By Queen's Grace (16 page)

Judith gave a brief thought to leaving the room, but if she went down to the hall or out into the bailey, people would think it strange that both she and Oswuld left Thurkill alone. Emma had surely spread the news of Thurkill’s downward turn, and someone would ask how Thurkill fared. To keep Oswuld’s secret, she should stay and wait for him to return.

But she couldn’t just sit here, her mind idle, or she would fall apart.

Judith threw the bolt on the door. No one could come in and discover what Oswuld wanted kept secret. And no one would come in and think she’d gone completely daft.

She sat in the bedside chair. Thurkill’s body lay in the bed, but his soul had been released. Perhaps, if Thurkill wasn’t too busy convincing the guardians of heaven’s gates that he deserved admittance, he would hear.

Judith remembered where she’d left off in the poem last eve, and in a voice as steady as she could muster, continued the story of
Beowulf.

“He is gone. I leave tonight,” Oswuld said without any preamble or emotion.

Corwin perused the bailey, allowing a brief moment of sorrow for an old man who’d given his life for a dreamas misguided and hopeless as that dream might be.

Time had run out, both for dreams and secrets. He hadn’t found the key, or the hidden door. With the escape route blocked, Oswuld wouldn’t be able to sneak out of the keep to take Thurkill home.

“Oswuld, I found the door in Ruford’s bedchamber locked,” he murmured. “Do you know where the key might be?”

“Nay, I.nay,” he said, crestfallen at the news. “‘Twas not locked when I discovered it. Did you search the chamber?”

“A bit, but without success. The key might be in the chamber, but I suspect Ruford has it on him. Is there another way out of Norgate?”

Oswuld shook his head. “Not without being readily seen. Damn! I had it all planned. I thought I could-”

Fearing a loud outburst, Corwin put his hands on Oswuld’s shoulders. “Steady, Oswuld. Do not despair yet. We will find a way.”

“Before nightfall? We cannot keep Father’s death secret for long, even with Lady Judith’s help.”

Corwin glanced at the unshuttered window on the top floor of the keep, where Thurkill lay dead. Had Judith reached Thurkill before he died or arrived after? Either way, she would be grieving.

“Where is Judith now?”

“Still in the bedchamber. I asked her to keep mum about Father, then left to find you.”

“Does she know why?”

“She knows I intend to take my father home, but not how. I thought it best, for her sake, that she not know. But if there is no way out, the deception is pointless.”

“We will find a way.” Corwin repeated his earlier words a bit more forcefully than before.

“How?”

How, indeed? Unless they used the secret passageway, they risked discovery by too many people.

“Oswuld, where is the outside door? I saw no sign of it.”

Corwin shook his head at Oswuld’s directions. He’d passed by the spot twice and not seen it. “I am going to try to force the bedchamber door open from the passage-way.
If that doesn’t work, we will try something else. If we have to, we will get the key from Ruford, somehow.”

Oswuld’s brow furrowed. “If you are discovered helping me, you will not be able to stay.”

“Nay, but that bothers me not. How trustworthy is the man who aids you with the horses? Can he hold his tongue?”

“I believe so. Why?”

Corwin braced for Oswuld’s reaction. “I am leaving with you tonight. When you ask him to prepare the horses, have him ready mine and Judith’s, too.”

“Judith’s?”

“She has been after me to rescue her ever since that first night. Now seems the perfect time to do so, would you not say?”

Oswuld’s initial shock faded to acceptance. Then his eyes went wide. “Good God, Corwin! Ruford will call out the entire army to search for the two of you.”

“While they search for us, you will have time to slip away.”

“Dangerous for Judith.”

“She can handle a horse and will be fine. When you are finished, meet me back in Judith’s bedchamber. We have only a few hours until nightfall.”

By the time Corwin made it to the bedchamber, he was sweaty, dirty and frustrated. He’d found the outside door, bumped and stumbled his way up the dark stairway-all for naught. The door at the top that opened into Ruford’s bedchamber refused to budge.

Hope for a secret, quiet slip into the night was fading along with the day. The evening meal would be served soon. Corwin tapped lightly on Judith’s door and said his
name softly at her request for identification. She slid the bolt and opened the door.

He stepped into the bedchamber, she closed the doorand was in his arms. Corwin knew Oswuld stood by the window, saw the body wrapped in a blanket upon the bed, but gave into the sweet glory of Judith pressed against him.

“Oswuld says we are all leaving tonight-hopefully,” she said.

“Aye,” he answered, breathing in the scent of her hair, wishing they were already well away from Norgate. Though he knew she could withstand it, the ride would be hard and the danger high. Would that it were over instead of just beginning.

“Any luck with the door?” Oswuld asked.

Corwin kept his arms around Judith as he looked at Oswuld, though he needn’t hold tight. Judith didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon.

“Still locked. We shall need the key.”

“Is Ruford in the hall?”

“I did not see him. I do not know where he is.”

Oswuld pushed away from the window. “I am going down the hall and knock on his door. If he is not within, I will search for the key.”

“And if he is within?”

“Then I will simply thank Ruford for his kindness in allowing father the comfort of her ladyship’s bed, beg his indulgence a while longer, and come back here. Listen for footsteps on the stairs, if you will.”

Corwin didn’t stop Oswuld from going. They needed the key, and Oswuld needed something to do. He might even find the key.

“What if he does not find it?” Judith asked.

“Then we shall have to lure Ruford up to his room and demand it from him. I would rather not, but if we leave
him tied and muzzled, we should be able to escape before anyone finds him.”

“When do you want him there?”

“The best time, I imagine, is right after the evening meal. ‘Twill be dusk then.”

“All right”

Corwin didn’t like the sound of that. With hands on her cheeks, he tilted her face upward. She closed her eyes, expecting-hoping for?-a kiss. He just might give her one, but not yet. “All right?”

“I shall lure Ruford up to his bedchamber right after the evening meal.”

That’s what he’d feared she meant.

“Oh, no, you will not.”

She sighed and opened her eyes. “‘Tis easiest for me to do it. I shall go down to table and send food up for you and Oswuld, telling Ruford the two of you keep vigil with Thurkill. After we have eaten, I will ask Ruford to speak privately-mayhap about the wedding he thinks he is having tomorrow.”

Corwin wound his fingers into her hair. “There will be no wedding. And I will not have you inviting Ruford into the privacy of his own bedchamber. The man will think you mean to do more than talk.”

She smiled. “I know. He will be so beside himself he will not guess anything is amiss. Is it not a grand plan?”

“Nay. I do not want you alone with him. Remember the stable?”

“I remember you and your horse coming to my rescue. Think you can do so again?” Her smile faded. “Please, Corwin. I promise to have a care, truly. ‘Tis the one way I can be of help to you and Oswuld. And.and I need to leave this room for a time. I can no longer look at the bed.”

Corwin relented. Just as Oswuld needed something to do,
so did Judith. Both of them had been secluded far too long up here, both before Thurkill’s death and especially after.

“All right. If Oswuld does not find the key, ‘tis your duty to bring Ruford up the stairs.”

J
udith ate because her next decent meal might be days away.

Bubbling excitement over Corwin’s decision to leave tonight clashed with her grief over Thurkill’s passing. The war of her emotions made sitting here, remaining calm in Ruford’s company, difficult.

Oswuld and Corwin should be finished with the meal she’d asked Emma to leave outside the bedchamber door. Then Corwin would make his way to Ruford’s chamber and be waiting there when she arrived. Getting Ruford upstairs would be easy. Waiting until the evening shadows dimmed the hall, however, was proving a strain.

Judith glanced about the hall, at the men sitting at the long line of trestle tables that stretched down the room, and the women who bustled to serve their meals. The captains, whose names she’d been told but didn’t remember, sat at the high end, closest to the dais, talking among themselves as they emptied their trenchers and cups of ale. Everything seemed so normal on an evening so abnormal.

Except Duncan hadn’t yet made an appearance. His absence concerned her, not because she wanted to see his scowling face, but because she didn’t know where he was.

Duncan had always been suspicious of Corwin and usually lurked nearby. Desertion of his self-appointed duty struck her as a bad omen. Or did her heightened tension look for trouble where none existed?

Corwin and Oswuld seemed to have the escape well planned. With the exception of one locked door, to which they would soon have the key, they foresaw no problems in leaving Norgate. Still, if Duncan didn’t appear in the hall before she left, she would mention the unusual occurrence to Corwin.

Judith picked up her wine goblet and took a very small sip, mindful not to repeat her mistake of last eve.

“You have been very quiet tonight, my dear,” Ruford said.

“I have much on my mind. Truly, I would welcome a diversion of some sort. Music, perhaps?”

“You are in need of a diversion from having spent too much time in seclusion with Thurkill.”

Judith bristled at the reprimand, but remained composed. Within a short time she’d no longer have to placate Ruford. “‘Twill be over soon.”

“By the morrow?”

“Likely sooner.”

“Then we can be wed on the morrow.”

Judith shuddered at the thought of being wed to Ruford, at his complete lack of human decency.

“A burial and a wedding on the same day? Truly, I think the one would cast ill luck on the other.”

His brow furrowed. “Then you are not so opposed to the wedding as to the timing of it?”

“I am as opposed as I have always been, but as you made evident this morning, my opposition will not matter in the end. I have decided to make the best of it, as I did
while in the abbey. If one cannot have from this life what one wishes, one makes do with what one has.”

She fought to stay still as he leaned toward her. “Very practical of you,” he said.

“I am nothing if not practical.”

“An excellent trait in a queen and a wife. Are you saying you will be both-willingly?”

“I shall endure,” she said, promising herself that she would most certainly endure the evening, hoping she must never set eyes on this man again.

“Endure? Sounds like a notion of the nuns, or an unhappy wife. You will enjoy your wifely duties, I can promise you.”

She might with the right man, with Corwin.

Judith glanced around the hall, measuring shadows. ‘Twas time, or near enough.

“So you hinted earlier. This topic is highly improper at the table. Mayhap we should retire to someplace private to continue our discussion. Your.bedchamber, perhaps.”

Corwin sifted through the papers on Ruford’s table. He tucked away the list of names he’d found earlier, along with a sheet of scribbled sums, and yet another list of supplies. Perhaps, once studied, the writings might reveal clues to the depth and breadth of the rebellion. He also took one of the rolled parchments-a map of central and northern England.

Where is she?

He’d been in the bedchamber longer than necessary, coming early to ensure he would be here when Judith arrived with Ruford. Too much time to think of how Ruford would surely react, of what might happen if he didn’t have the key on him, of all that could go wrong. Of the danger to Judith.

Oswuld had assured him the horses would be saddled and packed, waiting for them in the stable. Few people would be wandering about the bailey, being inside the hall finishing their meal. Judith foresaw no problem in getting Ruford to come up to the bedchamber-and Corwin agreed, though he didn’t like what Ruford would be planning on doing when he got Judith into the chamber.

Corwin opened the shutters fully, doubting Ruford would notice. The man’s focus would be elsewhere, on Judith.

Finally, he heard footsteps in the passageway. Corwin drew his sword and pressed up against the wall near the door, where he wouldn’t be seen until the door closed.

The latch clicked and the door opened. Judith entered the chamber and walked across the room to the window, as he’d told her to do. Ruford, following her, grabbed the edge of the door and let it swing closed behind him.

“Good eve, Ruford,” Corwin said softly.

Ruford spun around, his shock quickly replaced by anger.

Before he could speak, Corwin warned, “Move or call out and I shall change my mind about letting you live.”

“What are you about?”

“I have decided to grant her ladyship’s request for rescue. Judith, fetch your cloak.”

Smart lady that she was, Judith walked around the edge of the room so she wouldn’t get close to Ruford.

“Are you all right?” Corwin asked, knowing she was, but having to make sure.

“I am fine now,” she said, giving Ruford a scathing glance. “I know not if it holds import, but Duncan did not come into the hall for the evening meal.” And with that, she hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Ruford crossed his arms. “If you think you can use me
as a shield to get you through the hall, you are mistaken. My soldiers will have you surrounded within moments.”

“I do not need you, Ruford. Only the key you likely have hanging round your neck for the door behind the tapestry. You can either give over or I can take it. One means you continue to live, the other permanent silence.”

Ruford’s face twisted with fury. “When I am king, you will be the first I punish severely.”

“Then I have naught to worry over, for even if this rebellion had any hope of success, you would not be king. Truly, Ruford, I am amazed you thought the lords with whom you plot treason would allow you to wear the crown.”

Ruford’s eyebrows rose in surprise. At his silence, Corwin continued. “They will let you do the fighting and take the risks. When all is done, they will pat you on the head and give you some token reward-if they let you live. The most high ranking of the lords will wear the crown, not the second son of a lowland laird.”

“Judith is royal. Her rank-”

“Would not have helped you. Your allies do not know about Judith, do they? Kidnapping her was your idea, to give your claim strength. Unfortunately for you, the lady strongly objects to your villainy.”

“Whatever reward Judith offers you, I can offer you more. Wilmont and.name your price.”

Ruford would never understand personal honor and loyalty that couldn’t be bought. ‘Twould be a waste of breath to try to explain.

Corwin held out his hand. “My price is already met. The key, Ruford.”

“She let you have her, did she not? All those hours she pretended to nurse Thurkill, she was beneath you.”

Fury flared hot and bright. With one step forward and a
flash of his sword, Corwin nicked Ruford’s ear. Ruford clapped a hand to his head and fell to his knees.

Corwin took a long breath, amazed at his action. He’d never attacked an unarmed person in anger before, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel remorse. “The next time I will take your head. The key!”

Ruford reached beneath the neck of his tunic and pulled it out. With a furious tug, he broke the ribbon and sent the key flying beneath the table.

The door’s latch clicked. On the edge of his vision, Corwin watched Judith tentatively enter the chamber. A hooded, woolen cloak of deep brown covered her amber gown. Oswuld, with his blanket-wrapped bundle over his shoulder, stood behind her.

“You bitch!” Ruford spat out. “All the while you played the innocent maiden with me, you were rutting-”

Corwin put his boot to Ruford’s shoulder and shoved hard. His victim toppled from his knees and sprawled on the floor. Killing Ruford would be so easy, but if Corwin committed murder outright, he’d be no better man than the villain he slew.

He reined in his temper. “Judith, the door is behind the tapestry in the far corner. The key is under the table. Try the lock. Oswuld, let us tie and silence this wretch before he gives me more cause to run him through.”

As Oswuld gently laid his father’s body on the bed, Judith found the key, beginning to understand what Ruford had accused her of that had sent Corwin into a rage.

“I will hunt you all down,” Ruford threatened. “If it takes me the rest of my life, I will-”

Judith shuddered at the confidence in his voice, grateful Corwin silenced further threats with a towel. Her hands shook as she pushed aside the tapestry and fumbled with
the key. Freedom lay just beyond the door. The thought steadied her hand, and the lock snicked open.

“It worked,” she said, and opened the door to an unlighted passageway. “We will need a candle or torch.”

“No time,” Corwin said. “Oswuld, go ahead of Judith. I shall finish trussing our goose and be right behind you.”

Judith peered down the dark, narrow passageway, seeing not freedom but terror. If one of them should misstep.

Oswuld joined her behind the tapestry. “Come carefully, my lady. The stairs are but a few feet ahead and steep. Hold on to the walls for balance.”

She took his advice and followed Oswuld into the abyss. She’d taken two stairs downward when Corwin closed the door behind him, snuffing out what little light had come from the room above. ‘Twas like being suddenly blinded in a room with no air.

“Corwin?” His name almost caught in her throat.

“I am right behind you, Judith,” he said, his voice soothing and reassuring. “The stairs bend to your right. Listen for Oswuld’s steps. Take one at a time. You do fine.”

One stair at a time. Judith set her resolve and moved her foot. One stair. Another. Corwin followed close behind, not more than two steps away. A bend to the right. Ever downward.

“There, see the light at the bottom from under the door?” Corwin asked. “Only a little way now and we will be out. Have a care on the last step. ‘Tis steeper than the others.”

“Hold a moment, my lady,” Oswuld said, then opened the door a crack.

Light, blessed light. She took the last few stairs with haste. So did Corwin. He brushed past her to open the door farther and peer out.

“Seems peaceful enough,” he said. “Wait here while I fetch the horses.”

She wasn’t waiting anywhere. “I will help. ‘Twill go faster if we both go.”

“Judith,” he said.

She waved away the argument he was about to give her.

“I know. ‘Tis dangerous. I am coming with you anyway.

We waste light. Let us go.”

He studied her for a moment, then told Oswuld, “We will be right back.”

Judith kept up with the brisk pace Corwin set, glancing around the bailey. She saw only two people, both near the keep’s stairway. No one walked the earthworks.

“No guards?” she said.

“Ruford does not fear an attack, so sets no guard. I might feel confident, too, with an army camped outside my front steps.”

They entered the stable without mishap. Judith lifted her skirt and fairly ran toward her mare. She stopped abruptly when Duncan came out of one of the stalls, his sword in his hand.

“In a hurry, Princess?”

Corwin answered for her. “Aye, she is. Let her pass,”

he said, his words accompanied by the slide of his sword from its scabbard.

“I went through too much trouble to fetch her to let her go,” Duncan said. “She stays.”

“Move aside, Judith,”. Corwin said.

She slipped into the stall with Oswuld’s horse, knowing what would happen next, confident Corwin would make short work of disarming Duncan. Still, Duncan’s smile unnerved her.

“You will not find me an easy opponent this time,” he
said. “I watched you with Oswuld. You teach well, and I learn quickly.”

Duncan made good on his statement. This time he didn’t lunge at Corwin, but attacked with more finesse. Their blades clashed, steel ringing upon steel in a burst of swift strokes, Corwin taking the defense, no discernible expression on his face. She wished he would just end the thing, do one of those awe-inspiring moves she’d witnessed, and send Duncan’s sword flying so they could leave.

But he didn’t, and the longer the two fought, the more she realized something was very wrong with Corwin. He held his own, but that was all. Then he grimaced, clutched his stomach and staggered back a step. He regained his footing, but lost all advantage.

Had he been wounded? Even as she wondered how it could have happened, she looked about for a weapon. There wasn’t one, and even had there been, she wouldn’t know the first thing about how to wield it. She’d get herself killed, and maybe Corwin, if she tried to interfere.

But there was one who could interfere.

Judith slid slowly down the row of stalls to Corwin’s destrier.

The huge warhorse was nervous, his muscles twitching with each clash of steel. Being very careful of his rear hooves, she made a warning, shushing noise, then eased in beside him. Mercy, if he moved at all, the mere bulk of him would crush her against the side of the stall. She ran her hand over his hide as she eased forward. He tossed his head, but held still.

“All right, you big beast,” she whispered, reaching for the bridle that bound him to the stall. “Let us see how well you can protect your master.”

With the bridle untied, the destrier needed little urging to back out of the stall. Once out, he turned toward the
sound of battle. He snorted and pawed at the dirt, but held his ground.