Clad in her chemise, she dove off the side into water which she, unlike Theta, could traverse with ease. When she came up, she heard Hereward call to her again. Ignoring him as well as the enemy in the boats distant enough they would only be of danger if they decided to loose arrows on her, she struck out toward where last the woman was seen.
Half a dozen wide-sweeping strokes of the breast was all that was required to reach the spot where bubbles were no longer visible, then she filled her lungs and went under.
Chapter Four
She wearied of vipers, especially highborn ones—women who counted themselves her betters all because their survival did not depend on repeatedly sullying a body men desired.
When Theta had seen the one whose boots creaked the planks dive off the dock, that weariness had tempted her to do what she had only done indirectly, thus far her most notable effort costing Hereward six men whose failed foray had threatened mutiny their leader resolved by beating and tossing the survivors in the river.
Though it surprised the judgmental Alvilda sought to save this one who feigned an inability to tread water, it mattered not the woman had enough conscience to be averse to causing another’s death. If once Alvilda’s breath was nearly depleted Theta could get under her without exposing herself—and it was possible in the murky water—use of the reeds would aid in holding Hereward’s cousin under until life fled.
But they were imaginings only. If Alvilda was too long in surfacing, someone would come in after her, and Theta might not have time to return to her hiding place. Even if she did, the search for Hereward’s cousin could extend to beneath the dock.
As Alvilda came up for air, Theta adjusted her hold on the timber post to which she clung to keep her feet out of sludge beneath the water of the shadowed dock. When the shrew dove again, Theta considered drowning her in sight of William, but though the death of Hereward’s kin would please the king, leaving him in no doubt of this subject’s loyalty, the confrontation would be too distant from the boats to give her time to reach them. What good impressing the conqueror if she drowned at the hands of Hereward or was stuck through with arrows?
Resolved to staying hidden until those who could be said to have murdered her departed, at which time she would swim to the southernmost boat of the blockade that ever delivered her to Ivo, Theta wondered how that high-ranking Norman would receive her.
She was certain he who would be amused by her feigned drowning relished their trysts more than the information fed him. However, now that his king had come—and with him Maxen Pendery who would have no good thing to say about her—no longer would she be able to carry word of what transpired on the isle.
Or could she?
The idea hit with such force she gasped and nearly again out of fear of being heard by Martin whose soles were seen through gaps between planks.
Blessedly, he remained unmoving, surely awaiting the order to retrieve Alvilda.
Continuing to hold to the timber with one hand, with the other pressing down the gown swelling up around her that had once belonged to the wife of her former lord, Pendery—she questioned if she could as easily feign sincere gratitude as she had drowning.
Not as easily, she conceded. But I can do it. Must do it. Will do it. And she who will think me reformed by the baptism of near death will pay for the ill done me. And my beautiful gown.
She smiled. It was time to be rescued, but not here—farther out so better her king appreciated all she would bring to the business of ending the rebellion and think on all she would devote to the pleasures of the bed.
Though Ivo laughed loud enough the sound might have carried to the rebels, his words did not. “She had to have been hiding under the dock. Now see how distant she is from it? Though she is sure to claim a current carried her there, as told, my pretty eel can swim.”
Loosely holding a shield amid men braced with bows drawn to fly arrows should those on the shore release theirs, William stared at the woman where she had popped up nearer than before though she remained too distant to aid. “Still, she looks to be drowning,” he said with amusement.
“A cunning one!” Pride was in Ivo’s voice, which could prove his undoing with one like Theta were he capable of putting any ahead of himself and his ambitions. However, the only thing the Sheriff of Lincolnshire seemed to care for more than himself was drink, and so cruel had he proven since the great battle, Guy believed if he possessed William’s power he would do worse than relieve the enemy of eyes, hands, and feet.
Ivo continued to watch Theta’s floundering as the other woman swam toward her with strong strokes, then chuckled. “Be assured, whatever she has done to earn Hereward’s wrath, she has a plan to save herself.”
And the one who went in after her was part of her plan, Guy thought as he crossed his arms over his chest to watch her progress.
“You think Hereward learned of her betrayal?” the king asked.
A shrug. “As she risks much in delivering to me what is sometimes mouthfuls but more often nibbles—and for which I pay good coin—I knew eventually she would be caught.”
No matter the intimacies they shared, she was but a tool. Though Guy disliked Theta and knew she had shaped herself into a pry bar and whatever else served her—and not out of the desperation of one who can survive no other way—he longed to put a fist in Ivo’s face.
“Who is this Vida?” the king asked, having misheard what Hereward called the woman when
