The Velvet Promise (24 page)

"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.

"What 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?"

She paused a moment. "I tell you this to show you that I understand the way he has a hold on you. So did my husband. I know the power Gavin has over you, for my own marriage was the same. I can't say it was love, and I can't say yours is."

They sat quietly for a moment, both staring at the glowing charcoal.

"And now I rescue my husband as you rescued yours," Judith said.

"Even though yours lived to beat you again, and mine will return to another woman."

"Yes," Helen said sadly.

"Did having a child matter?"

Helen considered. "Perhaps if the first ones had lived, but there were three dead, all boys. Then when you came, and you were a girl…" She didn't finish the sentence.

"Do you think it would have mattered had the first one lived and been a son?" Judith persisted.

"I don't know. I don't believe he beat his first wife, who gave him sons.

But he was younger then." She stopped abruptly. "Judith! Are you with child?"

"Yes. Two months gone."

John jumped to his feet in a clatter of armor and steel sword against stone. "You have ridden all this way and you are with child!" he demanded. He had been so quiet the two women had forgotten his presence. He put his hand to his forehead. "Hanging will be too good for me. Lord Gavin will torture me, as well I deserve, when he hears of this."

Judith was on her feet instantly, gold eyes blazing. "And who will tell him? You are sworn to secrecy!"

"How do you plan to keep this a secret?" he asked with heavy sarcasm.

"When it must be known, I plan to be far away from this place." Her eyes softened. "You wouldn't tell, would you, John?"

His expression didn't change. "Don't try such cajolery on me. Save it for that fish of a man, Walter Demari."

Helen's laugh interrupted them. It was good to hear her laugh, a sound too seldom heard in her unhappy life. "It does me good to see you like this, my daughter. I was afraid marriage might tame you and break your spirit."

Judith wasn't listening. John had heard too much. She had said too many intimate things in his hearing; now her cheeks were beginning to stain red.

"No," John said, with a sigh. "It would take more than a mere man to tame this one. Don't plead more, child. I will say nothing of what I have heard unless you ask me to."

"Not even to Gavin?"

He gave her a worried look. "I haven't seen him yet. I would give a great deal to know where he is being held, if he is well."

"Judith," Helen said, bringing their attention back to her. "You have yet to tell me why you are here. Did Walter Demari send for you?"

John sat down heavily in the chair. "We are here because the Lady Judith said we must come. She does not listen to reason."

"There was no other way," Judith said as she too sat down again. "What have they told you?" she asked her mother.

"Nothing. I was… brought here after Robert's death. I have spoken to no one for a week. Even the maid who empties the chamber pot doesn't speak to me."

"Then you don't know where Gavin is kept?"

"No, I gathered from your words only just now that he too was held.

What does Lord Demari hope to gain?"

"Me," Judith said simply, then lowered her eyes before briefly explaining Walter's plan of annulment.

"But there can be no annulment if you carry Gavin's child."

"Yes," Judith said as she looked across her mother to John. "That is one reason it must be kept secret."

"Judith, what will you do? How do you expect to save yourself, Gavin, Joan and your husband's man from this place? You are no foil for stone walls."

John grunted in agreement.

"I don't know," Judith answered exasperatedly. "I could see no alternative. At least now I have a chance of getting you out. But first I must find Gavin. Only then—"

"Did you bring Joan?" Helen interrupted.

"Yes," Judith said, knowing her mother had some idea.

"Tell Joan to find Gavin. If there is a man to find, she can do it. She is little more than a bitch in heat."

Judith nodded.

"And now, what of Walter Demari?" Helen continued.

"I have seen him only a few times."

"Is he to be trusted?"

"No!" John said. "Neither he nor that henchman of his can be trusted."

Judith ignored him. "Demari thinks I am beautiful, and I plan to be beautiful as long as it takes to find Gavin and make an escape."

Helen looked down at her daughter, so lovely in the glow of the coals.

"You know so little of men," she observed. "Men are not like account books, where you add the figures and they give you a manageable sum.

They are all different… and much more powerful than you or I."

Suddenly John rose and looked toward the door. "They return."

"Judith, listen to me," Helen said quickly, "Ask Joan how to deal with Walter. She knows a great deal about men. Promise me you will follow her advice, and don't let your own thoughts sway you."