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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as always for the amazing reviews. They really make my fingers work harder.
The following morning saw William and his men at church, Father Gregory presiding as they accepted the host and saw to their souls. On leaving the stone building William saw a face from his past: Lady Cecily. She was speaking quietly with a group of nobles, both male and female, and looked little different, at least from a distance. William ducked his head and tried to make it to the stable block without being seen. Looking at her more closely he could see that the years had not been kind to his first love, his puppy love. She was no longer the slender reed she had been when she visited his mother at his father’s hall. She was wider in the hips and her face had taken on a pinched and waspish appearance. He made his way quietly through the crowds and had nearly escaped when her strident tones cut across the conversations about them.

‘William of Wessex, is that you?’ her voice grated against his ears.

William turned. As a gentleman he could do no less than recognise her, her voice was so loud it would have been impossible to pretend that he hadn’t heard it.

‘My lady,’ he said formally, hoping that Godwin would come and rescue him from the harpy her looks told him she had become.

‘So formal William, you weren’t so formal last time we met, in fact weren’t you offering me your hand?’

‘An offer you and your father considered below you, my lady.’

‘Perhaps we were hasty in our decision,’ Cecily said with a calculating smile. Her father had given her very strict instructions, make friends with William and get him to repeat his offer. ‘My husband died earlier this year and I am free again.’

Cecily looked him up and down. William had grown into a fine, handsome man and he was rising fast in the kingdom of Mercia. She and her father had been rash in refusing him so quickly, but how was she to know that a younger son was going to make so much of his life?

William looked down at Cecily. She was nothing special, there was no fire in her brown eyes, she looked worn and used. There was no stirring in his body or his heart as he stared at her. Nothing: whatever he had felt was now dead and buried.

‘Whatever choice you and your family made you must now live with. I for one am grateful for your conclusion to our negotiations: I would have hated to be shackled to such a shallow and manipulative woman. Now if you will excuse me I have the King’s work to attend to.’

With that William gave a small bow and walked away leaving Cecily open mouthed and speechless. He smiled to himself as he heard her raise her voice up to a screech and start stamping her foot. He really had had a lucky escape. Brother Giles followed, laughing. William had handled himself wonderfully, the woman screeched like a banshee and was causing quite a scene. Yes, William was well out of that little mess.

By mid morning they were saddled up and away from the shelter of the city walls. The men kept a little closer to William, relying on each other to keep a lookout in what was truly enemy lands. Across the plain and onward toward the spit of land known as the Wirhael.

The rain was making it hard to see as the little troop trotted through the wooded entrance to the Wirhael and along towards the Trani mere. William had ordered that the horns be blown regularly: the last thing he needed was for Ingimund to think they were spies. It was heading for dark when they heard an answering horn sound through the gloom and twilight. They had found their quarry. William was grateful, he hadn’t wanted to camp out in the open. He halted them in a small clearing and ordered the blowing horn to sound forth again. It echoed through the wild wood, returning its own call bouncing off trees and branches. It sounded as if ghosts were in the forest and sent shivers down the spines of men who usually refused to acknowledge fear.

A cracking branch made the men snap their heads round to the source of the sound. Standing in the half light was the figure of a man wrapped in a huge cloak, one that covered his arms with sleeves. William had never seen anything quite like it. The man didn’t seem that aggressive but William knew better. He could feel other eyes watching him from the shadows. He put a restraining hand on Godwin’s arm as the swordsman had started to draw his blade.

‘This is what we’ve come for,’ William reminded him and turned back to the man in the shadows. There was something familiar about the way he stood but William couldn’t place him for the moment.

‘My name is William of Wessex, I seek audience with Ingimund and bear messages and gifts from Athelred of Mercia,’ he called out in the Norse tongue.

The man looked him up and down and then nodded. He stepped out into what light was left from the fading sun and William realised he did know him: it was Eirik, cousin to Connor and Buffy.

‘I know you William but I don’t know the men with you: will you vouch for them?’

‘I’ll vouch for them, for all of them: we come in peace.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Eirik laughed but he signalled his own men into the clearing from the shelter of the trees. Godwin took a deep breath as he realised they had been completely surrounded by warriors. William had been right to stay his hand.

William turned to the men with him. ‘It’s the peace of the Witan for us: don’t cause any trouble, and they won’t. I have vouched for all of you, in fact I suggest you peace-knot your swords, now.’

The men looked at Godwin who gave a small nod of his head. Brother Giles looked around in fascination, the men surrounding them were talking quickly to their leader, but making no move to attack. William was being proved correct: there was a chance for peace, or at least a cessation of hostilities for a time.

The man who knew William fetched his horse from where it had been hidden and swung up into the saddle. He trotted up to William’s side and had started chatting. Brother Giles couldn’t make out what was being said and spent the time looking around as they were led through the trees and out into the river plain. Standing proud against the sky, lit by flaming torches was a hall, wood built, carved and painted with exotic beasts and figures. Brother Giles crossed himself as they were led through the pale and into the yard. Boys ran up and stood waiting to take their mounts from them. All the men looked to William for their cues as to what to do. William slipped a leg over the saddle and landed gracefully on the ground. He handed over the reins of his horse, but took the packs off both it and the pony. The dogs were called in to his side and braids attached to their collars; he signalled Godwin to bring the hawks and loaded with gifts made his way in to face one of the most feared raiders on the west coast, Ingimund of Wirhael.





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