May 1070

I spent the next few days in a heightened state of paranoia – again – and really only relaxed once we finally landed in Normandy, in the town of Bayeux. Or was it bishopric, because it was under the control of a bishop? Or was it just a town a bishop was based out of and Odo didn't actually control or rule over Bayeux?

This was too confusing. Town of Bayeux, there.

We arrived in the morning and so we didn't stay, instead getting right back on the road again, heading south with a bit of west. The plan as I understood it was to inn-hop until we got to Mortain, stay there for about a week, gather a levy, and then go south to figure out what was going on in Maine.

Mostly, I… well, to say I didn't care wasn't right. Whether the people of Maine were "right" to rebel or not there was still a conflict here and it was probably going to lead to some fighting. But there wasn't really anything I could do, either; I couldn't tell Robert just to forget about it and leave, I had no connection to the people of Maine, and I didn't have the diplomatic skills to arrange some kind of compromise, assuming both sides were even willing to do so. At best, I could try and make sure Robert was being reasonable and restrained.

In any case, the first evening on our road trip south, I kept Tim from the sweet embrace of early sleep and dragged him off to a small clearing near the inn we were staying at.

"I see you finally decided to put aside your staff," Tim noted as we set up.

"Sort of," I said. "I did some thinking on the way south, thought about what kind of situations I'd use my staff in and what situations I'd use my sword in."

"And?"

"And most of the time I'll use my staff. It's what I'm more familiar with, I have a lot more experience with staff fighting, and it lets me mix in my magic," I said. "Whereas my sword is really only better in a few situations, where my magic is more or less useless, or at least a lot weaker."

The logic held regardless of whether I was using Amoracchius or my Warden sword, which I should really get around to naming. Glamdring didn't fit, since I'd proven I couldn't pull a Gandalf and use staff and sword together, and I didn't have any other clear leads.

"And your… shield?" he asked.

I'd put my shield bracelet back on my left hand, though wearing it on my right hand had been interesting. My current thought was to have two bracelets, the more elaborate one on the left for when I needed to prepare a comprehensive defense and had the time and opportunity to do so, and something closer to my original shield bracelet on the right, for quick and reflexive blocks.

"Not while we're traveling," I answered. "Too many eyes."

"Everyone at court thinks you have magic," Tim said.

"Sure, but there's 'thinks I have magic' and what they imagine I can do, and what I can actually do," I said. "The gap can really freak people out."

Tim didn't contest that.

"Anyway, are we talking, or practicing?" I asked, hefting my sword.

I lost, of course, which wasn't a surprise. But I didn't lose as badly as I had the first time around. My performance had dropped a bit, but that was because I'd gotten into the groove of fighting with left-handed sword and magic tower shield, regardless of how unwieldy that combination had been. And I wasn't expecting to be anywhere close to good by the time I ran into Gauthier. Then again, I didn't need to be; I was planning on using Amoracchius, not wielding or swinging it.

Besides practice, my evenings were also taken up with enchantment. I'd finished the protective charms on Elfleda's clothes by the time we landed, and at this point was just working on her necklace. The existing ward on it was good, probably capable of taking a single hit from me before shorting out, but vampires were unlikely to use evocation and so I wanted something a little more general.

It took us about five days to reach Mortain, which was a small but, at first glance, fairly prosperous township just full of wooden buildings. The castle of Mortain was on the south side of the town, so we passed through the town; along the way, people came out to see the procession, and it looked like some of the people recognized us. Or rather Robert and so on, not me.

We arrived early in the evening, early enough for dinner. And that first dinner really told me all I needed to know about Robert's relationship with his family. His wife Matilda was a small woman, a few inches taller than Helga, who had a tired face that made her look like she was in her forties rather than her thirties. While they sat together at dinner and exchanged pleasantries, it was fairly obvious they were talking at each other rather than with each other. Robert was somewhat warmer with his daughter Denise, who couldn't have been older than ten, but the fact that this was the first time I was seeing her, in Mortain, despite Robert having spent years in England, was telling enough.

Oh, yeah, and Robert brought his mistress into the same house, which was just the cherry on top of this family-cake.

The week and a half we spent at Mortain, with Robert checking up on his lands and bringing various levies together, generally wasn't exciting. I worked, trained, walked and talked with Elfleda, talked with John – who didn't have the most stellar opinion of Odo, by the way – and generally just passed the time. The only really interesting thing to happen in that entire stay was when I'd "improved" on the necklace's wards and went to finally give it to Elfleda.

Mortain was close to a nice and lightly-wooded forest where I'd been walking with Elfleda and training with Tim. Smaller than Berkhamsted Forest by my estimate, but without any centaurs that might spoil the experience. This happened a day before we left Mortain, and I waited until we were a little into the woods before turning to Elfleda.

We weren't walking arm-in-arm but we were close to each other, so when I stopped and turned to face her she did the same, eyebrow raised. "Yes?" she asked.

"I finished working on the necklace," I said.

"Oh, does that mean I finally get it?" she asked teasingly.

In response, I dug the necklace out of one of my pocket's and held it out to her. She took it, then brought it close to inspect it.

"I see you carved… script into the frame?" she asked.

"Yeah. It was a real pain," I said. "And if I knew anything about gem cutting I might've worked on the sapphire too."

"What does it do?" Elfleda asked, putting it on and shifting it until it sat right.

"What Godiva said, acts as a defensive charm, but what I added was something more relevant to present circumstances," I said.

"Don't keep me in suspense," she said.

"If you wrap your hand around the gem portion tightly and say 'aegis' – don't do that yet – then it should produce a protective barrier around you, like a bubble. It's not as strong and impervious as I would've liked, I didn't have that long to work on it, but it should be impassable and resistant to physical force. Something to be used in case of emergency," I said.

"Interesting," she said. "Can it break?"

"It can, if enough force was used against it. But it'll hold out for a few minutes before that happens, and I can bring it down if necessary."

"What about me? Can I disable it?" she asked.

"Not right now. I didn't have the time to add in a way to turn it off without using magic, which isn't something you can do. Right now, at least. And it doesn't move either."

"So it's a cage, of sorts," she said.

"I guess," I replied. "It's something to use in case we're attacked. The idea is you bring up the barrier, and I don't have to worry so much about protecting you right away. And if it turns out we need to run, I can bring it down and we can hoof it."

"I see. Should I try it now, so you can test it?" she asked.

"…sure," I said after a brief pause.

Elfleda arched an eyebrow. "That pause does not fill me with confidence," she said.

"It's perfectly safe," I said. "I'm just not entirely sure that turning it on won't crack the frame. Or the gem. And sort of ruin the necklace."

Elfleda let out an aggrieved sigh. "If it does, you will be making reparations. Now, do I need to put some space between us, so that you're left on the outside?" She frowned slightly. "Come to think of it, what are the dimensions? And what would happen to anything caught on the edge?"

"Uh… spread your arms out, all the way," I said.

She did so, spreading her arms out like the Vitruvian Man. Only with one set of arms rather than two. "Like this?"

"Yeah. About a little wider than that, a foot taller than you, and as long as it is wide. Like a slightly rounded rectangular prism."

"Not much space," she remarked. "And you didn't answer my question."

"It spreads outwards from the gem, encompassing you and pushing everyone and everything close to you back," I said. "So rocks, twigs, animals, people. It should come up fast so I suppose you could fling someone back with it, if you timed it right. I wouldn't recommend it." I took a few steps back so I wouldn't be caught up in the effect. "You can try it at any time."

Elfleda nodded, clasped the necklace, and brought up the bubble, a shimmering, thinly-translucent barrier of bright blue light, in the image of my own shields.

"Okay, you should be able to hear me," I said.

"I can," she replied. "And your gift appears to be intact."

"Good. Now, give me a moment," I said.

I'd worked a small flaw into the design, basically a way to short-circuit it. No one except another wizard with the Sight or someone similarly capable should've been able to find it, and even then not right away. It wasn't the best solution to the problem, but if Elfleda was being directly attacked by a warlock or other powerful practitioner then we both had bigger problems. This was for the more physical threats.

I threaded my magic into the structure of the shield, and then carefully picked it apart. The barrier flickered and then dissipated, breaking apart into motes of blue light that faded in seconds. I moved back to Elfleda's side, and noted the necklace was still fine.

"Hmm," Elfleda said, lifting the necklace so she could look more closely at it. "It's intact. How fortunate for you."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"If you had ruined my gift without asking me in advance, I would have been very cross," she said sternly. "But it works, and it's thoughtful, so instead, thank you."