Smoothly, the boats traversed the distance, slowing when the shallows and dense reeds forced them to exchange oars for poles. The warriors who docked greeted their king respectfully, then half were ordered to disembark to make room for William and his party.
Bones creaking from their sedentary watch, the fortunate ones who would enjoy respite from the strain and tedium of searching for rebel movement traversed the dock to the shore.
Guy was not pleased to share the same boat as the two Williams, Taillebois, and the captain of the guard, but he was glad for Maxen’s company though they would have even less privacy in which to tender an apology.
Once the men of the guard were divided between the other vessels, the remainder of the warriors summoned by the boat master reached long poles over the sides to free the hulls of sludge and reeds. It took effort, during which De Warenne ordered the commanders of the boats carrying the guard to flank the king’s as soon as oars could be used.
Guy would have done the same. Though he was not as well-acquainted with William as the other man, he knew enough of the conqueror’s temperament to know he would venture nearer the isle than advised.
“Do you think we will have to use the shields?” Maxen asked low and with derision where he stood near Guy behind the king, De Warenne, and Taillebois.
To counter the lurch of the boat coming free of the shore’s embrace, Guy gripped the side at the same moment as his friend and those ahead. “As we have learned to keep our distance when we are at our most vulnerable,” he said, “shields are rarely required in daylight, nor bows and arrows.” He jutted his chin at a canvas-wrapped bundle beneath a forward bench. “But it is possible they will be of use this day.”
The warriors who had worked the poles having dropped onto benches, they began propelling the craft with oars slotted through side openings. The advance was so smooth that those who remained standing were able to release the sides.
“You have been missed, my friend,” Maxen said as the king, De Warenne, and Taillebois talked among themselves.
“As have you,” Guy said, then smiled apologetically. “You would not know it from my reception, eh?”
“I knew to expect you here, Guy. Regrettably, you did not expect me.” Maxen lowered his voice further. “As neither did I before William rode on Etcheverry and ordered me and a score of my warriors to accompany him.”
Doubtless, none of the fighting men chosen by Maxen were Saxons though he had their fealty. The king expected the English who accepted his rule to fight alongside Normans against resistant Saxons, but the Baron of Etcheverry would not ask that of them.
“I pray you will forgive me,” Guy said.
“I would were it necessary, my friend. It is not.”
There was more to be said, but it could wait. When the rowers slowed to bring their boats in line with others of the blockade that, as much as possible, ringed the isle, William commanded, “Nearer!”
The warriors manning the boats resumed their pace and soon all three glided past the blockade.
Though no one spoke for a time, the tension of Normans long in the Fens increased the nearer they drew to the isle. It was Ivo who first voiced concern. “As soon as heads appear above those crude barriers on the shore, we are in arrow range, my liege. Then we will have to raise our shields.”
William turned his face from the northern reaches of the isle to the southern. “I see few fortifications there.”
“They keep watch over that stretch,” said De Warenne, “but the approach is so treacherous—a great mire responsible for many of our early losses—it requires little defense other than that formed by God.”
The king jutted his chin. “Go that direction.”
“Your Majesty!” Taillebois exclaimed. “Water that appears deep there and other places around the isle is deception, the mud beneath the clouded surface so wet it is likelier to suck down a pole than give aid in pushing off. And if the crew is not swallowed with the boat, those heathens will put finish to any who do not know this godforsaken land.”
William seemed to consider the warning, then suddenly leaned forward, that which had captured Guy’s regard capturing his—riders heading single-file toward the shore. “South,” he said firmly.
“My king!” De Warenne exclaimed. “Truly, those waters—”
His liege clapped him on the shoulder. “I have courage enough to share with you,” he said, then shouted, “South!”
“Tell me when I ought to take up shield and bow,” Maxen murmured, the warrior rising in eyes that surveyed the shoreline.
“Providing we draw no nearer the northern fortifications and there has been no great shift of the river bed to ground us ere we catch sight of the muddy ridges, we are mostly safe,” Guy said. “However, do we venture too near the dock to which the riders progress, much peril.”
There were no further protests on the king’s boat, and though some were heard from oarsmen on the flanking crafts, the guards rebuked the naysayers though they must also be concerned. Hardened warriors might resist expressing unease, but they were attuned to that of fellow men of the sword.
Vigilantly, the oarsmen kept the vessels running parallel to the isle and out of range of rebels who surely waited with nocked arrows, and maintained that distance once they were beyond the fortifications behind which the resistance hunkered.
The riders had reached the dock but remained astride, watching the boats distant from those of the blockade. Though it appeared none brought bows to hand should the enemy draw near
