to speak in Vitalis’s presence.
Five days after the sack of Peterborough Abbey, Prince Canute had followed his uncle to East Anglia with eight ships. That he and his men were now moving toward Ely did not surprise as much as what transpired following their arrival. After disembarking, they were met by a small Norman army led by King William’s brother, Bishop Odo.
From watching the enemies who had sent representatives to the middle ground, the messenger had concluded the meeting was pre-arranged. What was discussed could only be surmised from the weighty chests Odo exchanged for a woman of exceedingly long black hair and a fairly young chevalier of silvered dark hair.
Hereward did not entirely understand the meaning of it, but Vitalis did. As hoped when he determined to expend his efforts on recovering Nicola and leave extrication of the abbess to Sir Maël, Mary Sarah was free of the Danes—as was Nicola’s cousin, albeit both by ransoming.
It boded well William had paid for the release of his captain of the guard, but what of Mary Sarah who was not to wed King Sweyn’s son after all? It could not bode well, Le Bâtard’s interest in a seemingly unremarkable woman having more to do with her betrothal to his enemy than seeing her returned to the abbey.
“What direction did the foul Bishop Odo go?” Hereward asked.
His man gulped down the last of a formerly plump wineskin. “Toward Wulfenshire, my lord.”
It followed since that shire was relatively near, Sir Maël’s family resided there, and Mary Sarah’s abbey was there as well. Meaning soon Lady Hawisa would know, if not by sight then word, the fate of her husband’s cousin and the abbess—just as she had learned two nights past Nicola fared well and Vitalis kept watch until he could remedy her abduction. Blessedly, Zedekiah had delivered the message and returned to Ely with none the wiser he had departed.
“How fast does Prince Canute travel?” Hereward asked.
“Though he and his men make good progress, it will be the morrow ere they reach Ely since many are on foot.”
“If they come here,” Hereward said.
The messenger frowned. “You think they will not seek out their greatest ally?”
“I believe they will, but one ought never be certain of what remains invisible to the eye.” He looked to Vitalis. “A lesson I would have been taught at Wulfen had I been afforded training the same as you, eh?” At Vitalis’s nod, he continued, “Regardless, neither of you shall speak of this since I would not have it reach the earl.”
Then his distrust of the Dane was of greater depth than revealed. Hence, seriously he considered the earl might try to take the treasures from Ely ahead of his nephew’s arrival—just as Vitalis took seriously the threat of Bjorn once more running with Nicola though in the days since his assault, the young man had not visited her.
“Return to your post,” Hereward ordered his man.
As the messenger hastened across the training field, Vitalis said, “You will permit Canute and his men to cross to Ely?”
Hereward planted in moist earth the point of the sword he had earlier beat against Vitalis’s. “Many are concerned over swelling the ranks of Danes on this isle, but I think I must. Not only are they our allies, but should Abbot Turold attempt to bring his forces here to retaliate for what was taken from Peterborough, the more Danish swords we have, the easier to repel an attack.”
As Vitalis waited for him to continue, he reflected on what was known of the new abbot’s arrival at Peterborough two days following the plundering. It was reported the man had ranted, cursed, and cried out to the heavens, that he had vowed he would be the weapon wielded by the Lord to avenge the atrocity, and that the head of every offender would adorn the gate to be rebuilt amid the ashes of the one destroyed. And Vitalis did not doubt he would try.
“Not that our enemy can take this isle, so treacherous are its waters, marshes, and bogs,” Hereward added, his tone that of one more intent on assuring himself than persuading another. “But I would not lose any men to them.”
“Return the prior and his monks to Peterborough,” Vitalis said.
Hereward jerked. “It sounds a command you give rather than a suggestion.”
It did—and would be were Vitalis the leader. “’Tis a suggestion, albeit a strong one.”
Hereward thought on it. “You think their return will appease Turold?”
“I think little will appease him beyond making good