A Lily on the Heath 4 (35 page)

His surprised, delighted laugh was smothered when he gathered her up again for another very long, very thorough kiss.
 

It was not a long time later when Tabby confessed that her mind had most definitely been changed.

FIFTEEN

It was two months since Judith
had been unceremoniously dumped off at Lilyfare.

Several things had come to pass during that time, including the confirmation that she was not carrying the future Lord Warwick. Nor had Judith received any messages from her husband, other than one that had been delivered when Sir Lelan and a group of others had arrived from Warwick, nearly a month ago.

My lady wife,
read the message,
from your devoted lord husband, greetings.

I have received your letter and I beg apology for keeping your messenger longer than intended. If you are reading this, then Sir Waldren has returned, bearing this missive from me, and I trust you will not punish him for his seeming disobedience.

I found it necessary to keep him at Warwick for a fortnight to ensure he did not carry with him the orange-spot illness that has wreaked havoc among my cows, and is now beginning to infect the people here. I did not wish him to carry this plague to Lilyfare and endanger you and others. ’Tis also the reason I cannot, in good conscience, return to Lilyfare at this time. I do not wish to leave whilst my people are ill and dying. I hope and pray this ague does not rise at Lilyfare, and I beg you send word at the nonce if the cattle there take ill with red-orange spots on their muzzles.

I thank you also for the information contained in your previous communication. Though it was appreciated, it was not well-received, as you might expect. I have taken it upon myself to send word to our friends about the situation in the hopes that aught may be rectified by one means or another. Until then, I beg you to remain within Lilyfare and to send word immediately should any visitors arrive, or any summons be sent to you.

I do not know when I shall be able to quit Warwick. As the illness spreads, ’tis less likely that I dare travel. In the mean while, I hope this finds you well. And if there is any change regarding your health, I bid you send me news.

Malcolm de Monde, Lord of Warwick, & etc. 15
^th
of August, 1166. Warwick Keep.

Judith had read the message several times, wondering at the final sentence above the close.
“And if there is any change regarding your health…”
Was he asking if she was with child, or was he referring to the plague-like illness?

She gnawed over that sentence oft during the month since she received the missive. He cared only if she was breeding? If she was not, did that mean he would come to Lilyfare in an effort to get her with child—then leave once more?

A shiver of worry huddled deep in her belly when she realized
he
could contract the frightening illness, and
he
could die. Was that why he stayed away? Because he feared infecting her?

Judith’s confused thoughts must have translated to distress or distraction as she swung the lure for Hecate, for the raptor descended unexpectedly, landing on her ungloved hand.
 

Judith cried out as the bird’s sharp talons bit into the top of her hand. She froze as the bird stilled, waiting for the food reward. Despite her pain, Judith flipped the lure enticingly onto the ground, steeling herself as Hecate launched off her hand down to the bit of raw meat. As the raptor took off, her talons dug in a little more with the effort, but then released her mistress’s hand.

Blinking back tears of pain, Judith looked down at her fist. Blood trickled from the deepest cut—but she was fortunate, for she’d been footed several times in the past, and Hecate had been gentle with her today.
 

“’Tis only what I get for being distracted,” she said aloud, turning to go back inside the mews for a clean cloth—then stopped abruptly.
 

A young girl, surely no more than a decade old, stood in a corner of the falcons’ flying yard, watching her. She had wispy blond hair and huge blue eyes and the expression on her innocent face was a combination of concern and curiosity.
 

“Hail there, young mistress,” said Judith, looking around for any sign of the girl’s friends or family. The child didn’t look familiar, but Judith was not acquainted with every child of every serf, villein, or freeperson in Lilyfare after her long absence.

But she thought it strange that the girl was unattended and in an area of the courtyard restricted only to those who cared for the raptors and the horses. While Judith wasn’t particularly strict about such things—for she herself had roamed among the mews, meadows, and stables when she was a child, mixing with the children of serf and freemen alike—she did find it odd the girl was alone and unsupervised. It could be dangerous in the stable area.

“Are you the lady with the bird on her hand? My poppy told me about you,” said the girl, still watching her with those huge eyes. She had edged out from the corner but still kept a respectable distance. “Why are you bleeding?”

Judith’s fist was throbbing with pain, and the blood dripped in large plops onto the ground. “The falcon cut me with her talons,” she told the girl. “I must attend to it.” She whistled for Hecate, who’d finished her reward, then turned to go into the mews. Inside, she kept cloths and a paste for such situations, for one could not be called an experienced falconer if one’s hands had no scars.

“Is it hot?” asked the girl, coming closer.
 

Judith stopped, holding up her gloved hand for Hecate to light. “Hot? Nay, it stings a bit, but it isn’t hot.” She gestured with her injured hand, showing the nameless girl where Hecate had gripped her as she went into the mews.

But the girl wasn’t looking at her hand. She touched her wispy curls as she stared at Judith. “Your hair. Is it hot as fire? Does it not burn your head? And your pillow, when you sleep?”

“Ah,” Judith replied with a little laugh. “Nay, ’tis not hot.” She smiled ruefully at the girl. “I must bandage my hand. Will you watch?”

Inside the structure that included the mews as well as a working room, Judith released Hecate into the coop area, then closed the door. When she turned, she saw that the girl had wandered in and was standing near the entrance, watching silently. It was then that Judith realized the girl wore the same expression and had the same wondrous look in her eyes as the man she’d known as Gentle Ned.

“What is your name, young mistress?” she asked, remembering the man from her youth. Gentle Ned had been the son of one of the house servants, and he would sit for hours weaving baskets or repairing fishing nets near the fire. His thick fingers had been nimble and quick while his mind remained simple and childlike all the days of his life.
 

“I am Lady Violet,” said the girl, drawing herself straight with a puffed-up chest.

“Very well then, Violet,” Judith replied as she opened the jar with her salve. “I am Lady Judith.”

“I am
Lady
Violet,” the girl said with a stamp of her foot. “My poppy says I am a lady.”

“Indeed,” Judith replied, spreading the paste over her wounds. The blood had begun to coagulate and soon would stop, but the salve would help to keep the bad humors for getting in through the open skin. “Very well, then,
Lady
Violet. I shan’t forget that,” she said gravely, wondering which of her men-at-arms had fathered such a pretty little girl.

“May I touch it?”

Judith looked at her. “What do you wish to touch?”

“Your….” The girl moved her hand over her head, pulling a handful of her own hair.
 

“My hair?” Judith hesitated, then shrugged. “Very well. Allow me to finish wrapping my hand.”

“You have ughies,” Violet said, creeping closer with her attention trained on Judith’s hand.

“Ughies?”

“Aye.” Once again, the girl moved her hand in a gesture in place of words to indicate the talon marks. “My poppy says they are ughies when they bleed.”

By now, Judith had more than a mild curiosity about Violet’s “poppy,” but she was more intent on the matter at hand. “Aye, but this will make it stop bleeding, God willing,” she said, finishing with a bandage. “It is not the first time Hecate has expressed her irritation with me.”

“Hec-ty?”
 

“My falcon. Did you not see her?”

“Oh, aye,” Violet replied, her eyes wide as she looked toward the mews door. “I should like to pet her and hug her. She is nice.”

Judith gave a little chuckle. “I do not think Hecate would appreciate your hugs. Falcons don’t much like people, and they certainly don’t wish to be hugged. But mayhap some day she will allow you to touch her feathers. If you are very careful and you allow me to help you.”

“Oh, aye,” said the girl, seeming to have forgotten her desire to touch Judith’s hair.

All at once Judith heard a commotion outside and she went to the door of workroom, opening it to see what was happening in the bailey.
 

“Violet!” called a strident female voice. “Violet! Where are you?”

“Violet!” came another shout—this one from a man. “Where can you be?”

Judith looked at her new friend. “Someone is looking for you. Mayhap your papa and mama?”

Violet, who’d been nibbling on the side of her forefinger, shook her head. “Nay. Mama is in heaven, and my poppy isn’t here now.” She looked at the door, as if only mildly interested in the fact that her name was being shouted about.

By now, Judith had gone out into the courtyard, gesturing for the girl to follow her. “Here,” she called when she saw a frantic-looking woman running down the thoroughfare. “Are you looking for Violet?”

The woman stopped and gaped when she saw Judith standing there with Violet, and all at once the woman was curtsying and bowing. “Oh, my lady, oh, I am so sorry! Oh, my lady, please forgive me…I did not mean….”

“Violet!” called a deep voice, and just then Sir Nevril came barreling around the corner of the nearby stable. Judith was surprised to see Tabatha in his wake, followed by two other men-at-arms.

When they saw her, both Tabatha and Nevril froze, their eyes going from Judith to Violet to the older lady and back again. The other men stumbled to a halt, and everyone seemed to be looking around as if lost.

“What is the meaning of this?” Judith asked sharply. She felt as if she’d walked into the middle of a chamber and everyone had stopped talking at the sight of her—not so very different from the way she’d felt that night at Clarendon when it first became known she was the king’s mistress. ’Twas not a pleasant feeling.

“’Tis nothing, my lady,” Tabatha said, speaking first after exchanging a glance with Nevril. “Clara was watching little mistress Violet, and she somehow slipped away. I hope she wasn’t—uh—bothering you.”

“Come now, little poppet,” crooned the other woman hopefully—presumably the erstwhile Clara—as she crooked her finger at the girl.

“I am
Lady
Violet,” said the urchin, her hands going to her hips. “Lady Violet de Monde!”

Everything stopped at that moment. Judith’s breath caught and she looked at the horror-stricken faces around her. Something inside her pitched unpleasantly, and she turned to look at the girl. Bending so they were nearly eye-to-eye, she said, “What is your papa’s name, Lady Violet?”

“Lord Malcolm de Monde, Lord of Warwick,” pronounced the little girl proudly.

Judith straightened abruptly and looked around at the circle of guilt-ridden faces surrounding her. “I see,” was all she said. Her mind was awhirl, her insides a storm. “And how long have you been here at Lilyfare?”

This question was not directed at the girl, but instead at Sir Nevril—who seemed the most likely person to have a truthful answer.

“My lady,” Tabatha said, putting out a hand as if to shield Nevril from needing to respond.

But he would have naught of it. He stepped forward, pushing Tabby behind him as he bowed to Judith. He shifted himself protectively in front of Violet, who’d been dragged firmly to Clara’s side by the wide-eyed woman. “My lady, please do not take your fury on the girl or her nurse,” he said. “’Tis only the fault of me, for I was supposed to be watching her whilst—”

“Silence!” Judith ordered. “I do not wish to hear any explanation or excuses.” For the only person on whom she would take her fury would be Lady Violet’s “poppy.”

Judith looked down at Violet, who did not appear to be cowed by the tension going on around her. “I shall see you on the morrow, Lady Violet. Here. Just after the midday meal. And I shall properly introduce you to Hecate.”

With that, she spun about and stalked off.

~*~

“Tell me what you know
of Violet,” Judith demanded of Tabatha later that evening.
 

“What do you mean, my lady?” said the maid, industriously shaking one of the bed coverings out the chamber window. Summer was waning and soon the cool days of autumn would fall. She’d replaced the bed curtains with ones of heavier material to keep the cold out, and now fur blankets would cover the mattress.