Kitabı oku: «Leaves On The Wind», sayfa 3

Chapter Two

She woke to hear a low whispering close by. Even as she strained to hear it, the muttering ceased. It was replaced by the unmistakable chink of coins being counted out on to a hard surface. She swallowed. She knew what that meant. She wriggled her fingers experimentally and sought mastery of her limbs. Another faint murmur spurred her efforts. Silks swished across marble tiles. A door clicked shut. She made out the scraping of a bolt being shot home. She’d been left with one of Balduk’s patrons, and she’d only the strength of a kitten to help her resist.

Judith waited, eyes shut fast, every nerve stretched to the limit. The silence was so absolute it was unnatural. At length, hoping against hope she’d been granted a reprieve, she forced her eyelids open.

She found herself lying on a couch in a pool of light. The rest of the chamber was black as sin. She could see no one else. The light was provided by two wall sconces, and a flickering oil lamp on the table in front of her. A brass ewer winked out from amid a host of ceramic dishes all overflowing with food. She licked her lips and frowned. She was so thirsty. Dared she drink?

She heaved herself up on one elbow and reached for one of the two goblets. Her hand froze in mid-air. Two goblets?

Something rustled in the shadows beyond the table. Judith snatched in a breath. Her hands gripped the edge of the couch and she strained to see across the chamber. Her heart began to pound. She steadied herself. She knew a little about fighting; he’d not be expecting that. She’d not make it easy…

“Don’t be afraid.”

A bitter laugh slid from Judith’s lips. English! The man who’d paid for her body spoke English! Her eyes pierced the gloom beyond the table and she recoiled. He was sitting in the window-seat opposite the couch. His white robes made him almost invisible against the whitewashed walls. A flowing head-covering and the shadows combined to mask his features.

She wanted to run, but knew her leaden limbs could not carry her. Zoe’s evil brew had seen to that. Even if she made it across the room, she doubted she could budge that in her present condition.

“The door is bolted to keep them out, not to keep you in.” The robed figure spoke up, reading her mind with uncanny ease. He had a pleasant voice, and somehow that made it worse.

Impotent fury freed Judith’s tongue. “You swine! You bastard!” she flared. “I suppose you want complete privacy while you…while you…” She floundered to a halt, chest heaving. She tried again. She’d not submit to this lecher. “What kind of a man are you that you need to come to a place like this? You sound English. What are you doing here?”

The man rose and Judith watched in paralysed horror as he strolled towards her.

“Keep away!” she choked.

The robed figure drew nearer. “Don’t be afraid,” he repeated.

His tone was gentle. Judith shrank back. Was this some ploy to win her confidence? He was not fooling her. She raised her hands to ward him off. It was all she was capable of doing. She noticed, wild with despair, that they were shaking. She bunched them into fists so he would not see.

He stopped at the table. “I am English,” he confirmed. “I have no intention of hurting you.”

Judith wanted to believe him. She wished she could see his face, for his voice was sincere. As yet he had not made any attempt to touch her, scarcely the actions of a man who had paid for his pleasure…But until she could look into his eyes, read his expression, she could not be sure.

“Then why in Hell’s name are you here?” she demanded, employing one of Eadwold’s curses in a vain attempt to revive her wilting spirits.

She thought the man raised a brow, and smiled as if amused. Blast the inadequate light! His voice…there was something about his voice. It nagged away in her mind, reminding her…Judith’s eyes widened. An impossible hope flared in her breast. She forgot to breathe.

“I had business at the harbour this morning,” he said, and his voice sent shivers racing down her spine. “They hold slave markets there, and today I found myself watching…”

Judith bit on her forefinger…that voice…that voice…

“Normally I would not have given the market a second glance. Trafficking in human flesh is an abhorrence in the eyes of God. But today, I saw someone from home. I watched. One of the women slaves reminded me of a Saxon girl I once met. Her name was Judith.”

Judith made a convulsive movement. She began to breathe again.

The voice continued. “I thought that Judith was dead, was just a memory. But then today, at the slave market…” He whipped off his headdress, crossed to the couch and knelt before her.

He reached out. Judith did not flinch. He took her chin in his hand, his fingers were cool and firm. Her face was angled gently up to the light. Forest green eyes held hers.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Rannulf whispered, smiling.

He released her, and gently trailed a finger across her cheek. His hand dropped to rest on the edge of the bed.

Judith sagged with relief, and put out her hand. He steadied her.

“So it was you! I could not believe it. Rannulf!” Clinging to his hand as though it were a lifeline, Judith stared at him. His face was leaner, browner. Trembling, she touched his cheek, where a faint white line marked the place a whip had scarred him four years ago. She had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.

“Why did you let them buy me?” she frowned.

“You saw how much our friend Balduk paid for you. I do not carry so much with me—”

“Could you not have given him your bond?” she asked in a small voice.

Rannulf was looking at her cropped hair. He shook his head. “They’d not accept the word of a crusader. Besides, I do not believe in one person owning another.”

Judith gaped. “You didn’t let them buy me out of principle, surely?”

His eyes gleamed.

“You do not mean it!” she realised, striking him on the chest. “’Tis no laughing matter to me, Rannulf, to be owned by that man and put in this place,” she said sombrely, and let go of his hand.

Rannulf relaxed back on to a cushion and reached for the polished ewer “Here, you must be thirsty after what they gave you.” He poured a generous measure and offered it to her.

“I’m not touching that!”

“’Tis quite safe,” he assured her, grinning. “They warned me how wild you were, and when I told them I would not be needing any potions to tame you, I think they thought me a madman. But they took me at my word. ’Tis plain fruit juice.”

Judith searched his eyes and accepted the goblet. She risked a small sip. There was no bitter aftertaste. She drained it dry.

“When did you last eat?” Rannulf had removed one of the silver covers from a dish, and was dipping his fingers in to taste the contents. “This is good.” His lips curved. “And as I have paid highly for this, we may as well eat.”

“They fed me when I was brought here,” Judith told him. “But I think I could manage some more. It must be hours since then.” Judith climbed unsteadily to her feet and walked round the table. She plumped down on to one of the embroidered cushions opposite Rannulf. She still felt lightheaded, as though she were dreaming, and she was not really hungry.

He appeared to be starving, and transferred his attention to the food. Grateful that she could watch him unobserved, Judith picked at some flat bread. She needed time to absorb everything that had happened.

Rannulf ate with neat economy. Slim brown fingers hovered over the bowls, selected spiced fish and meat and carried them to his lips. His tanned skin made his eyes seem greener. In parts his hair was lighter, streaked blond by the Mediterranean sun, but otherwise it remained as she remembered it, an unruly brown tangle. Superficially he looked much the same to Judith as he had done back in Mandeville Chase four years ago. And yet…

He glanced up and sent her a smile which brought a flush to her cheeks, and set off a peculiar tightening sensation in her stomach. It was not unpleasant.

She nibbled at her bread and continued to study him covertly, crumbling her portion in her fingers. His flowing white robe was firmly belted round his waist. His frame was not large, he carried no extra weight, and with a trained fighter’s eye Judith guessed he would be no easy man to best in combat. There was a hidden strength about him, a tension, a feeling of power held in control. And if it was unleashed?

Judith would not wish him to be her enemy.

An enamelled knife with a wicked, curving blade hung at his belt. No wonder she had failed to recognise him. His attire was nothing like that of the young English poacher who had helped her escape the Norman tyrant and his knights.

“Have you finished shredding that bread, or are you going to destroy the whole loaf, Judith?”

She started. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” She looked askance at the crumbs she had scattered over board and floor.

“Murderous thoughts, by the look of what you have done to that innocent loaf!”

“I…I was wondering…”

“Aye?”

Judith coloured She crushed the crust to nothing. “In…in Mandeville Chase, when we last met, did you ever come back to the hide? I often wondered.”

“Aye. I did. I’d snared a plump hare for us to feast on. But you’d gone. I saw other tracks around the shelter, but no signs of a struggle, so I assumed your brothers had found you. To be certain, I followed the tracks for about a mile and then I found…”

“Go on,” Judith urged.

“I found evidence that you’d been murdered.”

“But, Rannulf, as you see, I wasn’t murdered.”

“Aye.” Rannulf reached across the table and peeled her fingers from what was left of the loaf. He raised them to his lips.

Judith’s fingers felt strange. Hot all over, she wrenched them away. “Don’t do that,” she scowled. She knew she had nothing to fear from Rannulf. But he unsettled her.

Four years surviving as a youth in Mandeville Chase had taught Judith how to fight and claw for her life, but she’d learnt nothing of what it was to be a woman. She was all but naked in the gossamer silks that purported to clothe her, and felt desperately vulnerable.

“I did but salute your beauty, my lady,” Rannulf smiled.

“I don’t like it.”

Rannulf lifted a dark brow. “My apologies. I did not realise you were averse to a harmless flirtation. I merely thought to get some return on all the money I have expended for the privilege of spending this night with you.”

“All night. You will be with me all night?” Judith seized eagerly on his words. “There are to be no others, only you?”

He bowed his head. “You will be plagued by none but me till dawn touches the east and lights the sky with her rosy fingers.”

Relief washed through her. “Oh.”

“You are displeased by this?” Rannulf asked lightly. “I thought to save you from unwelcome…er…attentions.”

“Displeased? Nay, I’m not displeased,” Judith assured him hastily.

“You might express it a little more fervently,” Rannulf complained. “Try saying, ‘My thanks, Rannulf, for spending nearly all your money on coming to me in Balduk’s House.’ ’Tis not a place I usually haunt, whatever you may care to say.”

“Rannulf, I…” Judith said earnestly. Then she saw that light in his eyes. “Oh, you wretch!” She took aim, and a chunk of bread flew across the table. Rannulf ducked, and the missile sailed into the shadows.

Judith found herself smiling, and realised Rannulf’s teasing was making this easier for her. She warmed to him. “Tell me what it was you found in the Chase that made you think I’d been murdered,” she said.

“With pleasure. As I just told you, I followed your tracks, and eventually stumbled across a little bundle of clothing stuffed into the roots of a tree. It was your blue robe, I recognised it at once. There was blood on the bodice—”

“Eadwold cut me.”

“Eadwold? A friend? Surely a friend would not do such a thing?”

“My brother,” Judith told him shortly. She could not talk about him. “I understand now—” she drew Rannulf’s attention back to her gown “—you thought I’d been killed because of the bloodstains.”

“Aye. But the gown was not all I found. While I was examining the marks on your gown, something fell out among the tree-roots—your hair. Long strands of beautiful blonde hair lying like golden rope on the forest floor.”

Judith giggled. “You sound like a troubadour.”

“I have at least made you smile. You should do it more often. It suits you. To continue.” He put his hand over his heart and grinned. “What could I think but that my fair Saxon damsel had been foully done to death, and there in my hands was the evidence? I was heart-broken.” Rannulf heaved an exaggerated sigh. “But there was worse to come.”

“Yet more?” Judith laughed, and refilled his goblet with wine.

“Aye. For it was then that I realised the full extent of the bitter blow that Fate had dealt me,” he said dramatically. “I had lost my cloak. My finest and best—the warmest cloak I had ever possessed—gone forever. Not only had those evil churls killed the young maiden whom I’d taken into my charge, but they’d also purloined my cloak!”

“What did you do next?” she asked.

“What, after weeping over my mantle?”

“Aye. After the wailing and gnashing of teeth. What then?”

“I took the evidence—your gown and shorn locks—with me and confronted Hugo.”

“What, you went to the Baron?” Judith exclaimed, her eyes opening wide.

“The same. I wanted to know if he knew anything about your death,” Rannulf explained, as if confronting the Baron was a perfectly natural thing to do.

“Nay. He’d have killed you! What did you really do?”

Rannulf met her disbelieving gaze squarely. “As I said. I confronted Baron Hugo with what I thought was the evidence…”

“You expect me to believe that you accused Baron Hugo of killing me, and lived to tell the tale?” Judith demanded incredulously.

“Of course.” He gave her an impenetrable look. “We both saw him at your cottage. He seemed the most likely suspect. I wondered if perhaps he’d decided to eliminate the whole family. I had to find out.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Do? Why nothing. Except he managed to produce a witness to testify that he couldn’t have had anything to do with your death.” Rannulf raised his goblet to her. “As you see, I live to drink to your beautiful eyes.”

His drinking vessel was fashioned from beaten copper. It glowed in the flickering light.

Rannulf drank deep. His face changed, he lowered the cup and frowned into it.

“Don’t you like the wine?” Judith asked.

“The wine’s good enough.”

“What’s the matter then? You look—”

“Judith, who do you think I am?”

She grimaced at his curt tone. “A Saxon poacher who, like many of his countrymen, has had to flee the country and take refuge abroad,” she answered confidently. “You’re a poacher from the Chase.”

Rannulf swore under his breath. “And who am I fleeing from? The Normans?” he sounded bitter.

“Aye. Who else?”

“Who else indeed? Do you still nurse a hatred against all their race?” he enquired, staring intently at his sandals.

“I do. I shall never forget that a Norman murdered my father. Never forgive it. And my mother died too.”

Rannulf’s head came up.

“The Baron did not actually use a sword on her—though he might as well have done. My mother was granted sanctuary by the Abbot. She did not see the month out. She had been ill, but it was the Baron who caused her death. She died of a broken heart.”

“And you hate every Norman alive?”

Judith nodded. “Devils every one,” she confirmed “They contaminate God’s earth. If I could call down a pestilence to eliminate them all, I would.

“Baron Hugo oppresses our people. Justice is a thing of the past. You must know that, Rannulf. You must have seen what was going on before you left. De Mandeville disinherited the true heirs to the land, and ever since then he’s done whatever he pleases.” And recently, since Lady de Mandeville’s death, Judith thought, the Baron’s activities had made the Devil seem angelic.

“I believe that the sole reason I’m here in this—” Judith choked “—in this…place, is because the Baron must have found out I knew about his squalid deals with the slavers. He knew I’d denounce him to the Abbot. Why, if someone cut out his black heart and fed it to the swine—I’d bless them for it!”

“Judith—” Rannulf shoved his hand through his hair and gave her a despairing look.

Judith stiffened. “My language offends you?”

Rannulf shook his head. “Nay. But…Judith, you cannot blame all of his race.”

Judith lifted her chin and maintained a stony silence.

Rannulf sighed. “Is there no forgiveness to be found in your heart?”

“Not for any Norman.”

He smiled. “I do not believe you. I do not believe you could be so narrow.”

Judith shrugged.

“Take care, Judith, lest your heart turn to stone,” Rannulf warned. “It would seem I misread you, all those years ago. I thought you a gentle, delicate maid—”

“I’ve changed,” Judith declared flatly. “I’ve had to. Living as I’ve had to would change anyone.”

Rannulf’s green eyes caught hers.

Judith felt her cheeks grown warm. It was as though he would see into her soul. She wriggled on her cushion, and tore her eyes away. “Rannulf…you must agree de Mandeville is worse than any plague? Do you not know what has been happening?”

Rannulf ran his hand round the back of his neck. “I’ve been away too long. I left England for the crusade very soon after your f…after we last saw each other. I was led to believe that the Baron had reformed. I was told he was ruling with wisdom and justice. I wanted to believe those reports.”

Judith snorted. “Wisdom! Justice! That man doesn’t know the meaning of the words! Don’t glower at me like that, Rannulf. Oh, I don’t want to talk about Baron Hugo,” she sighed. “I’ve had enough of coming to blows over him in the past. I’ll worry about him when I get back home—if I ever do.” Tears pricked behind her eyes. She averted her head, and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, but, even so, her eyes swam.

For a few moments she had forgotten the reality of her situation. She was a prisoner in a House of Pleasure. Misery engulfed her. Would she ever see England again? A tear trailed down her cheek. She tried chewing her forefinger. A second tear followed the path of the first.

Rannulf pulled her hand from her mouth. “You will return. I shall help you,” he promised, squeezing her hand.

Her shaming tears forgotten, Judith stared at him, and tried not to cling too hard to his hand. “You…you can get me home?”

Gentle fingertips brushed away her tears. Rannulf nodded. “Of course. Why do you think I am here?”

Judith went scarlet.

Rannulf’s eyes crinkled, but he chose not to tease her. “First, we’ll sneak you out of this place.” He raised a brow. “I take it you’ll accept my assistance?”

“Accept? Oh, aye. I accept,” Judith blurted eagerly. “But how? It won’t be easy.”

“You’re right. It won’t be easy. But, then, if something’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for, is it not?”

There was a strange edge to his voice. She shot him a sharp glance under her lashes, but his expression was bland.

“I tried to arrange your escape for tonight,” Rannulf informed her. “But it wasn’t possible in the short time I had. You’ll have to stay here another night.”

Her heart dropped like a stone. “But that would mean me spending another whole day here. They might find me another…another…” She gulped and tried again. “What I mean is, I might have to…”

Rannulf was at her side in a moment. Judith’s hand met his halfway. Long, brown fingers closed over hers. His eyes were very dark.

“It seems you’ll make a beggar of me yet, Judith,” he declared. “I’ll pay for the pleasure of your company till we can get you out.”

Judith gripped his fingers. Green eyes were smiling into hers, but there was something oddly intent about his face that made her stomach flutter.

“Do you agree, my maid?”

“My thanks,” Judith mumbled. She closed her eyes. Why was it that relief made one weak? She knew she should force her fingers to free Rannulf’s hand. He was too close. She felt strangely disoriented. It must be the after-effects of the drug.

She felt him lift her hand, turn it palm uppermost, felt a light pressure on her palm that might have been a kiss, and her eyes snapped open.

She was too late. Rannulf had released her, and turned to the table, and she was scowling at his back. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” Rannulf enquired innocently over his shoulder. “What did I do?”

Judith flushed.

“Some wine, my lady?” Rannulf held out a goblet.

He was mocking her. “You know I’m not a lady, and I’m certainly not yours!” she snapped.

Rannulf put his hand on his heart. “I can live in hope, can I not?”

“Oh, you’re impossible!” Judith snatched at the cup, but felt the beginnings of a smile tremble on her lips. “If it weren’t for the fact that I need you, I’d wish you to the Devil!”