There being appeal in Vilda’s honesty, impulse had nearly made him return her sentiment, but wary of rashness and feelings that must be unknotted before committing to what he should not commit, he had told himself another kiss and embrace would aid in sorting out what he felt.
It was best the monk had returned, and would be better if Guy did not see Vilda again, but he would keep his word. Then unless William determined he had further need of this chevalier, Guy would release Squire Jacques from his service and accept Maxen’s invitation to return to his lands upon Etcheverry for a time. Should Elan and her husband and children visit during his stay, all the better so he could put her further behind him. And decide the way forward.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Despite the resistance’s courage these five years and occasional successes that offered hope of tipping rule back in favor of Saxons, the lack of a consolidated effort and betrayal by Danish allies had merely delayed the inevitable.
Now, as with the rest of the kingdom, all of Ely and the Fens belonged to the one whose admirers named him William the Great and detractors agreed only in terms of how terrible that greatness. Blessedly, it was not as terrible on the isle as in the North where numerous innocents had suffered cruel reprisal alongside rebels unable to escape the conqueror’s wrath.
Guy thought two things at play here—the deal struck with Abbot Thurstan that included the pardoning of commoners, and possibly William’s fascination and empathy for Vilda. However, neither of those saved rebel leaders who, refusing to flee with others desperately plying boats away from Ely, continued to defend what was lost until they bled out or were captured.
Of those brought to their knees, the ones who willingly bent them to Norman rule were sentenced to imprisonment, while those who refused were maimed to render them incapable of ever again taking up arms against their king.
Now would England finally heal? Would the country in which Guy was raised prosper as once it had? Under William, would it rouse again the envy of other rulers as once it had roused the envy of the Duke of Normandy?
Let not these years of warring be for naught, Guy sent heavenward where he sat his mount alongside Maxen and watched the boat carrying three of import from Ely to this shore where those chosen as their escort had assembled at daybreak.
Where Vilda was concerned, Guy did not like the plan, but at least for a time he and Maxen and their men would also serve as escort alongside Taillebois and those he commanded.
Ever the strategist, William had determined since both parties headed the same direction until Taillebois veered from the route that would deliver Maxen and Guy to Etcheverry, the forces of the latter would strengthen the former lest rebels attempt to exact revenge on Normans or those who had betrayed their own.
Of course, there was the possibility Hereward would lead such an attack, motivated by revenge as well as extraction of his cousin who was to be delivered to an abbey in Essex. Were the outlaw to prevail, likely death would be dealt Earl Morcar who was destined for the coast for transport to Normandy where his jailer would be one of the king’s trusted advisors. As for Bishop Aethelwine bound for seclusion at Abingdon, it was unlikely his life would be trespassed upon, but there would be retribution—if rebels were of sufficient numbers and courage to attack so large a force, and surely that was best done while still in the treacherous Fens.
“This day will be the most dangerous,” Maxen said, confirming his and Guy’s thoughts ran parallel. “There can be no mistakes.”
Breathing in a warm day cooled by intermittent breezes that swelled the scents of the marsh now less offensive than when first he came here, Guy looked sidelong at his friend. “For that, William appointed you commander until we part from Taillebois.”
“And the knave is not pleased.” Maxen jutted his chin at the one who appeared disgruntled, unlike the woman mounted on a palfrey beside him.
A beautiful gown had been secured for Ivo’s pretty eel, if not one Taillebois kept among his possessions for women he wished more presentable before taking them to bed, then gained from a wealthy inhabitant upon Ely—or better said, stolen.
The traitor looked exceedingly content, and Guy knew it was not only because she appeared more a lady than Vilda. It was that she believed she had gained what other nobles before Ivo had denied her—status.
Guy did not believe it, certain what she enjoyed was temporary. Now that her usefulness was at an end, whatever gratitude Taillebois felt would wane along with his interest. Theta would be replaced and replaced again.
“Methinks Ivo tires of her,” Maxen said, and Guy might have laughed had he not returned his regard to the boat nearing the dock.
A moment after he settled his gaze on Vilda who stood far forward of Morcar and Aethelwine as if unable to stomach being near them, her eyes were upon him. She startled as if she had thought he had broken his word when he was not present for her departure from Ely. Confirmation of that was in the slight curve of her mouth.
How much more would it turn when she learned that this day and halfway through the next he would be among her escort? Or might it not turn at all for prolonging their parting that could make it more difficult considering what she felt for him?
“More importantly,” Maxen murmured, “methinks Lady Alvilda is in love.” Guy stiffened, but that did not keep his friend from adding, “Has she any hope?”
“None,” he said. “She is bound for the convent.”
“And were she not?”
Choosing not to answer, Guy remained in formation though tempted to aid her with disembarking and gaining the saddle. Thus, it was another who ensured her footing from boat to dock and led her past Taillebois
