She drew a shaky breath. “What I witnessed last eve was amazing. Now allow me to explain about the Norman who aided me, as well as give warning—”
“It is true you were seen. One of our men plucked from among the dead told the same enemy he fought aided you when you survived the fall the witch did not.”
That Norman, she thought. Sir Roul, not Guy.
Hereward grunted. “Doubtless, he but tried to please God knowing he bled out.”
She moistened her lips. “What he did was more than that, and there was another who aided me.” She set a hand on his arm. “I will tell all that happened the night I got lost in the water and was captured, but first we must speak of Theta.”
“Aye, the niece of the witch I refused to enlist lest I anger God.” He spat to the side. “’Twas kind of Le Bâtard to himself anger Him.”
Vilda wanted to defend Herba, but it must wait. “Hereward, Theta—”
“I know what she is. When I learned the usurper intended to use the witch against us, I pondered how he found her, and the best answer seemed that deceitful harlot who I am now certain can swim well.”
Vilda exhaled relief. “What have you done with her? Does she…?”
“Live?” he said sharply. “Would I could say nay, but she is gone. She had to know Le Bâtard’s use of the hag would point to her.”
Not a hag, Vilda thought and hurt for the woman’s sacrifice. “Wicked Theta,” she murmured.
“If ever I get my hands on her, I will not be able to remove them.” He blew breath up his face. “Now your tale, starting with how I lost you in the water. One moment you were there, the next gone as if dragged to the depths.”
“As there is much to that and I am weary, may we sit?”
It took an hour to tell her cousin all he needed to know about her capture by Guy and the protection afforded her, her removal to Brampton, encounter with Sir Roul, the board and mind games played with the conqueror, her accompaniment to the Norman camp, the Herba she came to know in too short a time, and what happened atop the tower and after the two landed near its base.
Throughout, Hereward mostly listened, and when she ended with how Guy secured a boat for her in the belief she would not return to Ely, he stared hard. Not looking for lies, she knew, looking for what she left out. Of course he was, ever able to see what was not visible and hear what was not spoken.
She leaned toward him. “The one I named a Norman pig is a good and honorable man.”
“So good you think yourself in love?”
She eased back. “Unseemly, but I feel for him. Too much, I know.”
“What does he feel for you?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Attraction with some heart, I think, but not in any great measure.”
His eyebrows dipped. “How far did he take this attraction? Did he—?”
“Nay.”
“Then?”
“Only kisses.”
“For his sake, that is good. Otherwise, Sir Guy Torquay might find himself at the church door, my sword at his neck.”
Vilda could not help laughing, though it was a stuttering thing and wet her eyes.
Hereward rose and took her arm. “To the smithy. The sooner you are out of those manacles, the sooner you are abed.”
When they stepped from the inn, beneath the eyes of the curious and suspicious she looked around and up at the window of the room where she would sleep away her fatigue—the same place Lady Nicola had been held and Vilda had tended her.
“Though I am glad to see you,” Hereward said as they crossed the street, “you should have done what you led Sir Guy to believe you would do.”
For this, he had been displeased to see her, she realized. And she was not surprised he wanted her far from here. Though victory over the conquerors was nearer than it had been in a long time, so much could go wrong after all that had gone right.
“Why did you release Sir Deda?” she asked. “You could not have believed Le Bâtard would deliver me to a convent.”
He looked sidelong at her. “Just as the usurper likes his games when the mind grows parched for entertainment, so do I. And I enjoyed treating the only Norman who made it onto the isle—with my aid—as a guest. I showed him all I wished him to see and carry back to his liege, and naught of what I would not have him see.” He chuckled. “He was an excellent guest and scraped low to this outlaw to ensure he remained that and not a prisoner—or dead.”
A moment later, he turned her into the smithy’s shop. “Now let us set you free, V.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Fenlands
Early Autumn, 1071
The messages were sent. The answers received. And all boded well in the world of William the Conqueror.
For the better, Guy told himself. Though what the king had done stank of all things underhanded, what was truly honorable in war? If executed properly—and William was determined not to rush toward defeat a third time—what would transpire this afternoon would save lives and end the resistance on Ely. Great hope for that with Taillebois not only excluded from the war council but considerable attention paid to the advice of those most experienced in battle, including Maxen and Guy.
In the end, it was determined three things must align beyond knowledge of the best crossing to Ely. The first was that Hereward be foraging off isle and distant from the place of ingress near the abbey. Accompanied by a goodly number of rebels, he
