“I don’t understand how life in a nunnery could prepare you for what you’ve done here. I would have thought you spent your days in prayer.”
She smiled down at him as he sat in the gravel path beside her. It was getting lighter now, the sky beginning to turn a rosy pink. She could hear the clatter of the servants in the distance. “Most men feel that the worst thing that could happen to a woman would be to deprive them of a man’s company. I assure you that a nun’s life is far from empty. Look at St. Anne’s. Who do you think runs those estates?”
“I never thought about it.”
“The prioress manages estates that make the king’s look poor. Yours and mine together could fit into a corner of St. Anne’s. My mother took me to meet the prioress last year. I spent a week at her side. She is a constantly busy woman ordering the work of thousands of men and acres of land. She does not”—Judith’s eyes sparkled—“have time for woman’s work.”
Gavin was startled for a moment then he began to laugh. “A thrust well delivered.” What had Raine said about her sense of humor? “I stand corrected.”
“I’d think you’d know more about a nunnery since your sister lives there.”
A special glow came over Gavin’s face when his sister was mentioned. He smiled. “I cannot imagine Mary running anyone’s estates. Even as a child, she was so sweet and shy that she seemed of another world.”
“And so you let her enter a convent.”
“It was her wish, and when I inherited from my father, she left us. I wanted her to remain here and not marry if she didn’t want to, but she wanted to be near the sisters.”
Gavin stared at his wife, thinking that she had come very close to spending her life in a convent. The sunlight caught fire in her auburn hair; the way she looked at him, without anger or hatred, made his breath catch.
“Ow!” Judith broke the spell as she looked down at her finger, nicked on a rose thorn.
“Let me see,” Gavin said as he took her small hand in his larger one. He brushed away a drop of blood from her fingertip then raised it to his lips, as he looked into her eyes.
“Good morning!”
Both of them looked up at the window above the garden.
“I hate to disturb your lovemaking,” Raine called down from the manor house, “but my men seem to have forgotten me. And with this damned leg, I am little more than a prisoner.”
Judith pulled her hand from Gavin’s and looked away, her cheeks, for some reason, flushing.
“I will go and help him,” Gavin said as he stood. “Raine says he is leaving today. Maybe I can hurry him along. Will you ride with me this morning to choose a mare?”
She nodded her head but didn’t look at him before he left the garden.
“I see you’re making some progress with your wife,” Raine said as Gavin roughly helped him down the stairs.
“It would have been more if someone hadn’t started bellowing out the window,” Gavin remarked bitterly.
Raine snorted with laughter. His leg hurt and he didn’t look forward to the long journey to another estate, so he was in a bad mood. “You didn’t even spend the night with her.”
“Of what concern is that to you? Since when do you notice where I sleep?”
“Since I met Judith.”
“Raine, if you—”
“Don’t even say it. Why do you think I am going when my leg hasn’t even begun to heal?”
Gavin smiled. “She is lovely, isn’t she? In a few days I will have her eating out of my hand; then you’ll see where I sleep. A woman is like a hawk. You must starve it until it is eager for food; then it will be easily tamed.”
Raine stopped on the stairs, his arm about Gavin’s shoulder. “You are a fool, brother. You may be the biggest fool ever created. Don’t you know that the master is often the servant of his hawk? How many times have you seen men carry their favorite hawk about on their wrists, even in church?”
“You talk nonsense,” Gavin said, “and I don’t like being called a fool.”
Raine set his teeth together as Gavin jerked his leg. “Judith is worth two of you and a hundred of that icy bitch you think you love.”
Gavin stopped at the foot of the steps, gave his brother a malevolent look and moved away so quickly Raine had to grab the wall to keep from falling. “Don’t you speak of Alice again!” Gavin said in a deadly voice.
“I damned well will speak of her! Someone needs to. She is ruining your life and Judith’s happiness. And Alice isn’t worth a strand of Judith’s hair.”
Gavin raised his fist then dropped it. “It’s good that you’re leaving today. I won’t listen to anymore about my women from you.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.
“Your women!” Raine called after him. “One owns your soul and the other you treat with contempt. How can you call them yours?”
Chapter Eleven
THERE WERE TEN HORSES INSIDE THE FENCED AREA. EACH one was sleek and strong with long legs that inspired visions of the animals running across flowery fields.
“I am to choose one, my lord?” Judith asked as she leaned across the fence rail. She looked up at Gavin beside her, watching him suspiciously. All morning he had been exceptionally pleasant; first in the garden, and now as he gave her a gift. He’d helped her on the mount, taken her arm when she, in an unladylike gesture, climbed atop the rails. She could understand his irritation, his scowls, but she was quite leery of this new kindness.
“Any one that you want,” Gavin answered, smiling at her. “They have all been gentled and are ready for a bridle and saddle. Do you see one you like?”
She looked back at the horses. “There isn’t one I don’t like. It’s not easy to choose. I think that one, the black one.”
Gavin smiled at her choice, a mare with a high-stepping, dainty gait. “She is yours,” he said. Then, before he could help her down, Judith was on the ground and through the gate. Within minutes, Gavin’s man had the mare saddled and Judith swung onto her animal’s back.
It felt wonderful to ride a good horse again. To Judith’s right lay the road to the castle; to her left, the dense forest, a hunting ground for the Montgomeries. Without thought, she took the road to the forest. For too long she had been confined inside walls and jammed between people. The great oaks and beeches looked inviting, their branches connecting overhead to form a private shelter. Judith did not look back to see if she was being followed, but only plunged ahead toward the waiting freedom.
She rode hard, testing the mare and herself. They were compatible, as she knew they would be. The horse enjoyed the run as much as Judith.
“Quiet now, sweet one,” Judith whispered when they were well inside the forest. The mare obeyed, daintily picking her way between the trees and bushes. The ground was covered by ferns and hundreds of years of accumulated foliage. It was a soft carpet and a silent one. Judith breathed deeply of the clean, cool air and let her mount decide the way.
The sound of running water caught Judith’s attention, as well as her mare’s. A stream, deep and cool, ran swiftly between the trees, sunlight playing through the overhanging branches. She dismounted and led her horse to the water. As the mare quietly drank, Judith pulled handfuls of sweet grass and began to rub the sides of the horse. They had galloped hard for several minutes before reaching the forest, and the mare was sweaty.
Judith was engrossed in her pleasant task, glorying in her horse, the day, the roaring water. The mare perked up her ears and listened, then backed away nervously.
“Quiet, girl,” Judith said, stroking the soft neck. The horse took another, sharper step backward, threw her head back and neighed. Judith whirled, grabbing at the reins of the frightened animal and missed.
A wild boar approached, sniffing the air. It was wounded, its tiny eyes glassy with pain. Judith tried again to get the reins of her horse but the boar began its charge and the mare, wild with fear, took off. She grabbed her skirts and began to run. But the charging pig was faster than she. Judith m
ade a running leap at a low-hanging tree branch, caught it and began to pull herself up. Strong from a lifetime of work and exercise, she swung her legs to another branch just as the boar reached her. It was no easy task to keep herself on the tree as the crazed boar charged and recharged the trunk at her feet.
Finally, Judith was able to stand on the lowest branch while holding onto another one above her head. As she looked down at the boar, she realized she was very high off the ground. She stared with sightless fear, her knuckles turning white as she grasped the overhead branch with all her strength.
“We must spread out,” Gavin ordered his man, John Bassett. “There’s not enough of us to go in pairs, and she couldn’t have gone far.” Gavin tried to keep his voice level. He was angry at his wife for galloping away on a strange horse into a forest unknown to her. He’d stood with the horses and his men, watching her ride away. He expected that as soon as she reached the edge of the woods, she would return. It took him a moment to realize that Judith was going into the forest.
Now he could not find her. It was as if she’d vanished, swallowed by the trees. “John, you go north, around the edge of the trees. Odo, take the south. I’ll try the center.”
Inside, the forest was quiet. Gavin listened carefully for any sign of her. He’d spent a great deal of his life here and knew every inch of the woods. He knew the mare would probably head for the stream that ran through its center. He called Judith several times, but there was no answer.
Then his stallion pricked up his ears. “What is it, boy?” Gavin questioned, listening hard. The horse took a step backward, his nostrils flaring. The animal was trained in hunting, and Gavin recognized the signals. “Not now,” he said. “Later we’ll look for game.”
The horse didn’t seem to understand, but pulled his head down against the reins. Gavin frowned then let him have his head. He heard the sound of the boar rooting at the base of the tree before he saw it. He would have led his mount around the beast had his eye not caught sight of a bit of blue in the tree above.
“God’s teeth!” he whispered as he realized Judith was pinned in the tree. “Judith!” he called but got no answer. “You’ll be safe in a moment.”
His horse put its head down in anticipation of the charge, while Gavin drew his longsword from the scabbard on the side of the saddle. The stallion, well trained, ran very close to the boar and Gavin leaned half out of the saddle, his powerful thighs gripping hard as he bent and sent the sword through the animal’s spine. It squealed once and kicked before it died.
Gavin jumped quickly from the saddle and retrieved the weapon. He looked up at Judith and was astonished at the sheer terror on her face. “Judith, it’s all right now. The boar is dead. He can’t hurt you.” Her terror seemed out of reason with the danger. She had been safe enough in the tree.
She didn’t answer but kept staring at the ground, her body as rigid as his iron lance.
“Judith!” he said sharply. “Are you hurt?”
Still she neither answered nor acknowledged his presence.
“It’s only a short jump,” he said as he held his arms up for her. “Let go of the branch above and I’ll catch you.”
She didn’t move.
Gavin was puzzled as he looked again at the dead boar, then up at his terrified wife. Something besides the pig frightened her. “Judith,” he said quietly and moved so he was in the line of her vacant stare. “Is it the high place that frightens you?” He wasn’t sure, but she seemed to move her head in a tiny nod. Gavin grabbed the lowest branch near her feet and easily swung himself up beside her. He put his arm about her waist, but she gave no hint that she was aware of him.
“Judith, listen to me,” he said calmly and quietly. “I’m going to take your hands and lower you to the ground. You must trust me. Don’t be afraid.” He had to pry her hands loose and she grabbed onto both of his hands in panic. Gavin braced himself against a branch, and lowered Judith to the ground.
Her feet had no sooner touched the earth than he jumped down beside her. She was trembling as he pulled her into his arms. She clutched at him fiercely, desperately. “Hush, now,” he whispered as he stroked her head. “You’re safe now.” Judith’s trembling didn’t stop, and Gavin felt her knees give way. He lifted her into his arms, and carried her to a tree stump, where he sat and held her as if she were a child. He’d had little experience with women outside of bed and none with children, but he knew her fear was extraordinary.
He held Judith tightly, as tightly as he could without crushing her. He smoothed her hair away from her cheek where she’d begun to perspire, her face hot. He rocked her and held her even closer. Had someone told him that being only a few feet off the ground could cause such terror, he would have laughed, but now he didn’t find it amusing. Judith’s fear was very real and his heart went out to her, that she should suffer so. Her small body was shaking, her heart beating as wildly as a bird’s and he knew he must make her feel safe again. Gavin began to sing, quietly at first, not really paying attention to the words. His voice was rich and soothing. He sang a love song, of a man returning from the Crusades to find his true love waiting for him.
Gradually, he felt Judith begin to relax against him, the awful trembling subsiding. Her hold on him loosened, but Gavin didn’t release her. He smiled and kissed her temple as he hummed the tune. Her breathing became more even until she lifted her head from his shoulder. She pushed away, but he held her firmly, not wanting to release her. Judith’s need of him was oddly reassuring, although Gavin would have said he didn’t like clinging women.
“You will think that I’m a fool,” she said softly.
He didn’t answer.
“I don’t like high places,” Judith continued.
He smiled and hugged her to him. “I guessed that,” he laughed. “Though I would say that ‘like’ was a mild word. Why are you so afraid of high places?” He was laughing now, glad that she had recovered. Gavin was startled when she stiffened. “What have I said? Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not,” she said sadly, relaxing again, comfortable in his arms. “I don’t like to think of my father—that’s all.”
Gavin pushed her head back to his shoulder. “Tell me about it,” he said seriously.
Judith was quiet for a moment, then when she did speak, he could hardly hear her. “Actually, I remember little of it—only the fear remains with me. My maids told me of it many years later. I was three years old and something disturbed my sleep. I left the room and went to the great hall, which was alive with light and music. My father was there with his friends and all of them were drunk.” Her voice was cold, as if she told a story about someone else.
“When my father saw me, he seemed to think it a great joke. He called for a ladder and carried me, under his arm, to the top of it and set me on a high windowsill, well above the hall. As I said, I remember none of this. My father and his friends fell asleep, and in the morning the maids searched for me. It was a long time before they found me, though I must have heard them call. It seems I was too frightened to speak.”
Gavin stroked her hair and began to rock her again. The thought of a man setting a three-year-old child twenty feet above the floor, then leaving her all night, made his stomach turn over. He grabbed her shoulders and held Judith away from him. “But you are safe now. See, the ground is quite near.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “You have been good to me. Thank you.”
Her thanks did not please him. It saddened Gavin that she had been so harshly used in her short life that she felt her husband’s comforting was a gift. “You have not seen my woods. What do you say we stay here awhile?”
“But there is work—”
“You are a demon for work. Don’t you ever play?”
“I’m not sure I know how,” she responded honestly.
“Well, today you will learn. Today shall be for picking wildflowers and watching the birds mate.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Judith gave a very un-Judith-like gig
gle. Gavin was enchanted. Her eyes were warm, her lips sweetly curved, and her beauty was an intoxicating sight. “Then come,” he said as he lifted her to set her on her feet. “There is a hillside nearby that is covered with flowers and some rather extraordinary birds.”
When Judith’s feet touched the ground, her left ankle buckled beneath her. She grabbed Gavin’s arm for support.
“You’re hurt,” he said as he knelt to look at her ankle. He turned and saw Judith bite her lip. “We’ll put it in the cold stream water. That should keep it from swelling.” He swept her into his arms.
“I can walk if you’ll help me a bit.”
“And have my knighthood taken from me? We are taught, you know, in the ways of courtly love. The rules are quite firm about beautiful ladies in distress. They must be carried whenever possible.”
“Then I am only a means to further your knightly status?” Judith asked seriously.
“Of course, since you are a great burden to tote about. You must weigh as much as my horse.”
“I do not!” she protested vehemently then saw his eyes were sparkling. “You’re teasing me!”
“Didn’t I say the day was for merriment?”
She smiled and leaned against his shoulder. It was pleasant to be held so close.
Gavin set her at the edge of the stream, then carefully removed her shoe. “The hose must go,” he smirked. He watched with delight as Judith raised the skirt of her long gown to reveal the top of her hose, tied with a garter just above the knee. “If you need assistance…” he leered as she rolled the silk tube off her leg.
Judith watched Gavin as he gently bathed her foot in the cold water. Who was this man who touched her so gently? He could not be the man who had slapped her, who had flaunted his mistress before her, who had raped her on their marriage night.
“It doesn’t seem to be hurt badly,” he said as he looked back at her.
“No, it doesn’t,” she said quietly.
A sudden breeze blew a lock of hair across her eyes. Gently, Gavin brushed it away. “What do you say I build a fire and we roast that hideous pig?”