“How they move is but the starting point—the basic. What wins the battle is what comes after—the complex.”
Not always, she thought. The complex required to construct that great causeway had taken many weeks. The basic that dismantled it had taken many minutes. But she inclined her head and stole a glance at Sir Guy. And wished she had not, it making her miss him more in anticipation of his departure.
One would think you fond of that enemy, drawled the voice within as she turned away.
“So one would,” murmured the voice that slipped without.
Chapter Twelve
Royal Manor at Brampton
Huntingdon, England
Another causeway.
William and his council having determined it was needed to take Ely, construction had begun on a second one that could end up going the way of the first. Or so Guy believed until his return to Brampton a sennight following his departure when he learned the depth and breadth of the new plan, of which the causeway was but one component.
He had not made the journey alone, De Warenne and Taillebois also commanded to attend. As Guy found it difficult to settle his mind over how the lady fared, he was receptive to the summons. His traveling companions were not.
Whereas daily Taillebois had grumbled over being excluded from the council, and De Warenne had to resent he was needed more on the frontline than around a table debating strategy, what neither man liked was the timing of the summons that arrived on a day of intermittent rain made less tolerable for how chill it fell—as if nearly granted its wish to be snow.
Throughout the ride, Guy had suffered discomfort as well. Each time his water-weighted mantle began to dry with the aid of a vigorous pace that shook moisture from it, more rain fell. But there was good in it, goading them to sooner reach the manor, which they did while the sun yet lit temperamental clouds.
That was two hours past, and though those newly arrived at the manor were better informed about the elaborate plan to take Ely, still Guy remained ignorant of how William’s captive had passed the days since her arrival. Though he hoped any further interactions with the king had not come to a bad end, seeing her moved to a cell, he believed it more possible than not.
“As you see”—William clapped De Warenne on the shoulder—“all is taken into account to ensure what happened does not happen again.”
Providing this plan was executed well, it would give him his victory, but could all the pieces fit together as they must with him determined to attack a fortnight hence? The new causeway had been under construction for several days and good progress made by adding more Fenlanders to the work force, but there were other things that needed building and little room for error.
“My liege,” Taillebois said as those around the table began moving toward the dais for the evening meal. “Do you recall what I put to you weeks past, which you said you would consider under dire circumstances?”
William turned to him. “After all you have been shown, you think these dire circumstances?”
The corners of Ivo’s mouth convulsed. “Your plan is excellent, but surely even the best plan ought to be strengthened when possible.”
“I have God’s favor, Taillebois. For what would I risk offending Him by engaging a witch?”
Feeling the presence of Theta who had introduced Ivo to that unholy woman, Guy tensed.
“Whereas we know her to be only a hag who mutters and mixes herbs and liquids she names potions,” the knave said, “the superstitious Saxons believe her to be more. Do you put her atop one of the towers and give her a purse of coin to curse her own, fewer defenders will oppose us, sooner allowing us to take the isle with less losses on our side.”
Appearing to consider it, the king looked to De Warenne who shrugged, then Guy. “What say you, Chevalier?”
Though he knew this was a sign he was returning to favor, he determined his answer would not straddle a fence in the hope he could hop down on whichever side William chose. “I disagree. I believe time and coin better spent on the warriors who are to take the isle for you.” Ignoring Taillebois’ snap of teeth, he continued, “Too, for the superstitious among our own, having a Saxon witch in their midst could prove a great distraction.”
William nodded slowly. “I shall consult the barons, but Sir Guy makes a good argument.”
Ivo muttered something and strode opposite.
“Now he shall pout the night through and drink more than he ought,” De Warenne said and followed.
Guy had not expected to find himself alone with William. Taking advantage of the rarity, he said, “I am curious about Lady Alvilda.”
Brow furrowing, the king drawled, “She is a curiosity.”
“Has she displeased you?”
“Of course she has—and further each time she declines my invitation to dine in the hall.”
It sounded he tolerated her rejections. If he had issued them twice a day this past sennight, over a dozen times she would have offended. The William he knew would have allowed it once, perhaps twice, then taking it personally, had her dragged to the hall.
Laughter rumbled from William. “You think I am coming unraveled. Be assured, had she refused me out of spite, I would have done what you imagine, but her excuse is valid as confirmed by the woman who tends her.”
Guy frowned. “What excuse?”
“One spoken immodestly, though I am thinking it has run its course.” He laughed again, and Guy knew the content of her excuse before he said, “She suffers her monthly flux, though those are not the words delivered to me. The first time it was only two—I bleed. Every time thereafter, it is three—Still I bleed. However, now enough days have passed to reach the end of her courses, I shall
