By Queen's Grace Read online

“Not a soul. I could toss up your skirts and have you in the straw and no one would be the wiser.”

  His expression changed. Mercy, he was contemplating his threat.

  “I will not have it,” she said, crossing her arms. “I will not be treated like some trollop. Truly, Ruford, ‘tis shameful of you to tease me so.”

  “Tease? Look who teases! Do you know, when you cross your arms thus, you lift your breasts, inviting a man to touch them?”

  Immediately, she lowered her arms. “I do no such thing.”

  Her words had no effect; he continued to stare at her bosom. Then he lunged for her.

  Judith’s shriek mingled with the angry cry of Corwin’s destrier. Her mare echoed the destrier’s cry and shifted, her backside pinning Ruford against the side of the stall.

  The destrier snorted and kicked at the wall twice, then a third time for good measure.

  Fully sobered, Ruford shoved at the mare’s rump and made his escape before the destrier’s hoof drove through the plank, sending shards of wood everywhere.

  People flooded into the stable at the commotion. Stable boys, maids, soldiers-and Corwin. Relieved, and feeling rather foolish, Judith leaned her head against her mare’s neck and stayed put.

  Corwin gave her a quick glance, then calmed his horse.

  Ruford angrily brushed at the sleeves of his tunic. “That beast of yours is dangerous,” he grumbled.

  After a brief burst of disbelieving laughter, Corwin said, “He is a warhorse, Ruford, and is trained to be dangerous. Surely you should have known better than to annoy him. What happened?”

  Judith was sure Corwin knew very well what had happened, and she would likely receive another warning about being alone with Ruford.

  “Nothing,” Ruford stated. “I merely extended a hand to aid Judith out of the mare’s stall and your horse took offense.”

  “Ah, well, that explains it then. He does have a good eye for a pretty mare. Mayhap he thought you were about to take Beauty away and made his objection clear.”

  Judith knew better. The destrier had picked up on her fear and anger, as most horses could. Unlike others, however, the destrier had been trained to react to what he perceived as danger. Corwin knew it. Ruford surely did, too, but accepted Corwin’s offer of a gracious explanation.

  Ruford waved a beckoning hand. “Judith, come out of there, carefully, before this beast goes berserk again.”

  “Aye, my lady,” Corwin said, reaching into the stall. “Have a care for the sharp wood, and do ware the beast.”

  She took Corwin’s hand, very aware that Ruford watched and disapproved, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was run back to the keep, up to the bedchamber, and stay there until Corwin came for her.

  Emma, skirts flying behind her, ran into the stable and aided Judith’s cause, though not in a way she might have liked. “My lady, Oswuld requests you come quickly,” she said. “‘Tis Thurkill, he.fades.”

  Judith opened the bedchamber door, fearing the worst.

  Oswuld sat in the chair that had become a permanent fixture by Thurkill’s bedside and was rarely unoccupied. With a resigned smile, he looked down at his father. Thurkill’s eyes were open.

  Pale and gaunt, the old man watched her close the door behind her.

  “Ah, my lady,” he said breathlessly, as though a heavy weight bore down on his chest. “Good…you came.”

  Thurkill tried to lift a hand, but the effort proved too much. Determined to get through whatever was to come with some dignity, Judith plastered a smile on her face and perched on the edge of the bed.

  “Where else would I go, pray tell? You did urge me to go for a walk, but knew I would come right back. We ended our walk at the stable. I saw my mare. She stands next to your horse, quite snug in her stall. I think she expects us to come for them all at any moment and be off on our journey again.”

  Her babbling embarrassed her but amused Thurkill.

  “Journey.not so.bad.”

  “I beg to differ. I should not care to repeat such a trip anytime soon. My backside is still bruised, though the calluses on my fingers begin to soften.”

  “Must give.thanks.”

  “For what? My softening calluses?”

  “Beowulf.” He said the word as if in prayer.

  “He heard every word, my lady,” Oswuld said. “Father even said some of the lines with you. I did not know that he knew the poem.”

  “Learn much.serving ale.”

  “Too much,” Oswuld rejoined. “If you had not overheard those mercenaries discussing this rebellion.ah, no matter. What is done is done.”

  Thurkill’s expression turned earnest. “Not done. Judith. Corwin. finish.”

  “Aye, Corwin will finish it,” Oswuld said. “That is all you ever wanted, was it not-to see a Saxon sit on the throne?” Thurkill nodded then closed his eyes. Oswuld continued, “You have worked very hard for it, given everything a man has to give. ‘Twould be glorious if-”

  Thurkill’s face eased into peaceful repose, but not into sleep. Oswuld put his hand on his father’s chest. It didn’t move.

  Judith looked away and pressed her lips together so hard they hurt. Oswuld held his emotions back with a shaky grip. She’d not be the one to break his hold.

  The young man took a deep breath. “-if your dream came true. But ‘tis not to be, I fear. Even now, Corwin talks of leaving, as we are.” With those words, Oswuld rose from the chair.

  Judith marveled at his calm. Something within her screamed for Thurkill to come back for another hour, a day, a little more time. She couldn’t imagine what agony Oswuld must suffer.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “My lady, I ask you to tell no one just yet. I have.arrangements to make first.”

  Judith got to her feet. “Where are you going?” she managed to ask.

  “To find Corwin, then to the stable. And then I am taking my father home.”

  Oswuld turned and left, slamming the door behind him. She hoped he would find Corwin quickly, before he fell apart. Corwin would help Oswuld with whatever needed doing.

  As for Thurkill, he had passed beyond all pain and need. For so many days she’d nursed him-talked to him, fed him, changed bedding. Her chores had come to an end with his final breath.

  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.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Judith 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 wo
uld 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.”