The second thing that must align was for the guides promised William to slip off the isle as soon as it was learned the resistance leader had departed and lead the Norman army through some of the most treacherous Fens that offered little support for man or beast attempting to negotiate it. That the holy men had done, then scurried for cover knowing once the Normans were spotted on this shore, the defenders behind their fortifications would stir to life and send word for reinforcements.
The third thing that must align now aligned. Though this crossing also required a bridge, this one was half the length of the longest of the others, as was its width, there being no need for great stability with much of it underpinned by a natural, unseen causeway. And so quickly were the sections put in the water and joined that reinforcements on that shore had only begun to arrive when De Warenne’s foot soldiers going ahead of Maxen’s cavalry with shields raised began the crossing.
Grateful Vilda was long gone from Ely, Guy silently prayed, Almighty, let it be done this day with as few deaths as possible.
“The day is ours, my lord,” said Jacques at his side.
Guy felt the young man’s excitement that was not in line with those of the elite force who were to come behind the frontline to aid in gaining the high ground of Ely. This being no play of wooden soldiers whose toppling could be corrected with a pinch of fingers, Jacques’ enthusiasm needed tempering.
“The day is not ours until it is firmly in hand,” Guy said. “Believe otherwise and it may be no injury you sustain but death.”
As Jacques turned his face away, likely to hide a scowl, William bellowed, “Onward!”
The trumpet sounded for those out of range of hearing, then the warriors on the causeway surged forward with much faith in the men manning the boat ahead who would unfurl the last section when there was little chance of the defenders wreaking destruction on it—and much hope for the plunder promised once they took the isle.
Unsurprisingly, arrows began flying and sticking in the shields of those who did not falter in their advance, even when some missiles slipped through vulnerable places and sent Normans into the water or beneath the feet of their countrymen.
“Engines!” William commanded, and the trumpet blasted again, these notes instructing those piloting siege boats to deliver them here. And they would be needed to bombard the bulwarks behind which more defenders gathered.
By Guy’s estimation, three score now reinforced what had likely been a dozen, and more were coming through the trees and foliage bearing weapons—swords, daggers, hammers, scythes, slings, bows. Whether the weapon was real or makeshift, every one was deadly in the right hands.
“It is she!” Jacques exclaimed and Guy swung his gaze to dark red and green amid an abundance of russet and tan.
So it was. Mantle flying back off her shoulders, no gown beneath the red tunic, Vilda wore chausses and tall boots, and her long hair was confined to braids that swung wildly as she ran to the central bulwark—a bow in one hand, arrows in the other, on her belt a scabbarded dagger and what he guessed a sling and pouch of rocks.
Again, she had lied. Though he could not recall her exact words and thought it likely a lie of omission, so greatly it angered he imagined putting a fist in Hereward’s face for not sending her away. Once more Vilda might escape death, but if this third seige went as it seemed it must, she would be William’s captive again. And what would he do with her?
“God’s rood,” he rasped.
“I cannot like her, my lord,” Jacques said, “but now more I understand why so many Normans take Saxon wives. I thought our women formidable, but those like Lady Alvilda… No beauty, but woman enough.”
There being grudging admiration in his words, Guy could not rebuke him. Too, he had other matters to think on, foremost that of keeping his men alive.
God be with you, Vilda, he silently sent across the water to where she had gone from sight behind a fortification. This day, you and yours have greater need of His mercy than I and mine.
Further evidence of that was had when immense, flat-bottomed boats riding low beneath the weight of siege engines appeared far left and right as those traversing the causeway neared the river’s bank beneath a barrage of arrows and stones.
Lord, help them all, Guy sent heavenward and urged his horse forward to position his men to make the crossing behind those under Maxen’s command.
Just as she had seen him, he might have seen her. But she could not think on him now—not with the stench of betrayal all around that saw the most passable underwater causeway put to use by the enemy. And in Hereward’s absence.
Having exercised greater caution since Theta’s betrayal weeks past and questioning of his leadership by Earl Morcar, Bishop Aethelwine, and Abbot Thurstan, her cousin had held close the real reason he departed Ely with a great number of men this morn.
Under the pretense of foraging, he journeyed near Peterborough to meet with over a hundred warriors who, having learned of his successes against Le Bâtard, had sent word they would join him. If he determined all was as told, he would escort them to Ely to strengthen the resistance and be better prepared for the next assault. However, he was not prepared for what came this day—and neither were those left behind who flocked here. Surprisingly, Earl Morcar and his men had yet to appear, but something told her they would not.
Vilda breathed deep, shot up from behind the barricade, and loosed another arrow, this time at a foot soldier to the right of those
