Walter and Arthur stood at one side of the great hall. The tables had been cleared and the men-at-arms spread straw-filled mattresses on the floor for the night.
“I don’t trust her,” Sir Arthur said under his breath.
“Trust her!” Walter exploded. “How can you say such a thing after you’ve seen her? She is a delicate flower of a girl. She has been beaten and so mistreated that she fears the slightest frown.”
“She didn’t seem so frightened when she demanded better quarters for her mother.”
“Demanded! She could never demand anything. It isn’t in her nature to do so. She was merely concerned for Lady Helen. And that is another example of her sweet nature.”
“Such sweet nature obtained a great deal from you tonight. Look at how she had you nearly admit there was no written agreement of marriage from her father.”
“What does that matter?” Walter demanded. “She doesn’t want her marriage to Gavin Montgomery.”
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
“I have heard—”
“Heard! Bah! Then why did she come here? She cannot be so simple that she believes there is no danger for her.”
“Do you imply that I would harm her?” Walter demanded.
Arthur stared at him. “Not while she is new to you.” He knew Walter well. “You must wed her before you bed her. Only then will you truly own her. If you take her now without the church, she may hate you as you say she hates her husband.”
“I don’t need advice about women from you! I am the master here. Have you no duties?”
“Yes, my lord,” Arthur smirked. “Tomorrow I must help my master show our defenses to our prisoner.” He walked away just as Walter threw a wine goblet at his head.
Judith woke very early, while the room was still dark. Immediately she remembered Joan saying that the morning would bring word of Gavin. She threw back the cover hastily, and put her arms through the sleeves of a bedgown of cinnamon brocade from Byzantium. The brocade was woven with lighter flowers in the fabric and was lined with cream cashmere. The straw pallet where Joan was to sleep was empty. Judith clamped her teeth together in anger and suddenly began to worry. Had Joan left her, too? Had Arthur discovered Joan in some act of spying?
The door opened almost silently, and a heavy-lidded Joan tiptoed through the shadows. “Where have you been!” Judith demanded in a tight whisper.
Joan’s hand flew to cover her mouth to still the shriek gathering there. “My lady! You gave me a fright. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“You dare to ask me why I’m not in bed?” Judith hissed before recovering herself. “Come, tell me of your news. Have you learned anything of Gavin?” Judith took her maid’s arm and pulled her to the bed. They both sat cross-legged on the thick feather mattress.
But Joan’s eyes didn’t look directly into her mistress’s intense golden stare. “Yes, my lady, I found him.”
“Is he well?” Judith pressed.
Joan took a deep breath and rushed into her description. “It was hard to find him. He is well guarded at all times and the entryway is…difficult. But,” she smiled, “as luck would have it, one of the guards seemed to like me quite well, and we spent a lot of time together. He is such a man! All night he—”
“Joan!” Judith said sharply. “You are hiding something from me, aren’t you? What about my husband? How is he?”
Joan looked at her mistress, started to speak, then dropped her face into her hands. “It is too horrible, my lady. That they could do such a thing to him is beyond belief. He is a nobleman! Even the worst serfs are not treated as he is.”
“Tell me,” Judith said in a deadly voice. “Tell me everything.”
Joan lifted her head, fighting tears and the turning of her stomach. “Few of the castlefolk know he is here. He was brought alone, during the night and…thrown below.”
“Below?”
“Yes, my lady. There is a space below the cellar—little more than a hole dug out amid the foundations of the tower. The moat water seeps across the floor and things…slimy things…breed there.”
“And this is where Gavin is kept?”
“Yes, my lady,” Joan said quietly. “The ceiling of that hole is the cellar floor, and it is high above the hole’s floor. The only descent is down a ladder.”
“You have seen this place?”
“Yes, my lady.” She bowed her head again. “And I have seen Lord Gavin.”
Judith grabbed the girl’s arms fiercely. “You have seen him and you waited this long to tell me?”
“I didn’t believe that…that man was Lord Gavin.” She looked up, agony etching her face. “He has always been so handsome, so strong, but now there is little more than skin on his bones. His eyes are black circles that burn through you. The guard, the man I spent the night with, opened the trapdoor and held a candle. The stench! I could barely look into the blackness. Lord Gavin—I wasn’t at first sure it was he—covered his face from the brightness of just one candle. The floor, my lady—it crawled! There was no dry place on it. How does he sleep? There could be no place to lie down.”
“You are sure this man was Lord Gavin?”
“Yes. The guard’s whip licked at him, and he drew his hand away and stared up at us in hatred.”
“Did he know you?”
“I don’t think so. I feared that at first, but now I believe him to be beyond recognizing anyone.”
Judith looked away in thought.
Joan touched her arm. “My lady, it is too late. He’s not long for this world. He can’t last for more than a few days, at most. Forget him. He is worse than dead.”
Judith gave her a hard look. “Didn’t you just say he is alive?”
“Only barely. Even if he were taken out today, the sunlight would kill him in moments.”
Judith left the bed. “I must dress.”
Joan looked at her mistress’s straight back. She was glad she’d given up any idea of rescue. The shrunken, emaciated face still haunted her. Still, Joan was suspicious. She’d lived with Judith too long, and she knew her little mistress rarely let a problem go unsolved. There were times when Joan had been completely exhausted from arranging and rearranging some matter so that Judith could see it from all angles. Yet Judith never gave up. If she set her mind to the harvesting of a field before a certain date, it was harvested by then, even if Judith herself had to help in the threshing.
“Joan, I will need a garment of russet, very dark, like the serfs wear. And some boots—tall ones. It won’t matter if they’re too large—for I can lace them tight. And a bench. Make sure it is a long one, but narrow enough to fit through the trapdoor. Also, I will need an ironbound box. Not too big, but one I can strap to my stomach.”
“Stomach?” Joan managed to get out. “You can’t think—Haven’t I explained to you that he is nearly dead, that he can’t be rescued? You can’t take a bench to him and think no one will notice. Food, perhaps, but—” Judith’s look stopped her. She was a small woman, but when those gold eyes turned as hard as that, there was no disobeying her. “Yes, my lady,” Joan said meekly. “A bench, boots, a servant’s garments and…an iron box to fit your stomach,” she said sarcastically.
“Yes, to fit my stomach,” Judith said without humor. “Now help me dress.” She lifted a yellow silk underdress from the large chest by the bed. There were twenty pearl buttons running from wrist to elbow. Over it she slipped a gown of tawny gold velvet with wide, hanging sleeves. A belt of brown silk cords threaded with pearls hung from her waist to the ground.
Joan took an ivory comb and began to arrange her mistress’s hair. “Don’t let him know you care anything for Lord Gavin.”
“I don’t need to be told that. Go now and find the things I want. And don’t let anyone see you with them.”
“I can’t carry a bench about in secrecy.”
“Joan!”
“Yes, my lady, I will do as I am told.”
Hours later after he’d spen
d the morning escorting her through stables and dairies Walter said, “My lady, you must be tired; surely all this must have little interest for you.”
“Oh, but it does!” Judith smiled. “The walls are so thick,” she said with wide-eyed innocence. The castle was of the simplest form. It contained one large four-story stone tower set inside a single twelve-foot-thick wall. There were a few men atop the walls, but they looked sleepy and not very alert.
“Perhaps my lady would like to inspect the armor of the knights and look for flaws,” Arthur said as he watched her.
Judith managed to keep her face blank. “I don’t understand what you mean, sir,” she said in confusion.
“Nor do I, Arthur!” Walter added.
Arthur didn’t answer, but merely stared at Judith. She knew she had an enemy. He had easily seen through her interest in the fortifications. She turned to Walter, “I believe I’m more tired than I thought. It was indeed a long journey here. Perhaps I should rest.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Judith wanted to get away from him, be rid of his hand, so often on her arm or her waist. Gratefully, she left him at her chamber door. She fell upon the bed fully dressed. All morning her mind had been full of what Joan had told her of Gavin. She could imagine him half-dead from the filth of the hideous place where he was kept.
The door opened, but she paid it no attention. A noblewoman was rarely allowed privacy. Maids always slipped in and out of her room. She gasped when a male hand touched her neck.
“My lord Walter!” she cried, looking quickly about the room.
“Have no fear,” he said quietly. “We are alone. I’ve seen to that. The servants know my punishments are harsh if I’m disobeyed.”
Judith was flustered.
“Do you fear me?” he asked, his eyes dancing. “You have no need to. Don’t you know I love you? I have loved you since I first saw you. I waited in the procession that followed you to church. Shall I tell you how you looked to me?” He picked up a curl of her hair and wound it around his arm. “You stepped into the sunlight, and it was as if that light darkened when presented with your greater radiance. Your gold dress, your gold eyes.”
He held up the strand of hair, rubbing it with the fingers of his other hand against his palm. “How I wanted to touch this fine stuff then. It was then that I knew you were meant to be mine. Yet you married another!” he accused.
Judith was frightened, not of him or what he could do to her, but of what she’d lose if he took her now. She buried her face in her hands as if she were weeping.
“My lady! My sweet Judith. Forgive me. What have I done?” Walter asked in bewilderment.
She made an effort to recover herself. “I am the one to ask forgiveness. It is just that men…”
“Men what? You can tell me. I am your friend.”
“Are you?” she asked, her eyes pleading and excessively innocent.
“Yes,” Walter whispered, devouring her as best he could.
“I have never had a man friend before. First my father and my brother’s—No! I won’t speak ill of them.”
“There is no need,” Walter said as he touched the back of her hand with his fingertips. “I knew them well.”
“And then my husband!” Judith said fiercely.
Walter blinked at her. “Do you dislike him then? Is it true?”
Her eyes flashed as she looked at him with such hatred he was taken aback. It was almost as if it were meant for him instead of her husband.
“All men are the same!” she said angrily. “They want only one thing from a woman, and if she doesn’t give it, she is forced. Do you know how vile rape is to a woman?”
“No, I—” Walter was confused.
“Men know little of the finer things of life—music and art. I wish I could believe there was a man somewhere on earth who didn’t paw at me and make demands.”
Walter gave her a shrewd look. “And if you found such a man how would you reward him?”
She smiled sweetly. “I would love him with all my heart,” she said simply.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Judith lowered her eyes. “Then I will hold you to that,” he said quietly. “For I would do a lot to have your heart.”
“It has belonged to no one else,” Judith whispered.
He released her hand and stood. “Then I will leave you to your rest. Remember, I’m your friend and I will be near if you need me.”
As he left the room, Joan slipped inside. “Lady Judith! He hasn’t…?”
“No, nothing happened,” she said as she leaned back against the headboard. “I talked him out of what he wanted.”
“Talked! You must tell me—. No, do not. I would never need to know how to talk a man from making love to me. Whatever you did was good. Can you keep him from you, though?”
“I don’t know. He thinks I’m a cowering simpleton, and I don’t know how long I can keep up the deception. I hate myself when I lie like that!” Judith turned to her maid. “Is everything prepared for tonight?”
“Yes, though it wasn’t easy.”
“You will be well rewarded when we leave here, if we do. Now find some other women and prepare me a bath. I must scrub wherever that man has touched me.”
John Bassett paced the floor of the room, his footsteps heavy. The toe of his soft slippers caught at something buried in the rushes, and he kicked at it in wrath. A beef bone, old and dry, went flying against the far wall. “A lady’s maid.” he cursed. Locked inside a room, allowed no freedom, his only company a woman who cowered from him.
Truthfully, it wasn’t her fault that he was there. He turned and looked at her, huddled under a coverlet before the brazier. He knew her long skirts hid a badly sprained ankle which she had not allowed her daughter to see.
Suddenly his anger left him. It did him no good to let it eat at him. “I am poor company,” he said as he moved a stool to the far side of the brazier and sat down. Helen looked at him with frightened eyes. He knew of her husband, and he was ashamed that he also had scared her. “It’s not you who angers me, but that daughter of yours. How could a quiet and sensible woman such as yourself breed such a stubborn wench? She sought to rescue two prisoners, but now she has three to save—and with no more help than that hot-blooded maid of hers.”
He turned and saw Helen was smiling, a smile of pure pride. “You take pride in such a daughter?” he asked, astonished.
“Yes, I do. She is afraid of nothing. And she always thinks of others first.”
“She should have been taught to fear,” John said fiercely. “Fear is good at times.”
“If she were yours, how would you have taught her?”
“I would have—” John began. Obviously, beating was not the answer; he was sure Robert Revedoune had caused her a great deal of pain. He turned to Helen and smiled. “I don’t believe she could have been taught. But if she were mine…” He smiled more broadly. “I would be proud of her, if she were mine. Though I doubt such beauty could have come from something as ugly as me.”
“Oh, but you are not the least ugly,” Helen said, her cheeks turning pink.
John stared at her, not having really looked at her before. The first time he’d seen her, at the wedding, he’d dismissed her as being haggard and plain, but now he could see she was neither. A month away from Robert Revedoune had done her much good. She didn’t seem so nervous as before, and her hollow cheeks were filling out. Except for the widow’s peak, her hair was covered, but he could see it was auburn, darker than her daughter’s. And her eyes seemed to have tiny gold flecks in them.
“You stare at me, sir?”
With his usual bluntness, John said what he thought. “You are not old.”
“I will be thirty-three years old this year,” she answered. “That is an old woman.”
“Bah! I remember a forty-year-old woman who—” He stopped and smiled. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell a lady that story. But thirty-three years is far from being old.??
? He had an idea. “Do you know you are a rich woman now? You are a widow with great estates. Soon you will have men pounding at your door.”
“No,” she laughed, her cheeks flaming. “You jest.”
“A rich as well as a beautiful widow,” he teased. “Lord Gavin will have to cut through them to find you a husband.”
“Husband?” Helen suddenly sobered.
“Here!” John commanded. “Don’t look like that. Few are like that villain you married.”
She blinked at what she should have considered rudeness; but coming from John, it was a statement of fact.
“Lord Gavin will find a good man for you.”
She stared at him as if in speculation. “Were you ever married, John?”
He waited a moment before answering. “Yes, once when I was very young. She died of the plague.”
“No children?”
“No. None.”
“Did you…love her?” Helen asked timidly.
“No,” he responded honestly. “She was a simpleminded child. It has long been a fault of mine that I cannot bear stupidity—in a man or a horse or a woman.” He chuckled at some private thought. “Once I made a boast that I would lay my heart before a woman who could play a good game of chess. Do you know, I even once played a game with Queen Elizabeth?”
“And did she win?”
“No,” he said in disgust. “She couldn’t keep her mind on the game. I tried to teach Gavin and his brothers the game, but they are worse than some women. Only their father gave me a challenge.”
Helen looked at him seriously. “I know the game. At least I know the moves.”
“You?”
“Yes. I taught Judith to play, though she could never beat me. She was as the queen, always worrying about another problem. She couldn’t give the proper concentration the game deserved.”
John hesitated.
“If we are to spend some time here, perhaps you can give me lessons. I would appreciate any help.”
John sighed. Maybe it was a good idea at that. At least it would help pass the time.
Chapter Seventeen