Judith squared her shoulders, her chin held high. “What choice do you have? If Miles were to lead an attack, Demari would surely put Gavin to death, as well as my mother. Do you love Gavin so little that you don’t care whether he dies or not?”
Suddenly John knew she was right. And he knew that he would be the one to turn her over to Walter Demari’s bloody hands. She had struck John’s heart when she mentioned love for Lord Gavin. John couldn’t love the young man more if he were his own son. She was right that there was a chance to save Lord Gavin if she surrendered herself. Lord Gavin might have him hanged for endangering Judith, but he knew he was going to obey her. “You are trying for martyrdom,” John said quietly. “What is to keep Demari from killing you also?”
Judith smiled at him, put her hands on his shoulder, for she also knew she’d won. “If he killed me, he would lose the Revedoune lands. If I have learned nothing else, I know how much men will do for my property.” Her eyes glinted for a moment. “Now, come inside where we may talk more freely. You and I have a great deal of planning to do.”
He followed her dumbly. She acted as if they prepared the menu for a woodland picnic rather than gave herself, as a lamb to slaughter, to a butcher.
Judith wanted to leave immediately, but John persuaded her to wait and give him and his men some rest. Truthfully, he hoped to talk her out of her madness and to find an alternate plan, but her logic bewildered him.
For every reason he gave that she should not go, Judith gave ten more sensible ones why she should. And he agreed with her; he could see no other way of any chance of saving the prisoners…if they were prisoners.
But oh, how he dreaded Lord Gavin’s wrath! He said as much to Lady Judith. She laughed. “If he is safe enough to indulge his anger, I will kiss his hand in thanksgiving.”
John shook his head in wonder. The woman was too clever by half again. He didn’t envy Lord Gavin the taming of her.
They couldn’t take many men as a guard—they could not leave the estate unprotected—and already many of Gavin’s knights waited for him. They were thankful it was only two days’ travel to Demari’s property.
Judith worked hard while John rested and ate. She ordered the loading of several wagons of grain and preserved meats to be prepared at the campsite. Another cart was given over to her clothes; the most beautiful of silks, velvets, brocades, cashmeres, along with a large ironbound chest filled with jewels.
When John mumbled something about women being ostentatious, Judith took him to task.
“Walter Demari hungers for some woman he believes to be beautiful. Would you like me to appear before him in homespun? He would say he’d changed his mind and have me thrown to the bottom of a well. He must be a vain man, or he wouldn’t demand that a woman he hardly knows repudiate her husband and claim him as her true love. Therefore, I will play to his vanity and wear my most exquisite clothes for him.”
John stared at her a moment, then turned away. He didn’t know whether to praise her or be angry at himself for not thinking of what she said first.
For all the facade she showed to the world, Judith was scared. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of any alternative plan.
She lay awake all night thinking. Demari had sent no message of exchange. Perhaps he had already killed Gavin and Helen, and Judith was turning herself over to him for no reason.
She ran her hands over her stomach, knew it was still hard and flat. She was sure now that she carried Gavin’s child. Was the baby part of the reason she worked to save her husband?
When the sun rose, Judith dressed slowly in a practical wool gown. She was strangely sedate, almost as if she walked to certain death. She went below to the little chapel for mass. She would pray for all of them—her husband, her mother and her unborn child.
Walter Demari sat before a wooden table in the great hall of his father’s estate. Once the table had been a finely carved piece, but over time most of the heads of the beasts had been broken away, the necks rubbed smooth. Absently, Walter kicked at a chicken that pecked at the hose on his short, thin legs. He studied the parchment in front of him and refused to look at his surroundings. His father refused to give him anything but this run-down, neglected old tower. Walter buried his resentment deeply and concentrated on the task before him. When he was wed to the heiress to the Revedoune lands, then his father wouldn’t dismiss him as if he didn’t exist.
Behind Walter stood Arthur Smiton, a man Walter considered his friend. Arthur had helped Walter at every turn, agreeing that Walter should have had the lovely heiress instead of Gavin Montgomery. To repay Arthur for his loyalty, Walter had made the man his chief vassal. It was Arthur who had succeeded in capturing Lord Gavin.
“Arthur,” Demari complained, “I don’t know how to word the message. What if she won’t come? If she does hate her husband, why should she risk so much for him?”
Arthur didn’t let his emotions show. “Do you forget the old woman we hold? Isn’t she the girl’s mother?”
“Yes,” Walter said and returned his attention to the parchment before him. It wasn’t easy asking what he did. He wanted marriage to the Lady Judith in exchange for the freedom of her husband and mother.
Arthur stood behind Walter for a moment, then moved away to pour himself a cup of wine. He needed a firm stomach to be able to withstand Walter’s mewling. The love-sick young man made Arthur ill. Walter had come back from the Montgomery-Revedoune wedding so enthralled with the bride that he’d hardly been able to do anything except talk of her. Arthur looked on him with disgust. Walter had everything—lands, wealth, a family, hope for the future. He was not like Arthur, who had pulled himself up from the muck that had been his family. Anything he had he’d acquired through intelligence, physical strength and, quite often, treachery and lying. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted. When he’d seen the spineless Walter mooning about a bit of a girl, Arthur developed a plan.
It hadn’t taken long to learn of the quarrels the new bride had with her husband. Arthur, only a knight in Walter’s garrison, had found a ready ear when he spoke of an annulment and a second marriage to Walter. Arthur couldn’t have cared less about the girl, but the Revedoune lands were worth any amount of fighting. Walter hadn’t wanted to attack Robert Revedoune, but Arthur knew Revedoune would stop at nothing to keep his daughter wed to the Montgomery family. It had been easy to kill the old man once he allowed them, as friends, inside his castle walls. His wife Helen had followed docilely and Arthur laughed, recognizing a well-trained woman when he saw one. He admired Revedoune for that.
“My lord,” a nervous servant announced, “there are visitors outside.”
“Visitors?” Walter asked, his eyes hazy.
“Yes, my lord. It is the Lady Judith Montgomery, surrounded by her men-at-arms.”
Walter jumped up, the writing table upset, as he started after the servant.
Arthur grabbed his arm. “I pray you, my lord, take care. Perhaps it’s a trap.”
Walter’s eyes burned. “What trap could there be? The men won’t fight and endanger their lady.”
“Perhaps the lady herself…”
Walter jerked away from him. “You go too far. Be careful you don’t find yourself in the cellar with Lord Gavin.” Stormily, he left the old tower, kicking sawdust-dry rushes out of his way. Arthur’s word of caution had penetrated his brain, and now he ran up the narrow stone stairs to the top of the wall in order to be sure it was indeed the Lady Judith who waited below.
There was no mistaking her. The auburn hair that flowed down her back was not to be confused with anyone else’s. “It is she,” he whispered excitedly, then seemingly flew down the stairs, across the bailey to the front gate.
“Open it, man!” he bellowed to the gatekeeper. “And be quick about it!” The heavy iron-tipped portcullis was drawn upward slowly, Walter waiting impatiently.
“My lord,” Arthur said at his side. “You can’t let her bring her men inside. Th
ere are over a hundred of them. We could be attacked from within.”
Walter turned his eyes away from the gate that creaked in protest as it rose. He knew Arthur was right, yet he wasn’t sure what else to do.
Arthur fixed the weak blue eyes with his own dark ones. “I will ride out to meet her. You can’t be risked. I will ride no farther than the range of the crossbowmen. When I’m sure it is the Lady Judith, my men and I will escort her through the gate.”
“Alone?” Walter asked eagerly.
“She may have a personal guard if she so insists, but none other. We cannot allow her whole garrison to enter,” he repeated.
The portcullis was up, the drawbridge down as Arthur mounted his horse and rode out, followed by five other knights.
Judith sat very still on her mount as she watched the raising of the gate. It took every ounce of her courage not to turn away. The old castle might be crumbling in places, but it looked very formidable when she was so close to it. She felt as if it was about to swallow her.
“There is time yet to leave, my lady,” John Bassett observed as he leaned forward.
Six men were riding toward her, and she very much wanted to turn away. Then her stomach turned over and she had to swallow a sudden attack of nausea. Her child was reminding her of its presence. The baby’s father and grandmother were inside those old walls and, if she could, she was going to get them out.
“No,” she said to John with more strength than she actually felt. “I must attempt the task.”
When the leader of the approaching men was close to Judith, she knew at once that he was the instigator of the whole plot. She remembered Walter as mild and meek but this man’s mocking dark eyes showed no weakness. His clothes flashed with jewels; every color, every variety and size. His dark hair was covered by a small velvet cap, whose wide band on it held at least a hundred jewels. It looked almost like a crown.
“My lady,” he said, bowing as he sat atop his horse. His smile was mocking, almost insulting.
Judith stared at him, her heart beating quickly. There was a coldness in his eyes that frightened her. He would not be one to easily overrule.
“I am Sir Arthur Smiton, chief vassal to Lord Walter Demari. He bids you welcome.”
Welcome! Judith thought, controlling herself not to spit the word at him, thinking of her father butchered, her husband and mother held captive, several lives already lost. She inclined her head toward him. “You hold my mother captive?”
He looked at her speculatively, as if he tried to take her measure. She’d been sent no message, yet she knew what was needed.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then I will go to her.” Judith urged her horse forward, but Arthur grabbed the bridle.
To a man, the one hundred knights who surrounded Judith drew their swords.
Arthur didn’t lose his smile. “You can’t think to enter our gates with so many men.”
“You would have me go alone?” she asked, aghast. It was what she’d expected, but perhaps she could persuade Smiton to allow some of her men to accompany her. “You would perhaps have me leave my maid behind? Or my personal guard?”
He watched her intently. “One man. One woman. No more.”
She nodded, knowing it was no use to argue. At least John Bassett would be with her. “Joan,” she called as she turned and saw the girl eyeing Arthur speculatively. “Prepare the cart with my goods and follow me. John—” She turned and saw that he was already giving orders for the establishment of a camp outside the castle walls.
Judith rode across the drawbridge, under the arched stone gate, with her back straight. She wondered if she would ever leave the walls alive. Walter Demari stood waiting to help her dismount. She remembered him as a gentle young man, neither handsome nor ugly; but now his blue eyes showed weakness, his nose was too big, and his thin lips looked cruel.
He stared at her. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered.”
She had dressed carefully that morning. A band of pearls encircled her head. Close to her body she wore a red silk petticoat with a wide border of white fur. Her gown was of maroon velvet, the hem embroidered with gold scrollwork. The sleeves were tight except at the shoulder, where the velvet was slit and the red silk pulled through. The neck was cut deep, her breasts swelling above the fabric. When she walked, she lifted the velvet overskirt and exposed the fur-trimmed silk beneath.
Judith managed to smile at this man of treachery, even as she twisted away from the hands about her waist. “You flatter me, my lord,” she said, while looking at him through her lashes.
Walter was enchanted. “You must be tired and in need of refreshment. We would have had food prepared, but you weren’t expected.”
Judith didn’t want him to think about why she came without a request. As she watched Walter’s adoring look, she knew she would do well in establishing herself to be a shy young woman, the bashful bride. “Please,” she said, her head bowed, “I would like to see my mother.”
Walter didn’t answer, but continued staring at her, her thick lashes touching her soft cheek, the pearls on her forehead echoing the creaminess of her skin.
John Bassett stepped forward, his jaw rigid. He was a big man, as tall as Gavin, but heavier with age. The steel-gray of his hair only emphasized the hardness of his body. “The lady wishes to see her mother,” he said sternly. His voice was even, but it radiated power.
Walter hardly noticed John, he was too enraptured with Judith. But Arthur was very aware of him and recognized danger. John Bassett would need to be disposed immediately. Given the freedom of the castle, such a man could cause much trouble.
“Of course, my lady,” Walter said, holding his arm out to her. One would have thought her visit was one of pleasure.
They made their way to the second-floor entrance of the tower; for in time of battle, the wooden steps were cut away to make the entrance several feet from the ground. Judith studied the interior as they walked across the great hall toward the stone steps. It was a filthy place, littered with bits of bone among the dry rushes on the floor. Dogs lazily nosed about the refuse. The deeply recessed windows had no wooden shutters, and in places the stones had fallen away, because the chinking was crumbling. She wondered if such a poor structure was indicative of the guardianship of the place. She meant to find out.
Helen sat in a chair in a little room cut into the thick stone walls on the third floor. Charcoal burned in a brass brazier; the tower had been built before fireplaces were known.
“Mother!” Judith whispered and ran forward to place her head against her mother’s knees.
“My daughter,” Helen gasped, then pulled Judith into her arms. It was a while before their tears quieted enough so they could speak. “You are well?”
Judith nodded, then looked past her mother to the men who stood there. “Are we to have no privacy?”
“Of course,” Walter said then turned toward the door. “You will leave also,” he said to John Bassett.
“No. I will not leave my lady alone.”
Walter frowned, but he didn’t want to upset Judith in any way.
“You should have left with them,” Judith said sternly when Walter and Arthur were gone.
John sat heavily in a chair by the charcoal brazier. “I will not leave you alone.”
“But I wish for some privacy with my mother!”
John neither spoke nor looked at her.
“He is a stubborn man,” Judith said disgustedly to Helen.
“Is it stubborn when I don’t let you have your way at all times?” he asked. “You are stubborn enough to rival a bull.”
Judith opened her mouth to speak, but Helen’s laugh stopped her.
“You are indeed well, my daughter.” She turned to John. “Judith is all I have ever wanted her to be, and more,” she said fondly, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Now tell me why you are here.”
“I…Oh, Mother,” she began, tears starting in her eyes again.
“Wh
at is it? You can speak freely.”
“No, I cannot!” she said passionately as she looked over at John so close by.
John gave her a look of such blackness that she was almost afraid of him. “Do not doubt my honesty. Talk to your mother. No word of what I hear will be repeated.”
Knowing she could trust him, Judith relaxed as she sat on a cushion at her mother’s feet. She wanted to talk, desperately needed to talk. “I have broken a vow to God,” she said softly.
Helen’s hand paused for a moment on her daughter’s head. “Tell me of it,” she whispered.
The words tumbled over themselves trying to escape. Judith told how she had tried again and again for some degree of love in her marriage, yet she had been thwarted at every effort. Nothing she did could loosen the hold Alice Chatworth had over Gavin.
“And your vow?” Helen asked.
“I vowed I would give nothing to him that he did not take. But I freely went to him the night before he came here.” She blushed, thinking of that night of love, Gavin’s hands and lips on her body.
“Judith, do you love him?”
“I don’t know. I hate him, I love him, I despise him, I adore him. I don’t know. He is so big—there is so much of him—that he devours me. I am always aware of him. When he enters a room, he fills it. Even when I hate him the most, when I see him holding another woman or reading a letter from her, I cannot rid myself of him. Is this love?” she asked as she gazed beseechingly up at her mother. “Is it love or merely possession by the devil? He is not kind to me. I’m sure he has no love for me. He has even told me so. The only place he is good to me is—”
“In bed?” Helen smiled.
“Yes,” Judith said and looked away, her cheeks red.
It was several moments before Helen replied. “You ask me of love. Who knows less of it than I? Your father also had such a hold on me. Did you know that one time I saved his life? The night before he had beaten me, and the next morning, as I rode out with him, my eye was black and swollen. We rode alone, away from the escort, and Robert’s horse bolted and threw him. He fell into the swamp along the north edge of one of the estates. The more he moved, the deeper he sank. My whole body ached from his beating, and my first thought was to ride away and let him die. But I couldn’t. Do you know, he laughed at me, called me a fool when I’d saved him?”