The Velvet Promise

  He walked through a maze of baled hay to the open doorway and smiled down at Blanche and Gladys. “A beautiful morning, isn’t it? And what might you two charming ladies want of me?”

  Gladys giggled. “Are we to shout it for all the castle to hear?”

  He grinned again and after one last glance over his shoulder, descended the ladder. He put an arm around each woman’s shoulders. “Perhaps we could talk to the cook this morning. I find I’m famished.”

  The following four days were hell for Jocelin. Never in his life had he had to keep a secret, and his constant acts of subterfuge were exhausting. Had it not been for the stableman’s wife, he would not have been successful.

  “I don’t know what you have hidden up there,” the old woman said, “but I’ve lived long enough not to be surprised by anything.” She cocked her head at Jocelin, admiring his looks. “It would be my guess it’s a woman.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “Oh, yes, it’s a woman, all right. Now I must set my mind to figuring out why she must be kept hidden.”

  Jocelin started to speak but she held up her hand. “No need to explain. No one loves a mystery more than I do. Let me have my puzzle and I’ll help you keep the other women from your room, though that won’t be easy with the numbers that plague you. Someone ought to put you in a jar and pickle you, boy. You ought to be preserved—that’s for certain. No other three men alive could pleasure as many girls as you do.”

  Jocelin turned away in exasperation. He was worried about Constance, and almost everyone had begun to notice his distraction. All except Alice. She demanded more and more of Jocelin, calling him constantly to play for her and every night to her bed, where the violence she desired drained him more each night. And constantly he had to listen to Alice’s hatred of Judith Revedoune, and of how Alice was going to visit King Henry VII and get Gavin Montgomery back.

  He looked to see if anyone watched him as he climbed the ladder to the little loft room. For the first time, Constance was awake to greet him. She sat up, clutching the blanket about her nude body. For days, while she’d been dazed with fever, Jocelin had cared for her, becoming as familiar with her body as his own. It did not occur to him that he was a stranger to her.

  “Constance!” he said joyfully, not completely aware of her fear. He knelt beside her. “How good it is to see your eyes again.” He took her face in his hands to examine the bruises which were healing quickly, thanks to her youth and Jocelin’s care. He started to move the mantle from her bare shoulders to attend to her other wounds.

  “No,” she whispered, closing the mantle.

  He looked down at her in surprise.

  “Who are you?”

  “Ah, sweet, don’t be afraid of me. I’m Jocelin Laing. You met me before with the Lady Alice. Don’t you remember?”

  At the mention of Alice’s name, Constance’s eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. Jocelin pulled her into his arms—a place where she’d spent much time though did not know it. She tried to pull away from him, but she was too weak.

  “It’s all over now. You’re safe. You are here with me and I won’t let anyone harm you.”

  “Lord Edmund—” she whispered against his shoulder.

  “No, he doesn’t know you’re here. No one does, only me. I’ve kept them all from knowing about you. He thinks you’re dead.”

  “Dead? But—”

  “Quiet.” He smoothed her hair. “There will be time for talk later. First you must heal. I have brought you a soup of carrots and lentils. Can you chew?”

  She nodded against him, not relaxed but not stiff either. He moved her to arm’s length. “You can sit?” She nodded again, and he smiled as if she had accomplished a great feat of strength.

  Jocelin had become adept at sneaking warm pots of food into the loft. No one seemed to think it odd that he carried his lute over his shoulder and the lute case in his arms. But each night he filled the case with food he hoped would nourish the feverish Constance.

  He held the bowl and began to feed her as if she were a child. She moved her hand to take the spoon from him, but she shook too much to hold it. When she could eat no more, her eyes dropped in exhaustion. She would have fallen if Jocelin hadn’t caught her. Too weak to protest, he cradled her in his lap and she drifted off to sleep easily, indeed feeling protected.

  When Constance woke, she was alone. It took a few moments to remember where she was. The young man with thick black lashes who hummed in her ear couldn’t have been real. What was real was Edmund Chatworth’s hands about her throat, Alice’s twisting of her arms, pulling her hair, any method to give pain that would not show.

  Hours later, Jocelin returned and he held Constance in his arms, both snuggled deep under his mantle. He was not aware of time passing. For the first time in his life, the desires of women did not rule him. Constance’s complete dependency on him brought an emotion he’d never known before—the beginning of love. All the love he’d ever felt for all the women was being concentrated into one fierce and burning passion.

  But Jocelin was not a free man. There were others who watched him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE LONG, THIN BLACK LEATHER OF THE WHIP SNAKED angrily across the man’s back. His back was already crisscrossed with many oozing stripes. He screamed loudly each time the whip struck him and twisted his hands frantically away from the braided rawhide thongs that held him to the post.

  John Bassett looked toward Gavin, who nodded curtly. Gavin had no stomach for the punishment, and he had even less respect for the man’s womanly screams.

  John Bassett cut the bindings and the man fell into the grass. No one made any move to help him. “Shall I leave him?” John asked.

  Gavin looked toward the castle across the narrow valley. It had taken two weeks to find Walter Demari. The wily little man seemed more interested in a cat-and-mouse chase than in getting what he wanted. For the last week, Gavin had camped outside the walls and worked on his attack. He had gone to the walls and called up challenges to the guards at the gate, but his words were ignored. Yet, even while the challenges were made, four of Gavin’s men quietly dug beneath the ancient walls. But the walls were deep, the foundations broad. It was going to take much too long to break through. He feared that Demari would grow tired of waiting for Gavin’s surrender and kill Helen.

  As if he didn’t have enough problems, one of his men, this mewling creature at his feet, had decided that since he was a knight of one of the Montgomeries, he was close to God. During the night, Humphrey Bohun had ridden into the nearest town and raped a merchant’s fourteen-year-old daughter, then ridden back to camp triumphant. He was bewildered by Lord Gavin’s rage when the girl’s father told of his daughter.

  “I don’t care what you do with him. Just make sure he’s out of my sight within the next hour.” Gavin pulled his heavy leather gloves from where they hung over his belt. “Call Odo to me.”

  “Odo?” John’s face took on a hard look. “My lord, you can’t be thinking again of traveling to Scotland.”

  “I must. We’ve discussed this before. I don’t have enough men to declare a full attack on the castle. Look at it! It looks as if a good wind would crumble the rest of the stones away but I swear the Normans knew how to build a fortress. I think it’s made of poured rock. If we’re to get inside before the end of the year, I’ll need Stephen’s help.”

  “Then let me go for him.”

  “And when were you last in Scotland? I have an idea where Stephen is, and tomorrow morning I’ll take four men and find him.”

  “You’ll need more protection than just four men.”

  “I can ride faster with fewer,” Gavin said. “I can’t afford to split up my men. Half of them are with Judith. Now, if I ride away with half again, it will leave you too unprotected. Let’s just hope Demari doesn’t realize I’ve gone.”

  John knew Lord Gavin was right, but he didn’t like his master riding away without a good guard. But he’d learned long ago th
at it was no use trying to argue with a man as stubborn as Gavin.

  The man at their feet groaned, recalling their attention to him. “Get him out of here!” Gavin said and stalked toward where his men were building a catapult.

  Without thinking, John put a strong arm under the knight’s shoulder and lifted him.

  “All this because of a little slut!” the man hissed, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.

  “Shut up!” John ordered. “You had no right to treat the girl like a heathen. If it’d been me, I would have had you hanged.” He half-dragged the bleeding man to the edge of the camp, where John gave him a shove that sent him sprawling. “Now get out of here and don’t come back.”

  Humphrey Bohun pulled the grass out of his mouth and looked after John’s retreating form. “Oh, I’ll be back. And it’ll be me who’s holding the whip next time.”

  The four men were very quiet as they made their way to waiting horses. Gavin had not told anyone except John Bassett of his journey to find Stephen. The three men who rode with him had all fought with Gavin in Scotland and they knew the rough, wild countryside. The group would travel as lightly as possible, without a herald carrying the Montgomery banner before them. All the men wore brown and green in an attempt to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

  They slipped silently into their saddles and walked their horses away from the sleeping camp.

  They were barely ten miles from the camp when they were surrounded by twenty-five men wearing Demari’s colors.

  Gavin drew his sword and leaned over to Odo. “I will attack and cut a path through. You escape and get to Stephen.”

  “But my lord! You will be killed!”

  “Do as I say,” Gavin commanded.

  Demari’s men encircled the little group very slowly. Gavin looked about to find their weakest spot. They looked at him smugly, as if they knew the battle was already won. Then Gavin saw Humphrey Bohun. The rapist grinned in delight to see his former master so cornered.

  Immediately, Gavin knew where he’d made his mistake. He’d spoken to John about his journey in front of this piece of filth. Gavin nodded to Odo, lifted his long steel broad sword with both hands on the hilt and charged. Demari’s men were stunned. They had orders to take Lord Gavin prisoner. They’d assumed that when he was outnumbered more than six to one, he would surrender docilely.

  That moment of hesitation cost Humphrey Bohun his life and allowed Odo to escape. Gavin hacked at the traitor, and he died before he could even grab his sword. Another and another fell under Gavin’s sword as it flashed brilliantly against the rays of the rising sun. Odo’s well-trained animal leaped over the dead bodies and the screaming horses, and galloped for the safety of the woods. He had no time to see if anyone followed him. He kept his head low and molded himself to his horse.

  Gavin had chosen his men well. The two who were now beside him backed their horses together, the animals trained to follow the commands given by their masters’ knees. The three men fought valiantly and when one of them fell, Gavin felt part of himself fall. They were his men and he was close to them.

  “Cease!” a voice commanded over the clash of steel against steel, the cries of anguish.

  The men drew back quickly and when their eyes cleared, they began to access the damage. At least fifteen of Demari’s men lay dead or wounded, unable to stay on their mounts.

  The horses of the men in the middle still stood their ground, rump to rump in pinwheel fashion. The man on Gavin’s left had a deep slash across the top of his arm. Gavin, heaving with exertion, was covered with blood, but very little of it was his own.

  The remaining of Demari’s men looked on in silent tribute to the unarmored fighters.

  “Take them!” said the man who seemed to be the leader of the attackers. “But see that Montgomery comes to no harm. He is needed alive.”

  Gavin lifted his sword again but suddenly there was a sharp sting and his hands were immobilized. A thin whip had been thrown, and his arms were pinned to his sides.

  “Tie him.”

  Even as Gavin was dragged from his horse, his foot caught one man in the throat.

  “Are you afraid of him?” the leader demanded. “You’ll die anyway if you don’t obey me. Tie him to that tree. I’d like him to watch how we treat captives.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  JUDITH WAS KNEELING IN THE ROSE GARDEN, HER LAP full of blossoms. Gavin had been gone a month now, with no word for the last ten days. There wasn’t a moment that she didn’t glance out a window or through a doorway to see if a messenger had arrived. She swayed between wanting to see him and dreading his return. He had too much hold over her, as he’d proven when she’d gone to his room the night before he left to fight for her lands. Yet she knew well enough that he had no such ambiguous feelings toward her. For him only the-blonde Alice existed; his wife was only a toy to be used when he needed amusement.

  She heard the clatter of arms as the men rode through the double gate that separated the inner bailey from the outer. She stood quickly, the roses falling to her feet as she picked up her skirts and began to run. None of them was Gavin. Judith released her pent-up breath, lowered her skirts and walked more sedately.

  John Bassett sat atop his war-horse looking many years older than he had when he left some weeks before. His hair, graying at the temples, was even whiter now. His eyes were sunken, dark circles under them. The side of his chain mail had been torn and the edges of the cut were rusted from blood. The other men were no better; their faces haggard, their clothes torn and filthy.

  Judith stood silently while John dismounted. “Take the horses,” she said to a stableboy. “See that they are cared for.”

  John looked down at her a moment; then, with resignation, started to kneel to kiss her hand.

  “No!” Judith said quickly. She was too practical to allow him to waste more energy in what, to her, was a useless gesture. She put her arm about his waist, guided his arm about her shoulders.

  John stiffened, taken aback by the familiarity of his little mistress. Then he smiled fondly at the top of her head.

  “Come and sit by the fountain,” she said as she led him to the tiled pool just inside the garden wall. “Joan!” she commanded, “bring some of the other maids and send someone from the kitchen with food and wine.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She turned back to John. “I’ll help you remove your armor,” she said before he could protest.

  Women came from inside the castle and soon the four men were bared from the waist up, their armor sent for repair. Each man ate ravenously of hot bowls of thick stew.

  “You don’t ask me the news,” John said between bites, his elbow raised so Judith could clean and bandage the wound in his side.

  “You will tell me,” she said. “If it were good, my husband would have returned also. I can wait a long time for bad news.”

  John set the bowl down and looked at her.

  “Is he dead?” she asked, not looking up at him.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “We were betrayed.”

  “Betrayed!” she cried, apologizing when she realized she’d hurt John’s wound.

  “One of the garrison knights, a new man named Bohun, slipped through the night to tell Demari that Lord Gavin planned to ride to his brother for help at dawn. Lord Gavin hadn’t gone far when he was overtaken.”

  “But he was not killed?” Judith whispered.

  “I don’t believe so. We found no body,” John said harshly, returning to his food. “Two of the men who rode with my lord were killed…killed in such a way that it lies heavy on me. This is no ordinary man we deal with, but a devil!”

  “Was there no ransom message or any word that they held him prisoner?”

  “No. Nothing. The four of us must have gotten there moments after the battle. There were some of Demari’s men still there. We fought them.”

  She tied the last knot on the bandage then looked up at him. “Where a
re the other men? There couldn’t be only four left.”

  “They still camp outside Demari’s walls. We go to fetch Lord Miles and his men. Lord Raine’s leg wouldn’t have had time to heal.”

  “And do you think Miles will be able to free Gavin?”

  John didn’t answer but concentrated on the stew.

  “Come, you can tell me the truth.”

  He looked at her. “It’s a strong castle. It can be taken without reinforcements only if we lay siege.”

  “But that would take months!”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “And what of Gavin and my mother who are held prisoner there? Wouldn’t they be the first to starve if the food were gone?”

  John stared at his bowl.

  Judith stood, her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. “There is another way,” she said evenly. “I will go to Walter Demari.”

  John’s head shot up, one eyebrow raised. “And what can you do that men cannot?” he asked cynically.

  “Anything that is required of me,” Judith answered quietly.

  John nearly threw his bowl. Instead, he grabbed her arm, his strong hand hurting her. “No! You don’t know what you’re saying. Do you think we deal with a sane man? Do you think he will free Lord Gavin and your mother if you were to give him what he wants? If you saw the men—what were once men,” he added, “who rode with Lord Gavin, you wouldn’t consider giving yourself to this Demari. There was no need for such torture, yet he seemed to do it for joy alone. If he were a man, I would consider your idea, but he isn’t.”

  She shook her arm until John released it. “What else is there to do? A siege would most certainly cause their deaths, but you say a siege is the only way to attack. If I were to get inside the castle, perhaps I could find Gavin and my mother and arrange an escape for them.”

  “An escape!” he snorted. John had forgotten that she was the Lady Judith and had the authority to order him about; she was just a young and inexperienced girl now. “And how would you get out? There are only two entrances; both guarded well.”