By Queen's Grace Read online

  “You are a captain, are you not?” Corwin asked of Thurkill.

  “Aye,” he said quietly, probably knowing he wouldn’t be one for long. Even if he didn’t die, he wouldn’t be of much use to Ruford if his heart ailment kept him abed. Ruford would have to assign someone to take his place.

  Like me, Corwin thought.

  As each captain arrived, Oswuld made an introduction. Some greeted him, others didn’t. Each went over to Thurkill and asked after his health, some with genuine concern, others as a mere formality. Corwin noted it all while his head reeled with the notion of becoming one of them.

  As a captain, he would be privy to the rebels’ planning sessions. By the time he left, he would know every detail of how they intended to overthrow the crown. And possibly, he could cripple those plans, maybe cause dissension among the captains. Use Ruford’s own tactics against him. First, however, he had to convince them that they couldn’t possibly win this rebellion without his help.

  Eight captains had assembled by the time Ruford joined them, again with Duncan trailing behind. Corwin likened him to a hound, sniffing around his master in hopes of a bone or a pat on the head.

  Ruford sat on a bench and waved a hand at Duncan. “Repeat the tale you gave me last eve,” he ordered.

  Duncan paced as he told of Judith’s kidnapping, saying how he, Thurkill and Oswuld had watched the abbey for several days. Satisfied they wouldn’t meet with armed resistance, they’d decided to enter the abbey to take Judith. She’d made it easy for them, however, by venturing outside the walls.

  With a self-satisfied smile, Duncan said, “She tried to escape. Oswuld and I caught her, though, and we made off with her without incident.” His smile faded. “Unfortunately, Corwin heard her screams and tracked us.”

  Corwin remembered Judith’s screams, filled with anger and fear. If he’d been closer, or had answered her distress more quickly, neither of them would now be in the far reaches of northern England in the midst of a rebel stronghold. Judith would be safely ensconced in Romsey Abbey, and he overseeing the structures being built at Cotswold.

  He wouldn’t have gotten to know Judith for the intelligent, charming, desirable woman she’d become. She wouldn’t now be in a chamber at the top of the stairway, probably fretting about what was transpiring down here in the hall. He suppressed a satisfied smile at the depths of the concern she’d expressed on the ride through the encampment, and chose not to examine too closely whether Judith fretted because she cared deeply for him or because he’d vowed to help her escape.

  “Your intent was rescue,” Ruford said, dragging Corwin’s attention back to the business at hand.

  “Aye,” Corwin said. “Then I overheard Thurkill tell Judith of the reason she’d been kidnapped, of the purpose of your rebellion. I decided not to kill him, but to join him.”

  “A rather swift decision, one might think.”

  “Mayhap, but one not made lightly, nor one I will regret if this rebellion succeeds and the price of my service is met.”

  “Wilmont.”

  Corwin nodded.

  Duncan snickered. “So he says, my lord. I still mistrust him.”

  After a moment’s silence, Ruford said, “I will keep that in mind, Duncan. Pray continue.”

  Duncan obeyed, relating the journey’s progress-Judith’s second attempt to escape, obtaining her gown and mare, and the group’s close brush with the sheriff of Hampshire. Ruford seemed to pay little heed. Judging by the direction his gaze continually wandered, Corwin guessed where the man’s thoughts strayed-up the stairway to the chambers above, where the maids had taken Judith.

  His own thoughts had strayed up that same stairway far too often, pulling his concentration away from determining the rebellion’s troop strength and the quality of the rebellion’s leadership. Especially Ruford’s.

  From their conversation upon arrival, ‘twas obvious Judith knew Ruford Clark, might know him well. At some point, Corwin wanted to hear Judith’s opinion of the man.

  Duncan neared the end of his tale. Corwin prepared to answer whatever questions would come his way. He also had a few questions of his own.

  “As you saw, my lord, Corwin refused to cover his eyes, in directdisobedience to your order,” Duncan said. “For that insolence alone he should not be allowed to remain among us.”

  “How answer you that charge?” one of the captains asked.

  “Duncan has the right of it. I refused to enter your camp with blinded eyes.” Corwin waved a hand toward his sword. “As a sign of my goodwill, I put aside my sword. However, I felt no obligation to obey the orders of a man I had not yet met, to whom I have not sworn my loyalty.”

  “You swore loyalty to Gerard of Wilmont,” Ruford said. “Yet now you seek to betray him. How do I know you will not betray me?”

  Corwin smiled. “You do not,” he admitted. At Ruford’s frown, he chided, “Come now, Ruford. Your rebellion is rooted in betrayal. Does not everyone here betray an overlord by his presence in your stronghold?”

  “Not I,” another present said, taking umbrage.

  By the frowns on a few faces, Corwin knew he offended more than one of the captains. If they didn’t betray their overlords, then they obeyed an overlord’s orders-and Ruford couldn’t be their overlord. Could he? Corwin pushed that quandary to the back of his mind to mull over later.

  “Do we not, each one of us, betray the overlord of us all-the king-by plotting to hand Ruford his crown?”

  Corwin wanted to rail at them for falling under Ruford’s spell, to jolt their consciences once more. And maybe he would-later. A carefully placed word here and there could go far to cause dissension within the ranks. For now, however, he desisted.

  Corwin leaned forward. “And I, Ruford, can help you obtain that crown with less bloodshed. I know many of the Norman nobles, have visited their holdings. I can tell you whose forces are the weakest or strongest. In many cases, I can enter a keep without being questioned.”

  “‘Tis true, my lord,”. Oswuld interjected. “When we bought Lady Judith’s mare, no one stopped us at the gate. Truth to tell, the steward greeted Corwin with pleasure by name, as one would a friend.”

  “And think on this,” Corwin added. “I could lead a company of men right up to the doors of Westminster Palace or the royal residence in White Tower. I can damn near hand you the crown of England.”

  An exaggeration, to be sure. The king’s guards were not so complacent. The lie, however, brought a spark of greed to Ruford’s eyes.

  “My lord, I must protest-”

  Ruford.cut off Duncan’s words with the wave of a hand. “I will hear more,” he said.

  Corwin knew he had his man.

  Judith lounged in the tub of steaming hot water, a jewelencrusted, gold goblet-nearly empty of wine-dangling from her fingers. She tried hard not to think about what could be happening in the great hall between Corwin and Ruford, tried to simply enjoy the luxury of a bath in a comfortable bedchamber. She was almost succeeding.

  A tapestry depicting the hunt covered nearly a full wall of the chamber, overshadowing the large bed with its invitingly thick mattress, on which lay a huge bear pelt Her gaze skimmed over the heavy oak table, two chairs and a low-burning brazier. In the corner ofthe room stood an intricately carved chest, from which the maids had pulled an amber silk gown. She didn’t ask about the gown’s former owner, fearing the woman had died, along with her husband.

  Somehow, Ruford and his forces had managed to capture a Norman keep. Ruford wouldn’t have let the Normans go free, not if he wanted his shameful acts to remain secret.

  When Corwin had asked her to think about who might be the leader of the rebellion, Ruford Clark’s name had been one of the first she’d come up with, then promptly discarded. Not only had she believed Ruford still in France, she simply hadn’t envisioned him as a man with the means to take on so grandiose an undertaking as the overthrow of England. Though Ruford could be charming, he didn’t have the forceful personalit
y necessary to draw followers. She doubted he had the funds to pay them all. Unless, of course, Ruford had simply promised huge tracts of land to each of his soldiers. In land was power, and those who craved land would do most anything to get it.

  If so, then these soldiers were fools. Once Ruford obtained England, he’d be loathe to give up a hide of land to anyone.

  But then, Ruford would never sit on the throne, so all this conjecture was for naught.

  All she need do was get through the next day or two until Corwin arranged their escape. Then they’d warn the kings of both England and Scotland, dooming Ruford’s rebellion.

  Judith glanced over at Emma, a woman of about her own age, who sat on the bed and busily plied a needle and thread to the silk gown, taking tucks where necessary so the garment would better fit Judith’s form.

  Nan, the older of the two maids, poured rose-scented oil into the bath. The aroma drifted up with the steam, filling Judith’s head with visions of a flower garden at summer’s height.

  “Here now, my lady, you must not fall asleep,” Nan said kindly. “After your bath, his lordship wishes you to go down to the hall. The cooks are preparing a special meal to celebrate your arrival.”

  Judith opened eyes that she hadn’t realized she’d closed-shouldn’t have closed. Though the maids seemed harmless enough, she shouldn’t let down her guard while in Ruford’s sphere.

  Mercy, she shouldn’t be enjoying this pampering so much, either, but as Nan slid a brush through her freshly washed hair, Judith submitted without protest.

  As Corwin had suggested would happen, these people treated her with all of the deference due her rank. A bath in scented water. A gown of silk. A feast prepared in her honor. Would there also be entertainment in the hall this night? Likely. Ruford wanted her to feel as if she were a guest, not a captive.

  Her first inclination had been to rip Ruford apart for his presumption, to be uncooperative and let everyone know of her displeasure at being kidnapped and brought here against her will. As much as she wanted to rage, now that she knew the identity of the rebel leader, she thought better of it. She must be more subdued in her rebuke.

  Acting the shrew would only grate against Ruford’s thin layer of patience. If he became angered, he might punish her by locking her away, which would only make it harder for Corwin to get to her when the time came for their escape. Having to be somewhat nice to Ruford galled her. She’d make no secret of her vexation at his high-handed tactics, but she wouldn’t invoke his temper, either.

  Corwin and Ruford were down in the hall, supposedly talking about Corwin’s desire to join the rebellion. She heard no loud voices or clashes of steel coming up the stairway. A good sign.

  Emma rose, shook out the gown and inspected her stitches, then held it out.

  “‘Tis finished, my lady. What think you?”

  “‘Twill do,” she said flatly, bringing a frown to Emma’s face.

  “You are not pleased?”

  The woman looked fairly crushed. Judith stopped herself from apologizing for hurting Emma’s feelings. She held out a hand toward the maid. “The chemise, if you will.”

  Emma helped Judith into a chemise of fine white linen, then the gown of amber silk. Both felt smooth and soft against Judith’s skin, so different from rough peasant weave, but not comforting. She sat on a stool, allowing Nan to plait her hair and weave into it ribbons of the same color as the dress.

  Emma fairly beamed. “Ah, my lady! You look just as a queen should. Lord Ruford will be so pleased!”

  Judith doubted that Emma had ever seen the likes of a queen. As for Ruford’s pleasure, the man could go hang. Judith couldn’t help wonder, however, if Corwin might take notice of her much changed appearance.

  Ever since the day of the kidnapping she hadn’t taken many pains with how she looked. Not that she could have, lacking so much as a brush for her hair. Neither her black nun’s robe nor the gray peasant gown had done a thing for her-but the amber silk did. The silk molded to her body in places the robe was designed to hide. The fabric moved in soft, subtle folds when she moved, unlike the shifting bulk of the peasant weave.

  Her hair shone with renewed vibrance, reflecting the gleam of the amber ribbons, and felt as soft as the down on a duckling.

  Such vanity, she chided herself, but not too harshly. For the first time in her life she wanted to look good to impress a man. To draw his attention and hold it captive. See appreciation, perhaps desire in his eyes. For just one moment, she wanted to be the center of Corwin’s world, make him forget about his quest and see only her.

  Emma and Nan looked at her with such pride in the changes they’d helped wrought, thinking she would be the woman to help their lord rule England. They wanted her to be their queen. ‘Twouldnever happen.

  Yet the pretense might work to her advantage over the coming days. Just as had happened with her kidnappers, if Ruford thought her complacent, she might not be guarded tightly.

  As for his followers, if they wanted a queen, Judith could give them one. Heaven knew she knew how, having had the best teacher-her Aunt Matilda, Queen of England, the woman these people wanted Judith to replace.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Gor, and will you look ather,” one of the captains said.

  Corwin noticed the sweet suffering in the man’s voice. Indeed, Ruford and all of his captains took note and looked toward the stairway.

  Obviously, Judith had come into the hall.

  A silence ensued, bordering on reverence. Corwin carefully steeled his resolve to show no untoward reaction to Judith. He shouldn’t even look, but couldn’t help himself.

  Lovely. Delicate. Regal. Each word accurately described the woman who stood at the bottom of the stairway.

  Gowned in flowing amber silk, the vision that was Judith began a slow glide across the rushes toward the table where Corwin sat motionless, held captive by her beauty.

  Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Judith in her transformation was stunning. She’d been beautiful when draped in a nun’s robe, and no less lovely when garbed in rough peasant weave. The silk, however, hugged her body as none of her former garments had, revealing a shape molded to please the eye and invite a man’s hands.

  Judith held her head high and her shoulders back. Her steps landed firmly. To those who shuffled aside to let her pass, she gifted nearly imperceptible nods of acknowledgment, accompanied by a faint smile.

  A smile to die for.

  She approached the table. For a short, painful moment Corwin’s gaze locked with hers. Then he turned away, fearing she would see unerringly into the depths of his heart. She already possessed his loyalty and devotion. ‘Twould be foolhardy to let her know she could have far more.

  ‘Twould be foolhardy to allow the rebels to see how much he desired the woman Ruford planned to marry.

  Ruford looked pleasurably stunned at the change in Judith’s appearance. He rose and held out his hand. “My lady, words fail me.”

  “You may save your flattery for some other, Ruford,” she said. “I do not forget I am a prisoner here, not a guest.”

  Ruford’s hand dropped back to his side. “Truly, my lady, you are my most welcome guest. Did your maids not perform their duties to your satisfaction? Is not the chamber given you one fit for a lady?”

  “From the moment your men captured me I have been a prisoner. I spent several long, hard days on horseback on a journey I did not wish to make. You bring me here against my will. Did you expect me to be pleasant about it? Surely you did not believe a bath and a decent chamber would allay my distaste at being kidnapped!”

  “Did not Thurkill tell you why?”

  “Oh, he spouted some silliness about my becoming queen of England. Truly, I do wish you had chosen another and let me be.”

  Judith flounced around Ruford, coming into Corwin’s line of sight. She knelt down in the rushes next to Thurkill, in flagrant disregard for her silk gown, and put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder.

&nbs
p; “How fare you?” she asked.

  “I will live,” he said.

  Corwin wasn’t sure Thurkill would last the night. No physician had been summoned, leading him to believe there wasn’t one within the rebels’ encampment. A mark against Ruford. Every army should include several healers.

  Judith beamed down at Thurkill. “I am gladdened to hear so. You and I have a score to settle, and I want you healthy enough to bear the brunt of my anger.”

  Thurkill patted Judith’s hand. “Do not fight so hard, my lady. All will be well. You will see.”

  “Thurkill speaks true,” Ruford said. “When our task is done, and you sit on England’s throne, I believe you will forgive us the inconvenience we caused you.”

  Judith rose and sighed. “How many Saxon rebellions have there been over the decades? Three, mayhap four? I see no reason why yours should succeed where others failed.”

  Lord, Corwin hoped Judith knew what she was doing. Hoped she knew Ruford well enough to know how far she could push him without drawing an angry response. To his relief, Ruford looked at her quizzically.

  “Is that what bothers you? You think this rebellion will not succeed, that you will not obtain the crown? Believe me, my lady, I have studied those rebellions and know why they failed. I will not make the same mistakes.”

  Judith crossed her arms. “I find that very hard to believe.”

  Ruford smiled. “Then I shall endeavor to convince you. Come, our meal is nearly ready. Mayhap, over wine and venison, I can give you hope.”

  Judith glanced around the table at the captains, at Corwin, but didn’t linger on any one man. “I did not mean to interrupt. You are finished here?”

  “We can resume our talk after we eat.”

  The captains rose from the benches at the dismissal. “My lord,” the more vocal of the captains said, “we have not decided Corwin’s fate.”

  Corwin wondered why the man thought he had any say in the matter. True, Ruford had called the captains together, but from what he’d observed, concluded that the summons had been a token gesture. Only Ruford’s opinion mattered.