By Queen's Grace (14 page)

In response, Corwin rolled his eyes heavenward but said nothing.

Not seeing Corwin’s odd action, Ruford puffed out his chest. “For tonight, rest easy while we celebrate our good fortune. You have brought us a knight to lead us and a lady to grace us with her presence. We shall have a grand feast, with good food and wonderful music. Would that you could join us.”

“Ah, entertainment, say you?” Thurkill said wistfully.
Judith could almost hear the thoughts running through his head-and put a quick halt to what he was surely planning.

“We will have food brought up, Thurkill. I will leave the door open so we can hear the music. ‘Twillbe as much celebrating as you can bear.”

Ruford frowned. “Surely, my lady, you plan to join us.”

No, she didn’t. The very last thing she wanted to do was again join Ruford at the dais. Listen to hiseffusiye compliments. Avoid his wandering hands. She’d had her fill of it for one day.

“I will remain with Thurkill,” she said.

“There is no reason for that, my lady,” Oswuld said. “I will stay with Father so you can enjoy the evening. Should you be needed, I will send for you.”

“A most suitable solution,” Ruford said. “After all, Judith, the feast is in your honor, and the servants have changed the rushes as you requested. If you do not come down, they will think you find fault with them.”

She felt outmaneuvered. Maybe she could put up with Ruford for a short while. And Corwin would be in the hall. Maybe Ruford would be too busy discussing his army with Corwin to pay her any heed. Or so she hoped.

“All right, then, but only for a short while.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to your company, my lady,” Ruford said, then turned to Corwin. “Come. We have work to do. Where do we begin?”

Corwin shook his head. “All can wait until the morrow. Let the men rest tonight, for tomorrow I intend to work them hard and they will need their vigor. For now, I want to check on my horse, then have a good wash and get out of this chain mail. ‘Tisnot suitable attire for your celebration.”

Judith knew what he would wear. Corwin would don his midnight-blue dalmatic, trimmed with Ardith’s artful embroidery.
A garment soft, warm and imbued with precious memories. She was suddenly glad she’d relented about joining in the feast. She could hardly wait to see Corwin in his finery.

“When you go to the stable, would you also check on mine and Father’s horses?” Oswuld asked. “I have not had the chance.”

“Of course,” Corwin answered. “Is there aught else you require?”

“Nay, just to ensure our horses are in their proper stalls and well cared for.”

“Then I shall see you next on the morn, in the practice yard.”

Oswuld grinned. “Aye, with sword in hand.”

“‘Tis good to see you take an interest, Oswuld,” Ruford said. “I had nearly given up hope you might one day show enthusiasm for our efforts.”

Oswuld’s grin faded. Corwin’s hand came up to near his waist in a brief, halting motion. A caution to Oswuld?

After a pause, Oswuld said, “‘Tis a day of discovery for us all, is it not, Lord Ruford?”

“A good day all around, I should say.” Ruford turned to Corwin. “I will have one of my guards show you to the armory.”

Corwin nodded, and Judith realized where he would sleep tonight-on the first level of the keep with the household guards. He would be close by if she needed him.

Ruford left the bedchamber with Corwin on his heels.

“‘Tis truly a day to rejoice,” Thurkill said. “Ah, what lovely delicacies will be laid on the tables tonight, I wonder?”

“Oh, the cook prepares a true bounty!” Emma said. “There be roasted boar and pheasant. And sweets-all manner of sweets.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as
if conveying a secret. “She makes pastries filled with apples and nuts and cinnamon. ‘Tis a sinful confection.”

Thurkill groaned.

Oswuld chuckled. “You have hit upon Father’s true weakness, Emma. I suppose I could go down and pilfer one from the cook.”

“Do that,” Thurkill said. “And bring me a large mug of ale to wash it down with.”

Judith saw her chance to be alone with Thurkill. The man had some explaining to do.

“Emma, go down with Oswuld. Have pallets brought up for our use this night.”

Judith closed the door after them.

“All right, Thurkill. What is going on?”

“My lady?”

“Do not play the innocent with me. Earlier today you asked Corwin if he were thinking hard. He said he was, and that you would explain. I sense you two share some secret”

“Ah, that. Come sit so I need not shout.”

Judith settled onto the foot of the bed.

“Oswuld tells me you have forgiven us your kidnapping,” he said.

“‘Twas a grievous sin I hope you confessed and received a hefty penance for.”

“Aye, but ‘is to you I hope to make amends, of a sort.” He shifted slightly. “If Corwin proves agreeable, and I dare say I think he might, then you may not be so averse to having been brought here. Answer me this, my lady. If the Saxon destined to become king, the man you are to marry, were Corwin, not Ruford, would you accept the crown of England’s queen?”

A jolt of shock stiffened her spine. “Surely you jest!”

He chuckled. “Corwin gave the same reaction to my
suggestion.” Then he sobered. “I am quite serious, my lady. After meeting Corwin I realized how unsuited Ruford is for the task. He has noble blood, but little else to recommend him. He has not been able to pull the various factions of the army together. Corwin, while not noble, can control the captains and make this army a true force. He also knows the politics of the kingdom, and would work hard to make England a better place for all.”

Thurkill wanted Corwin to usurp Ruford, to use the army gathered at Norgate to take the crown for himself. The vision of Corwin doing so simply refused to take solid form.

“Oh, Thurkill,” was all she could manage to say.

He smiled. “You would not be averse to marriage to Corwin, would you?”

“Well, no, but.” She shut her mouth, realizing what she’d confessed.

“I thought not. The more Corwin sees here, the more I think he will realize he can have more than the prize of Wilmont. He could have all of England.”

Seductive, indeed. But Corwin didn’t want Wilmont. He only pretended to in order to thwart the rebellion. Corwin wouldn’t betray Gerard of Wilmont, or his king. Wouldn’t betray her.

“Thurkill, when did you propose this scheme to Corwin?”

“After the first meeting with the captains.”

“And his answer?”

“He scoffed at first, as you did. But I asked him to reconsider. As you heard yourself, he is thinking hard on the matter.”

Judith closed her eyes, remembering a kiss filled with passion, with possession-mind-bending with seduction. She’d practically begged him for it. All the while she’d thought he yielded to his emotions. Could he merely have
been thinking of binding her to him, with another purpose in mind?

Aye, he’d told Thurkill he was “thinking hard” on some matter, and now she knew on what. Had he been placating a dying man or giving Thurkill’s suggestion serious consideration?

How ridiculous! Corwin wouldn’t agree to this foolishness of Thurkill’s. He wouldn’t give in to temptation. He couldn’t.

Judith got up and walked over to the window. The field was now empty of the soldiers who’d marched across the grass, with Corwin watching. He must now know everything he needed to know to report to the king. Escape would come soon.

Where would they go? Scotland wasn’t far off. London would be a long trek. How long would they have alone together? A day, maybe two? More?

Oswuld entered the bedchamber, a pastry in one hand, a mug in the other. “Still warm,” he said, laying the pastry on Thurkill’s chest.

“Ah, you are indeed the best of sons,” Thurkill said as he broke off a piece of the flaky delicacy. “Tell me, what is this about you and swords and the practice yard? I never thought I would see the day.”

“Oh, well, after watching Corwin this morning I realized how truly lacking my skills are. He graciously conceded to helping me improve them.”

“You could learn from no better.”

“That was my thought. I fear, however, that he may not have much time for me. The soldiers who escorted us in this morning have spread the tale of his expertise with a sword. Before you know it every one of them will want a lesson.”

“Good. Just by watching him instruct you they will all
learn a thing or two-and they need it. Corwin may turn this assemblage of men into a fighting force yet.”

Judith tried to ignore the implications, but how could she? Thurkill was right. If Corwin put his mind to it, he could train these troops, show them how to win.

Had she been the fool, trusting Corwin too easily? Had she given him her heart only to have him break it, to have him use her for the same purpose as Ruford intended? Had he seductively kissed not Judith, the woman, but Judith Canmore, the royal heiress?

C
orwin looked better than any man had a right to look, in chain mail or dalmatic, clothed or not, bearded or no. Judith again felt the warmth of his garment, the softness of the fabric-detected the scent of him woven among the strands-though they were the length of the great hall apart.

She drank too much wine and blamed her lapse on Ruford. He refilled her goblet and she continued to drink. She’d stopped tasting the sweet, hardy beverage a while ago, and knew she should stop. But the wine slid down easily and muddled her disturbing thoughts, the wine also made Ruford’s attentions seem less bothersome.

Corwin’s dalmatic, which had hung loosely on her, clung to his form in perfect fashion-well fitted across his broad shoulders and chest, cinched to his trim waist by the leather girdle. Embroidered trim at the cuff and hem caught the light of the torches burning in their sconces, and sent it sizzling along silken threads.

Corwin looks more the nobleman than Ruford.

He’d washed. Corwin’s shoulder-length hair framed a face enhanced by his neatly trimmed beard. The beard shadowed but couldn’t conceaβ the gracious smile on his face as he strolled about the room, seeking out first one
captain, then the next. Judith couldn’t overhear them, but watched in awe as the discourse almost invariably turned from somber to enjoyable.

She envisioned Corwin at a royal court, doing what he did now-singling out those whose favor he wished to gain and succeeding with ease. She hadn’t a doubt he could win over the captains and do as Thurkill suggested-become their leader.

Judith put the wine aside. She shouldn’t doubt Corwin, but it was hard not to. So many people had disappointed her-her parents, the abbess, even the queen-that she couldn’t help wondering if Corwin would, too.

He’d promised escape, but promises were easily broken.

She leaned back in her chair and concentrated on the soothing strains of the music, provided by a woman who played a harp. For many years Judith hadn’t heard a note of music beyond the chants of the Mass, nor played a harp. The sweet strains conjured memories of her childhood, when she’d foolishly believed that those she loved would see to her happiness and ensure her a future filled with laughter and music.

Instead, they’d sent her off to Romsey Abbey and had all but forgotten her, leaving her subject to being kidnapped by an upstart noble who couldn’t control an army, much less the kingdom he planned to rule. Self-pity had never overtaken her so completely, and she rarely wallowed in it for long. Tonight, however, she couldn’t seem to muster the effort to banish her morose musings.

Corwin eventually made his way to the dais. “Lord Ruford, my compliments on the food, the wine and the entertainment. One can see that given proper funds, your court will be a grand one.”

Ruford leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table. “We have not yet talked about how to take possession of
the royal treasury. Mayhap we should seize it first. He who controls the treasury controls the kingdom.”

“Aye,” Corwin conceded. “But the man who stands the best chance of controlling the kingdom must first establish his claim on the crown.”

“As Henry did before his brother’s.death.”

Ruford had almost said “murder.” Many people still believed Henry had had a hand in his brother’s death, though he hadn’t loosed the arrow that killed William. Upon hearing of William’s demise in a hunting accident, Henry had rushed to Westminster and seized the treasury at sword point, even before his brother’s body grew cold. Not many weeks later, Henry had chosen Matilda, a Saxon princess, as his queen.

Ruford was doing the thing backward. He thought he had his queen, a Saxon woman of royal rank whose name he would invoke to rally troops and secure his claim to the throne. Judith Canmore, royal heiress, unwilling participant and less willing bride.

So much for the fantasies she’d entertained about finding her prince. Judith again grasped her goblet and took another sip of wine.

“Henry’s claim was far stronger than yours,” Corwin said. “He had gained William’s favor and established himself at court. Unfortunately, you cannot do so. But fear not. With her ladyship at your side, giving you council, you will soon win them all over.” Corwin shifted his attention to Judith. “How fares our fair lady?”

Miserably, but the fair lady knew her court manners, too.

“I have been served the finest of delicacies and highly palatable wine. My doting host has been most amusing. What more could a lady hope for, pray tell?”

Ruford fairly preened at the false compliment, and Corwin’s smile slipped slightly. “I noticed the potency of the
brew,” he commented. “A French wine, perhaps? It does slide down easily, does it not?”

Thought she’d had too much to drink, did he? Well, she had, but not overly much. She still sat straight, though she acknowledged that walking might be a problem.

Ruford waved a hand in the air. “I know not. ‘Twas in Norgate’s stores, so we drink it. French, you say? Have you a knowledge of wines?”

“Some. Wilmont’s stores abound with fine wines. A few possess the quality to bend a person’s mind and loosen his tongue too quickly. One finds oneself babbling on without realizing what one is saying until far too late to undo the damage.”

The knave! Did he think her so far gone she would tell Ruford of his intentions to escape Norgate, taking her with him? Did Corwin still plan to escape?

Ruford chuckled. “Aye, one must always beware the wine. I see you have quit it. ‘Tis good you keep a clear head. Mayhap I will not make you a captain, but my general.”

Corwin tilted his head. “Does the wine speak, Ruford? Will you remember those words on the morrow?”

“If I do not, I have both you and her ladyship to remind me. You will remember, will you not, Judith?”

“Of course, Ruford,” she said, and put the goblet back on the table. Her head might hurt on the morn, but she wouldn’t forget that within the space of a day, Corwin had worked his way up from unwelcome intruder to trusted general. Had he also fallen from trusted friend to treacherous enemy?

Ruford raised an arm and put his chin in his hand. “The music stops. I fear our entertainment about to end. Would I could offer you more, my lady, but no one else in the hall can play.”

Corwin tilted his head, looked at her speculatively. She mistrusted the mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Mayhap her ladyship can be imposed upon,” he said.

“Truly?” Ruford asked. “Can you play the harp, Judith?”

Corwin was up to something, she knew. But what?

“I have not held a harp in a very long time,” she said honestly. “I fear my unpracticed fingers would make errors aplenty.”

“I do not suggest the harp, but a more courtly amusement,” Corwin said. “If her ladyship is of a mind, I hope she might give us a verse or two of
Beowulf,
this time in English.”

Judith felt a flush bloom on her cheeks, remembering what she’d been doing the last time she’d uttered lines of the poem. ‘Twas bad of Corwin to remind her, and to ask her to entertain her enemies.

“Beowulf!” Ruford shouted, alerting the entire hall. “Ah, my lady, say you will do us the honor!”

Corwin’s eyebrow raised in question. “Aye, my lady. Can you?”

Of course she could. Corwin, however, seemed to think her brain impaired. Now she knew his purpose. He tested her. A test she could easily pass. She would recite the poem he requested, or part of it, anyway. ‘Twould take hours to do the whole. She’d give them a verse or two-not for Ruford’s sake, nor to prove to Corwin her faculties remained intact.

“I shall be pleased to,” she agreed. “Ruford, would you bring this chair near the stairway, so Thurkill might hear, too?”

Corwin’s expression changed from one of challenge to one of pride. Ruford lifted the chair to lug it across the hall.
Judith took the arm Corwin graciously offered, and was glad of it. Her footsteps weren’t as sure as they should be.

Settled in the chair, she began the heroic poem of the Swedish prince Beowulf’s struggles and then conquest of the evil monster Grendel. The words came more easily in English than in Norman French, the lines sounding more lyrical.

From upstairs she heard the squeak of leather hingesOswuld opening the bedchamber door more fully so Thurkill could better hear.

“Her ladyship does not feel well this mom,” Oswuld said.

Corwin wasn’t a bit surprised. He kicked at a clod of dirt in the practice yard, trying to concentrate on giving Oswuld a lesson in sword handling. Unfortunately, Judith’s performance last night competed for his attention.

She’d been utterly dazzling, and not only when she’d held the hall in thrall while reciting
Beowulf,
rendering the poem with the deft lyrical ability of a French troubadour. He’d been hard-pressed to ignore her earlier, to keep his gaze from straying toward the dais for most of the evening.

After noting the potency of the wine, he’d quit it after one goblet, as Ruford had observed. Judith hadn’t stopped, but kept sipping at an ever full goblet-Ruford’s doing. Had she known Ruford did it apurpose, to lower her defenses?

Ruford wanted Judith. The lust in the man’s eyes had been so apparent any fool could see his desire. So far, Corwin had heard no talk of plans for a wedding. He found it curious. One would have thought, given the circumstances, that Ruford wanted vows exchanged quickly, to establish the marriage so central to his plans. Not that Corwin cared
why Ruford waited for the marriage. He just hoped Ruford had no plans to precede the vows with consummation.

“And your father?” Corwin asked, grasping for a subject to banish the vision of Ruford and Judith together.

“No better, but no worse, I think,” Oswuld answered.

So much for a distraction.

Corwin looked at the sword Oswuld held. It was ancient. The blade chipped in places. Definitely in need of sharpening. ‘Twould do for now, and if wielded properly, would serve its purpose later if Oswuld found it necessary to defend himself.

Oswuld held the weapon awkwardly, unused to doing more with it than carrying it around. The lad wasn’t a soldier, never had been and had no wish to be. One blow from another’s weapon and the sword would fly from Oswuld’s grasp.

Corwin grasped his sword hilt, a grip sure and firm, learned as a stripling from knights whose reputation as fighters knew no detractors. A knight of Wilmont training was a knight to be reckoned with, and few challenged one on a whim. Corwin knew he was among the best of them.

“Let us start with the very rudiments,” he said, showing Oswuld how to grip the sword and make the weapon an extension of his arm.

A crowd began to gather. Corwin ignored them, accustomed to the attention he received at Wilmont when in the practice yard. Oswuld, however, grew nervous.

“What if they know?” Oswuld said.

“They see only two men with swords,” Corwin assured him. “They know not why you take instruction.”

“I shall look the veriest novice.”

“Everyone must start somewhere. Besides, they come not to see you, but me. They wish to know if I am as skilled as rumor has it.”

Oswuld relaxed some, even smiled slightly. “You are.”

Corwin winked at Oswuld. “I know. Now for your stance.”

As Corwin continued the lesson, the crowd around them grew. Even Ruford came to watch. Corwin relaxed. If Ruford stayed within sight, he wouldn’t be pressing Judith for favors.

“Now I will thrust, slowly, like so,” Corwin said, demonstrating. Then he stepped back. “You will block, like so,” he continued, raising his elbow and angling his sword.

And so the lesson began, step by step, in careful movements-thrust and parry, attack and defend. Steps Corwin could do in his sleep.

His mind wandered, but not far, only to the surrounding area and the men who stood there.

This morning, he’d been all over the encampment on the pretext of inspecting the troops. A few of the captains had bid him welcome; the others begrudgingly allowed him a look around.

He hadn’t found a way out of the keep and through the encampment, or at least not a route where he wouldn’t be easily detected. Alone, he could make a dash for the road and beyond. With Judith riding with him, ‘twould be risky.

Oswuld said he knew how to get his father out, but Oswuld wouldn’t be leaving until Thurkill died, which could be within the hour or days from now. Judith would be loathe to leave before that happened, too, but if Ruford made too strong a move toward her, she’d reconsiderCorwin hoped.

He still pondered the wisdom of taking Oswuld into his confidence about his plans to escape. The lad seemed trustworthy enough, but Judith’s safety must come before all other considerations.

Corwin knew now he shouldn’t have brought her here,
but he hadn’t thought the rebel army would be this big. Or the leader lodged in a keep designed to not only keep intruders out, but inhabitants in.

“Ready to try the exercise a bit faster?” he asked Oswuld.

“Probably not, but let us do so anyway.”

It didn’t go well. Oswuld’s sword soon hit the ground, with little effort on Corwin’s part.

Several men in the crowd snickered, and Corwin singled out one who’d snickered the loudest. A mercenary.

“Can you do better?” he asked.

“Anyone can,” the man called out.

“Then come show me.”

Though his fellows cheered him on, the man had enough sense to hold up his hands. “I like living,” he said.

“I will not run you through,” Corwin promised with a smile that made a lie of his words.

The mercenary shook his head.

“Anyone else?” Corwin called to the crowd.

Interest flickered across several faces, including Ruford’s.

He could end it all now, Corwin realized. Call Ruford out and arrange the man’s demise. Without him, there would be no Saxon noble to give legitimacy to the rebellion.

Rebellion within rebellion.

Corwin shook off the temptation. He’d never before been a man’s sole judge and executioner. He’d killed, but in the heat of battle, never in deliberate fashion. But if the man laid a hand on Judith, ‘twould not be at all hard to run Ruford through.