A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden #4)

After all, she did not wish for him to leave without learning whatever he had gleaned from his investigation—if anything.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said. “But I have very little of import to share.”

She smiled, realizing he likely felt as most men did—that women had little interest or need to know unpleasant details. “Very well, then, Sir Duncan. Then it shall take you no great time to tell me what you’ve learned. You followed one of our attackers and what did you discover?”

If the circumstances would have been different, she might have found his consternation amusing. He was hardly able to control a grimace of confusion, and she could nearly read his expression as he struggled with how to obey her implicit command. In the end, however, honor and respect won out.

“Aye, my lady. I followed him to an inn. I bethought ’twould be best to listen and see what I could learn, rather than to engage in battle. I overheard enough conversation betwixt him and some others to learn that a message had been given out that a particular lady would be traveling on a certain route. And that if the lady were to be—er—removed from the presence of her companions, there was a very powerful person who would be most appreciative. And pay a large ransom.” Duncan glanced at her apologetically, and Judith gestured for him to continue.

“Was there any indication who this powerful person might be?” she asked when he hesitated. Her voice was calm, for none of this was new information to her.

“It was stressed that the lady should not be harmed and that if she was, there would be no appreciation shown to the ransomers.”

“I see. And there was no further information given? How was the ransom to be paid? How were the abductors to contact this powerful person?”

Duncan seemed more than mildly surprised at her interrogation, but he recovered quickly. “Those were the very same questions I wondered myself, my lady. To take the time to explain how I learned the answers would be tedious—”

“Aye,” she agreed. “So you may simply tell me what you learned, rather than the method used.”

“There was to be a message sent through the inn at Perrymont, for the name of Thurston.” Judith’s expression must have betrayed her, for Duncan ceased speaking. “My lady?”

“You need say no more,” she told him. “For to speak anything further could cause danger to us both. Now, I bid you take your ease. They will serve you in the hall, and you may ask Gerald for direction to a chamber for rest and any other need you may have—a bath, a woman, your armor seen to. Thank you, Sir Duncan. You have given me every information I need to know.” And though her heart was heavy with the knowledge that it had, indeed, been Eleanor behind the attempted abduction, Judith managed a warm smile for her husband’s loyal man.

She knew that Thurston was a mercenary who did particular types of tasks for the queen. Few knew of his existence because of the matter of work he did—carrying out orders and commands that the queen preferred to be done in the dark and private. She doubted even King Henry knew of Thurston’s existence, for Eleanor was a very canny woman.

Judith immediately called for one of her men, then for parchment, a pen, and ink. Grateful that Malcolm could read and write himself—for such a skill was oft reserved only for the clerics and monks, and ’twas the rare lord (and even rarer gentlelady) who was schooled in such learnings—she composed a letter to him.

My lord husband, Malcolm de Monde, Lord of Warwick, Baron of Beesley, Baron of Huntesmeade, Lord of Kentworth and Lord of Lilyfare….

I am in receipt of conversation from your man, Duncan of Merrywerth. He shall be traveling to Warwick on the morrow, but I wished to preface his arrival with some information you might find valuable. Thus I am sending this missive ahead of his departure. A particular personage who is well known to both of us, and in fact was the subject of my position in our recent discussion, has on many occasions been known to travel to a shire by the name of Thurston.

Here Judith paused, looking down at her neatly inked words. She must take care not to write anything that could put her in danger, nor clearly divulge what she knew so well in the event this message fell into the wrong hands Accusing the queen of such perfidy was not only tantamount to treason, it was simply dangerous.

But even if Mal did not at first understand her reference to Thurston, surely he would quiz Duncan about it and the pieces would become clear to him. Judith returned her attention to the missive, thought for a moment, then added, I pray this missive finds you well and safely traveled to your destination.

Then, a flare of irritation spurred her to add, And that you had an enjoyable visit at Delbring.

Judith looked at the words, sprinkling sand over the ink to help it dry. After a moment, she tipped the parchment up and the loose sand slid onto the table. She was tempted to add ‘Give my regards to Lady Beatrice,’ but she did not have the courage to do so.

Instead, Judith dipped her pen in the ink and, in another moment of contrariness, signed the missive: Your ever-faithful wife. Then she added the formality: Judith of Kentworth, Lady of Kentworth, Lady of Lilyfare, Lady of Warwick, at Lilyfare, this date of July 28, 1166.

She sanded those last words, then once she was certain the ink was dry, Judith closed the message with her wax seal and gave it to the waiting Sir Waldren.

“Deliver you this to Lord Warwick and no other. Travel first to Delbring, where he…where he may still be in residence,” she forced herself to add smoothly, “and then look for him at Warwick—or whatever path he may have gone, according to those at Delbring. You may wait for a response, but if none is forthcoming, you will return to me within one day.”

At the least, then she would know how long Malcolm remained at Delbring. With Lady Beatrice.

There was much to do at Lilyfare since Judith returned. Over the next fortnight, she met with Sir Roger many times, going over the ledgers, reviewing a list of improvements and repairs that must be done, sitting in judgment over issues rising between the villagers, inspecting the household inventories, and taking the maids, seamstresses and cook staff to task. Her years with the queen served her well, for she’d learned much about managing a household—as well as its people—effectively.

After seeing the state of affairs in the kitchen, in fact, Judith was astonished that her welcoming feast had been so extensive and delicious—for the day-to-day activities therein didn’t bear out the excellent meal she’d been served. And so she attended to the most pressing problems there, naming a new head cook and rearranging the tasks of the cooking serfs.

She also spent a considerable amount of time examining the mews. Tessing and the falcons should arrive any day, and it had been years since the mews had been used. There were many repairs to be done, and Judith and her mentor had learned much during their exposure to the Far Eastern methods of falconry through the royal court. She wished to prepare the mews for some of these more modern techniques.

’Twas just in time that she had the mews put to rights, for only five days after Sir Duncan’s arrival at Lilyfare, the caravan from Clarendon arrived bearing Tessing, Tabatha, and the remainder of Judith’s belongings.

Judith managed to hide her loneliness and confusion at first. She showed Tessing the improved mews and directed a delighted Tabby to the small lean-to structure she’d had repaired near the stables for the promised animal infirmary. Then she gave direction for which trunks were to be carried where and unpacked, and made certain all in the party—whether they be from Warwick or Lilyfare—had comfortable places to sleep and sustenance.

But when she and Tabatha were alone in the large bedchamber she should have been sharing with Malcolm, all pretenses were dropped.

“Where is my lord?” Tabby asked nearly as soon as the door was closed behind them.

Judith could hold her emotions back no longer. “He is gone. He has left.” She swiped roughly at sudden tears, wondering when in her life she’d ever been so easily set to weeping as she had been in the last months.

“What has happened? Did you quarrel?” Tabby asked even as she began to tidy up the chamber.

“Nay! He hardly darkened the threshold of Lilyfare before he was off…to Delbring.”

Tabatha started and looked over at her. “What do you say? He has left you to go to Delbring?”

“Nay…at the least—I don’t…know. He said he was going to Warwick, but would stop at Delbring for the night. He could not even sleep one night here in Lilyfare, but he had to leave for Delbring at the nonce.” Now Judith was beginning to rage about the chamber. “And I have heard naught from him, nor from Sir Waldren, whom I sent after with a message.”

She paced the chamber, going to the window and peering out over the yellow and white dotted heath, then back again. Why had Sir Waldren not returned with a message from Malcolm? She’d given him strict orders, and it had been enough days for him to have found Mal and returned.

Judith realized Tabatha had gone surprisingly quiet. Most oft, the tiring woman usually had plenty of unsolicited advice or questions, but now she was uncharacteristically silent. “Tabby,” she said sharply when she saw the expression on her maid’s face. Something lurched in her belly. “What is it? What do you know?”

Tabatha slowly finished folding the bliaut she’d removed from one of the traveling boxes, sliding it into place in the permanent storage trunk in the corner of the chamber. “Ah, my lady…I do not know—”

“What is it?” Judith demanded, her heart seizing. “There is something. Tell me.”

“’Tis only that I heard some information from Sir Nevril on our journey. How Lord Warwick was in a fine, light-hearted mood for some time while at Clarendon…and that he was sending many messages to Delbring, negotiating a marriage contract with the lord there. And then all at once, he became angry and bad-tempered again. And on the next, you and he were wed.”

Judith’s heart dropped to her knees and she suddenly felt ill. Beatrice of Delbring? That mouse? The queen’s words and Judith’s own jests rang in her ears. Nay.