LAWLESS: A Medieval Romance (AGE OF CONQUEST Book 7)

by Tamara Leigh

  “As she shall bear mine!”

  He shifted his regard to Martin. “Be done with it, man!”

  His servant dragged the woman’s arms from around his neck. Before Theta could hook onto him again, he heaved her forward as if she were a stone for the skipping.

  The harlot soared, and when she landed with a great splash and went under, Vilda rasped, “Be a liar in this as well, Theta. Swim.”

  As she and the others waited for a dark head to emerge, she heard Hereward grunt and saw his attention was on the boats whose occupants dared as they ought not in this section of the river.

  “What think you of our audience?” he asked.

  Returning her gaze to the murky water, relief leapt through Vilda when the woman came up spluttering and splashing.

  “V?”

  She dragged her gaze from Theta who would surely prove capable of travel by water and looked to the center boat. Though struck by the impressive height of nearly all who watched them, she knew it was the one at the bow to whom he referred. “It is he, is it not?”

  “Certes, ’tis what that one wishes me to believe. And I do.” He laughed and, as with most of his expressions of amusement, ended on a high pitch. “I began to think never would Le Bâtard believe the threat of us great enough to bring him to Ely.”

  And Vilda had prayed it would not.

  “I cannot swim! Pray, help me!” Theta cried and went under again.

  Though Hereward had said he would not let her drown, if she became entangled in her skirts and reeds or some hillock of mud took hold of her, he might not be able to save her.

  Vilda gripped his arm. “This is not the way. Send someone in after her.”

  “I will when I am more certain than not she is incapable of saving herself,” he said. “Instinct tells me that woman could swim to those Normans if she wished to.” He jutted his chin. “As quite possibly she has been doing as you witnessed last eve.”

  Staring at the water, willing Theta to surface again, Vilda said, “Mayhap she was only bathing as told. I—”

  The woman came up again, spat out water, gasped in air, and stretched out a beseeching hand. “Hereward! I vow I do not lie. I—” She slipped under, and Vilda held her breath as Theta whose suffering she had caused was surely doing, water seeking to force its way up her nose and down her throat.

  “She is good for another minute,” her cousin said.

  Vilda looked around at the others. Though their faces revealed not all were bereft of empathy, they seemed content to allow the woman to prove her innocence.

  Vilda could not like her, but she hurt for Theta as seconds bundled into tens then twenties and all that emerged were bubbles of air exiting lungs lacking a means of replenishing what was lost.

  “She drowns, Hereward!”

  “Not yet.”

  Feeling a scream in her chest, she struggled to trust her cousin would let no great ill befall the woman, but she could not. Determined to never again be responsible for another’s death, uncaring of the spectacle she made of herself, she swung a leg over the saddle. As the material of her skirts unbunched from riding astride, she dropped to the ground.

  “Halt, Vilda!”

  Knowing she disobeyed her cousin as done that night when she had agreed she would try not to do so again, she ran onto the dock. When Martin came around and began advancing on her, she halted, freed her belt’s fastener, and wrenched her gown off over her head.

  Clad in her chemise, she dove off the side into water which she, unlike Theta, could traverse with ease. When she came up, she heard Hereward call to her again. Ignoring him as well as the enemy in the boats distant enough they would only be of danger if they decided to loose arrows on her, she struck out toward where last the woman was seen.

  Half a dozen wide-sweeping strokes of the breast was all that was required to reach the spot where bubbles were no longer visible, then she filled her lungs and went under.

  Chapter Four

  She wearied of vipers, especially highborn ones—women who counted themselves her betters all because their survival did not depend on repeatedly sullying a body men desired.

  When Theta had seen the one whose boots creaked the planks dive off the dock, that weariness had tempted her to do what she had only done indirectly, thus far her most notable effort costing Hereward six men whose failed foray had threatened mutiny their leader resolved by beating and tossing the survivors in the river.

  Though it surprised the judgmental Alvilda sought to save this one who feigned an inability to tread water, it mattered not the woman had enough conscience to be averse to causing another’s death. If once Alvilda’s breath was nearly depleted Theta could get under her without exposing herself—and it was possible in the murky water—use of the reeds would aid in holding Hereward’s cousin under until life fled.

  But they were imaginings only. If Alvilda was too long in surfacing, someone would come in after her, and Theta might not have time to return to her hiding place. Even if she did, the search for Hereward’s cousin could extend to beneath the dock.

  As Alvilda came up for air, Theta adjusted her hold on the timber post to which she clung to keep her feet out of sludge beneath the water of the shadowed dock. When the shrew dove again, Theta considered drowning her in sight of William, but though the death of Hereward’s kin would please the king, leaving him in no doubt of this subject’s loyalty, the confrontation would be too distant from the boats to give her time to reach them. What good impressing the conqueror if she drowned at the hands of Hereward or was stuck through with arrows?

  Resolved to staying hidden until those who could be said to have murdered her departed, at which time she would swim to the southernmost boat of the blockade that ever delivered her to Ivo, Theta wondered how that high-ranking Norman would receive her.

  She was certain he who would be amused by her feigned drowning relished their trysts more than the information fed him. However, now that his king had come—and with him Maxen Pendery who would have no good thing to say about her—no longer would she be able to carry word of what transpired on the isle.

  Or could she?

  The idea hit with such force she gasped and nearly again out of fear of being heard by Martin whose soles were seen through gaps between planks.

  Blessedly, he remained unmoving, surely awaiting the order to retrieve Alvilda.

  Continuing to hold to the timber with one hand, with the other pressing down the gown swelling up around her that had once belonged to the wife of her former lord, Pendery—she questioned if she could as easily feign sincere gratitude as she had drowning.

  Not as easily, she conceded. But I can do it. Must do it. Will do it. And she who will think me reformed by the baptism of near death will pay for the ill done me. And my beautiful gown.

  She smiled. It was time to be rescued, but not here—farther out so better her king appreciated all she would bring to the business of ending the rebellion and think on all she would devote to the pleasures of the bed.

  Though Ivo laughed loud enough the sound might have carried to the rebels, his words did not. “She had to have been hiding under the dock. Now see how distant she is from it? Though she is sure to claim a current carried her there, as told, my pretty eel can swim.”

  Loosely holding a shield amid men braced with bows drawn to fly arrows should those on the shore release theirs, William stared at the woman where she had popped up nearer than before though she remained too distant to aid. “Still, she looks to be drowning,” he said with amusement.

  “A cunning one!” Pride was in Ivo’s voice, which could prove his undoing with one like Theta were he capable of putting any ahead of himself and his ambitions. However, the only thing the Sheriff of Lincolnshire seemed to care for more than himself was drink, and so cruel had he proven since the great battle, Guy believed if he possessed William’s power he would do worse than relieve the enemy of eyes, hands, and feet.

  Ivo continued to watch Theta’s flounderin
g as the other woman swam toward her with strong strokes, then chuckled. “Be assured, whatever she has done to earn Hereward’s wrath, she has a plan to save herself.”

  And the one who went in after her was part of her plan, Guy thought as he crossed his arms over his chest to watch her progress.

  “You think Hereward learned of her betrayal?” the king asked.

  A shrug. “As she risks much in delivering to me what is sometimes mouthfuls but more often nibbles—and for which I pay good coin—I knew eventually she would be caught.”

  No matter the intimacies they shared, she was but a tool. Though Guy disliked Theta and knew she had shaped herself into a pry bar and whatever else served her—and not out of the desperation of one who can survive no other way—he longed to put a fist in Ivo’s face.

  “Who is this Vida?” the king asked, having misheard what Hereward called the woman when she ran for the dock, that name confirming she was the one who had called Guy things most foul the night she stood in the bow, skirts tied up around her thighs and face darkened by mud.

  “The sturdy virgin widow is Hereward’s cousin,” Ivo said, “and as much a bane to me as to Theta.”

  “Study virgin widow?” William questioned what the others here surely pondered. “And what bane is she to you?”

  “Theta tells the man made to wed Alvilda refused to touch her. As for her troubling me, though I wish my pretty eel in Hereward’s bed to learn what is most easily spilled when a man is in the power of a desirable woman, Alvilda whom her cousin calls Vilda, distrusts and thwarts Theta.”

  “And yet she went in after the traitor,” Maxen mused.

  “That is curious,” Ivo said. “Were she not given to riding astride like a man and quick to toss off her gown like a joy woman, I might think her a nun come to Ely to ensure Hereward remains faithful to his wife. I wonder—is she plain as Theta told? Certes, she is not round as also I was told.”

  She was not, Guy silently agreed as he watched Alvilda draw near Theta who slipped under again. From what he had seen that night and this day glimpsed through a thin chemise, Hereward’s cousin was not voluptuous like the cunning one nor prettily formed like Elan, but she had womanly curves. Now as she slowed and her chin came out of the water, he could see her features somewhat better.

  Other than large, heavily lashed eyes swept over the enemy as if to ensure they did not advance on her, she did appear plain and perhaps a few years beyond twenty. Was her nose bruised? Certes, one of her ears was reddened.

  “Oui, no beauty,” Ivo confirmed.

  “Regardless, much courage,” Maxen said low, “though quite the pity she does not know it is wasted on one who betrays her own people.”

  As they watched, she circled Theta who had once more surfaced to further her performance, and Guy knew Alvilda sought to take hold of her from behind to prevent herself from being dragged under.

  Unfortunately, she could not know there was little chance of drowning—at least of both women. It was possible Alvilda would be intentionally held under, Theta risking arrows being loosed on her when she proved capable of swimming for the boats.

  The temptation to call out a warning to Hereward’s cousin was great, and more Guy longed to do so when her eyes returned to the king’s boat and appeared to pause on him where Maxen and he stood with shields held low the same as the king.

  Did she suspect she looked on the Norman who, to preserve the life of a squire, had foregone the opportunity to fight Hereward? That here was the one at whom she threw a blade that fell short of its target—a dagger one of his men come late to the encounter had scorned when he saw the tarnished, heavily-nicked weapon?

  Guy had retrieved it, though not because it could have been the death of him. He had looked near upon it and confirmed the only thing of interest was that the one who sought to stick it in flesh not covered in mail was a muddied Saxon rebel. Likely, even when first it was forged, it was for a commoner who had not properly cared for it.

  The moment Alvilda hooked an arm around Theta from behind, Ivo’s lover screeched, flailed, and swept her arms over her head to slap at her savior.

  “Enough!” Hereward’s cousin commanded, struggling to keep her own head above water. “I would but aid you!”

  Had Guy any doubt this was the woman who disparaged him that night, no longer. At the time he had thought her recovering from a malady of the throat, but as her voice sounded the same now, hers was one of a husky register some women, including Theta, affected to sound sensual.

  Another screech, another shout of, “Enough!” And both women sank.

  Guy tensed, as did Maxen who surely struggled the same as his friend against the impulse to aid Alvilda whom Theta might be dragging deeper. And a glance at the shore proved Hereward had lost his own struggle. Despite the danger of drawing near Normans, he was off his horse and springing onto the dock.

  “Ha!” Ivo barked. “My pretty eel enlarges the target of the outlaw.”

  So she did until the big man who had flung her into the river put hands on his leader. It appeared they would come to blows, but hardly had one woman surfaced than several rebels shouted the name of Hereward’s cousin, causing the outlaw to still.

  It was her, treading water and turning all around, then she dived. When she came up, it was with a weakly coughing, seemingly half-conscious Theta—seemingly because Alvilda behind could not see the smile the traitor shone on the Normans, nor the pop of eyebrows when she moved her regard beyond Taillebois and the king.

  She recognized Guy and Maxen. Though likely she knew Guy was in the Fens for the elite force he commanded, it must surprise to find her former lord here as well. However, rather than avert, she broadened her smile.

  As her savior adjusted her hold and spoke words likely meant to reassure, Ivo called across the distance, “She did not float. Does this mean your fellow Saxon is not a witch, Alvilda?”

  The one he named startled.

  “Aye, I know you are Hereward’s cousin, and now you know the face of he who will drag you off that isle by your hair and give you to his men.”

  Guy’s teeth ached for how hard he bit down to keep from rebuking him. More, his fists hurt. It was no mere threat, and further Guy disliked William for speaking no word against Taillebois.

  Continuing to support Theta who coughed and groaned, Alvilda called, “As your body is at odds with the bloat of your face and, I wager…” She replenished her breath. “…the red of it is not of the sun, I think you must be Taillebois the drunkard. And is that Le Bâtard shielding you?” She gasped, though not because she realized the danger of naming William that, as evidenced when further she baited. “Nay, I err. The one who stole England’s crown is much too important to keep company with a man better at fastening braies than lacing up chain mail.”

  As the king gripped Ivo’s arm and commanded him to silence and still as if for fear his man would go in after her, Hereward shouted, “Come, Vilda!”

  Holding her regard to Taillebois, she said, “Alas, this is not the day you drag me off by my hair and do evil in the sight of God.”

  “That day will come,” Ivo defied his king, “and sooner than you know, for this is William the Great, and he will reclaim Ely even if it must be made no longer habitable for the soak of filthy Saxon blood.”

  When William let stand that threat, either because he approved or was loath to lose his temper in front of the enemy, once more Hereward commanded his cousin to return.

  Though she began her backward crawl to the dock, she had more to say. “If ’tis truly you, Le Bâtard, for the sake of thousands more Normans yet to die for your greed, go back to your little dukedom. England will never be yours in truth!”

  As Guy pondered how aware she was of William’s seething that was felt by those with whom he shared the boat, she called again, “Hark! Is that you, Torquay of the elite?”

  She flashed teeth. Though her mocking smile gave her face a pretty cast, it was no balm to its recipient who stiffened in pre
paration for the revelation he had chosen his squire over meeting Hereward at swords. It would earn Guy no favor with William—indeed, could prove the end of his service, forcing him to resort to a mercenary’s life.

  “Certes, you look as I imagined the…” She drew more breath, and Guy knew the strain of getting Theta back to the dock wore on her. “…commander of the force who lets no rebel slip past…no matter the cost in Norman lives.”

  As Guy was given to weighing the good against the bad, he determined the good of this was she did not reveal him, the bad that she made sport of him for refusing to sacrifice his squire and other men. Though she must count it as weakness, he would not be ashamed.

  “I am thinking the two of you have met,” Maxen murmured.

  “I am thinking you are right,” Guy said, sure Alvilda was not done with him.

  “But another Norman pig!” she named him the same as done two months past.

  As she increased her efforts to tow Theta to the dock, Guy mused, Now she is done with me. And yet he sensed in the days and weeks ahead, better he would come to know Alvilda of Ely.

  Chapter Five

  The harlot’s response unnerved.

  Vilda having passed her to Martin who hauled her onto the dock, hardly had Hereward set his cousin on her own feet than Theta crawled forward and flung her arms around the legs of the one she named the sturdy virgin widow.

  In that moment, Vilda wished she were more sturdy, the thrust of the woman’s weight threatening to drop her to her rear in sight of Normans. If Hereward had not steadied her, she might have given those who had yet to retreat something over which to laugh.

  Pressing the side of her face against Vilda’s knees, Theta cried, “Though your fellow Saxon wronged you and has only the excuse of suffering at the hands of the enemy, you did not forsake her. For me, you placed yourself within arrow range of the ungodly Le Bâtard. Much gratitude, Lady!”

  Were she any other, Vilda might have spoken reassuring words, but this was Theta. She sounded remorseful and fearful, and near death could alter a person, but often it was only in the moment. Ever it was easier and more comfortable to revert to the known beneath one’s skin than drag it out to make room for permanent change.