitor.  Nor could she be of any help to her family – she only added to her grandfather’s burden.

When she’d married Alaric, her mother had told her that the joy of their union lessened the blow of the family’s recent loss of Emma’s father.  After Alaric’s death the family had been left in a state of financial peril.  Emma was the eldest of eight children, the youngest still a baby.  Only her stoical grandfather remained optimistic about the future.  Emma suspected his hope was misplaced and felt responsible for everything.

Chapter 3

One morning in autumn, when Emma was beginning to feel strong again and baby Oswald was considered well enough to be taken outside, Emma decided to go foraging for nuts and berries in the woods that belonged to Lord Robert’s estate.  Her mother was nervous about Emma going alone, but Emma insisted, pointing out that it was something she would have done without hesitation before Alaric’s death, and claiming she wanted to contribute to the household in some small way.

Emma left the cottage, carrying the infant Oswald in a sling on her back, and felt immediately happier to be out in the open air with the child.

When they reached the heart of the woods Emma quickly located bushes beside the path through it that were heavy with blackberries.  She stepped into the brambles and began to collect the berries in a basket.

After a few minutes, bending over to pick the fruit that was out of her immediate reach, Emma heard horses approaching.  She turned to see who rode towards her.  One of the faces she spied was unpleasantly familiar.  Had she been able to move more quickly, she would have tried to conceal herself but, stranded as she was in the clump of brambles, she returned to her task, hoping to go unnoticed.

Upon first encountering Emma, Lord Robert’s party merely bade the young peasant girl good day and walked their horses on along the woodland path.

Emma thought she had not been recognised and felt relief.

Moments later, however, Emma heard the horses come to a standstill up ahead.  One rider returned.

Emma glanced up to see whose horse approached her.  As soon as she saw the rider she looked away in dread, feeling her stomach rising inside her.

Lord Robert’s horse came to a halt on the path alongside where Emma stood.  The rider asked her if she belonged to his village and what was her husband’s trade.

Emma nervously explained that she was the widow of Alaric the traitor.  There was no point in trying to conceal her identity from the Norman lord; his power was so absolute.  Emma hung her head in fear of Lord Robert’s reaction to her introduction.  Lord Robert said nothing but Emma sensed his gaze upon her.  Feeling uneasy about Lord Robert’s prolonged silence, Emma raised her eyes to look up at the well-built man on horseback.  She registered that he had been surveying her figure, well-defined in the bodice of a dress that had been made for her long before her maternity.  Emma was aware that the dress was now too small.  She blushed, feeling ashamed of her appearance, but then she immediately felt annoyed – it was only because of Norman oppression that she and her people found themselves in reduced circumstances.

Emma drew herself up and looked Lord Robert straight in the face.

Lord Robert raised his eyes to meet Emma’s and smiled at her.

Emma scowled.

“I remember you,” said Lord Robert.  “The child on your back, is this the same child you were carrying when last we met?”

“Yes my lord,” Emma said, avoiding his gaze once more.

“Tell me, is it a boy or girl?”

Emma hesitated, aware that a lie might protect Oswald but a lie discovered could be fatal.  “A boy, my lord,” she said.

“I too have a boy-child of similar age,” Lord Robert told her.

Emma recalled Lord Robert’s widowed state and felt involuntary guilt that her treatment of him had been hostile.  But he was a Norman – she would give him no words of comfort.

Lord Robert had taken out a purse.  He stooped from his horse and offered Emma a coin of value – enough money to feed her entire family for a month.

“I cannot accept such a gift, my Lord,” Emma said, looking at the coin rather than the bearer.

“It is for your child,” Lord Robert replied, holding the coin in front of her face.

Emma knew that to refuse the token was rude and disrespectful but a sudden remembrance of Alaric prompted her to stand her ground.  “I will not take your money, Lord Robert,” she maintained.

For a moment Lord Robert seemed at a loss.

Emma glanced at him and was pleased to see his face flushed with annoyance and embarrassment at her rebuff.

Lord Robert put the coin back in his purse.  He then lunged from his horse and caressed Emma’s cheek with his hand.

Emma gasped in shock and drew back from Lord Robert but her skirts were caught fast in the brambles – she couldn’t move.  Emma felt Lord Robert’s hand, cool but tender against her warm skin.

“I will keep my money then, woman,” Lord Robert said softly, “and hope that the opportunity will arise for me to do you some service in the future.”

Emma raised her arm, intending to push Lord Robert’s unwanted hand from her cheek.  But she found her own hand only came to rest upon his and, rather than fending it off, she had to fight the instinct to kiss the hated hand, close as it was to her lips.

Emma closed her eyes, so intense was the sensation of Lord Robert’s touch.

The hand was abruptly withdrawn.  “Until we meet again,” Lord Robert said, urging his horse away.

Emma opened her eyes to see the Norman lord retreating.  She felt strangely desolate to be left standing alone amid the brambles.  “I remember you,” she whispered to herself as the noble vision disappeared.

Chapter 4

Barely a week later a man came to the farm cottage and spoke with Emma’s grandfather.  Lord Robert had requested that Emma come to the castle to be nurse to his own boy-child.

Without consulting his granddaughter, the old man agreed, negotiating that Emma would receive, in addition to the board and lodging offered to her in the castle, a sum for her services that was sufficient to keep the rest of the family.