“Men come,” he rasped, face so near their noses brushed. “Be still and pray moonlight does not burn away the clouds.”
She nodded, but he did not remove his hand. It offended until she realized that though she had been given opportunities to learn to trust him, he had been given none to learn to trust her. If those who came were Norman, he would not reveal her, but were they Saxon, he could not be certain she would not reveal him.
Belatedly hearing the rustle of tall grass and footsteps over moist earth, she looked to the side. Seeing the clouds had thickened as if gathering rain to douse the fires, she prayed they would hold against the moon so she and Guy could safely return to their own.
The footsteps neared, and she was fairly certain not only were they of three men but rebels since she heard no shifting of mail that was usually eschewed when striking at Normans to more easily steal upon them. Unless Guy’s fellow countrymen had shed their armor the same as he had…
When they were fifty feet distant, his hand tightened over her mouth and movement on her opposite side drew her gaze to his other hand. Somewhere between hearing those who approached and rolling atop her, he had drawn his dagger. She did not doubt between thrusting upright and assuming a fighting stance, he could as easily bring his sword to hand, but being unarmored and seeking to protect her, would he prevail against three?
Lord, whether Saxon or Norman, turn them aside, she silently beseeched.
“As he wore no armor, likely he is one of us,” said a man whose voice was familiar for the sound of rocks rattling about his throat.
Now nearer by ten feet, here was one who called himself Gilbert the Great in mockery of the usurper.
“Likely, but if he is the enemy,” said another Saxon, “he heads toward the boats.”
It did not surprise boats had been used to quickly transport great numbers of rebels across the river, likely both east and west and far enough from the Norman camp to allow them to slip past blockades. Though Vilda had guessed they would be moored distant from the underwater causeway, she would not have sought them lest those who kept watch believe her a traitor. It was into Hereward’s hands she must give herself, and from her mouth he would learn of Theta’s deception.
“Be still!” growled the third man, and their boots went silent much too near the Norman and Saxon who would be sighted if the moon had its way.
Barely breathing through her nose above Guy’s hand, Vilda moved her gaze to his face. The shadow between them too deep to see his features, she could only feel his eyes on her, and that made her more aware of the press of a body whose muscles remained taut in readiness to transform him into a blade-wielding warrior.
“I hear naught,” Gilbert rumbled.
When the other two murmured agreement, they continued east.
Guy remained unmoving, and though her breathing was strained, she thought she could stay thus a while longer.
“Now it seems I must trust you,” he said low and lifted his hand from her mouth.
Her deep breath causing her chest to expand against his, on the exhale she said, “You can trust me.”
Then he was off her, denying her his warmth and surely less warm himself for garments having absorbed the damp of hers. “We follow them,” he said as she sat up.
Vilda gasped. “Why?”
“I shall secure one of the boats, and you will take it upriver far from Ely.”
Though alarmed by what he would risk in doing so, whether he suffered capture, injury, or death, she knew it was futile to protest. Thus, she said, “I cannot leave the isle. ’Tis the only home left to me.”
“I know it does not seem it this night, Vilda, but the resistance will topple. Until William gets what William wants, over and again he will return, and when he succeeds, your people will pay much for every one of his failed attempts.”
His warning was the same as Herba’s and Sir Roul’s, as if all three had conspired to render her very alone in the world.
She moistened her lips. “Hereward must be told about Theta. If she—” Struck by what was possible though she believed Guy’s concern for her was genuine, she caught back her words.
And he let her. “You must leave the Fens,” he pressed.
So she not alert the resistance to the traitor in their midst? But if she did not, she would betray as well, and should Theta prove the resistance’s downfall, Vilda would bear responsibility for doing nothing when she could have done something.
“Do you hear me?” Guy said sharply.
She longed to ask if more he cared for her well-being or that of his people, but she knew the answer. Hurtful though it was, she should not begrudge him doing what was best for the men under his command, which was to end the stand on Ely.
“I hear you,” she whispered and hoped he took it as agreement she would abandon her cousin and his men.
“Good, now we must silence the chain.” Swift in applying his dagger to the hem of his tunic and in threading the severed length through the iron loops between the manacles, he was not long in rising and reaching to her.
Determined not to dwell on the fingers pressed to the heart of her palm, Vilda marveled over the ease with which he raised her. But it also disturbed. Thus, it was good he loosed her and distraction was provided by keeping pace with him as cautiously he followed the rebels who believed they followed him.
Again, seconds passed like minutes—until Guy said it was time. Then every second they had to reach the nearest of a dozen boats before the
