Kohl, Candice - A Twist in Time.txt

by A Twist in Time. txt (lit)

  briefly before I go.”

  “She’s not my chattel,” Andrew pointed out with a

  casual shrug. “Fare you well, my friend. Let us hope we

  see each other again before we find ourselves on the

  same battlefield.”

  “Wait! Andrew, about the matter we spoke of earlier.

  I pray you send another messenger if you don’t hear

  from the first before day’s end. ’Tis important to me.”

  “If my man is lost or waylaid, I shall definitely send

  another,” he promised before clapping Philip on the

  shoulder and jogging up to the keep’s entrance.

  Judy had a dozen questions she wished to ask. But

  the effort it took to remind herself this business really

  was happening, that the flurry of activity portended

  bloody battles waged with swords, staffs and maces,

  prevented her from formulating her questions into

  words. She merely stood there, staring up at Philip, her

  mouth agape.

  “Come,” he urged, tugging on her sleeve and leading

  her out of the way. When they reached the shadow of

  the keep’s walls, he placed both his hands on her

  shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “Are you well,

  Judith? Does Andrew treat you kindly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you remembered anything? Your family, your

  home...?” His blue eyes studied hers. His queries were

  not casual.

  “No, Philip.” Judy had told the lie so often, her

  concocted amnesia story had begun to feel like the truth.

  “I still don’t recall any particulars, so I don’t know if

  that man who lives in York, Sir Peter Lamb, is related

  to me. I’m sorry.”

  “Sweet Jesu, so am I.” He shook his head and

  furrowed his brow. “Judith, would that I knew you were

  a free damsel, neither unwed nor betrothed.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again softly. It never

  occurred to her to confide in Philip, to tell him the truth.

  If she did, if she admitted to knowing in fact that she

  remained single—no live-in “significant other” or

  anything—then she would have to confess the rest. And

  Judy could not confide those details to Philip. Somehow,

  intuitively, she knew he could never accept them.

  When—if—they married, he had to believe her a woman

  of his own time.

  “Andrew was correct, Judith. I must hasten away

  immediately. No one has managed to make a priest of

  me yet,” he said, smiling, “so I shall have to fight in

  this barons’ war against the king.”

  “When, Philip? When will the actual fighting begin?

  Will it be—here?”

  “Nay, sweetling. Do not fear. There’s little chance

  battles will rage here at Laycock or North Cross. We

  will attack, not defend, and we will attack John’s fiefs.

  But there is still time to hope the tide shall turn, and

  that self-serving cockshead we call our king will put

  his hand and his seal to our terms. In the meanwhile,

  though, we must prepare.”

  “And you must go.”

  “Aye. But I shall return, I promise.”

  Drawing her to him, Philip kissed Judy full upon

  the lips. Though she attempted to kiss him back, she

  never raised her arms from her sides, so her effort

  lacked a certain enthusiasm. Judy felt wiped out, as

  though Andrew had earlier drained her of all passion.

  ***

  Andrew sat with his brothers at the high table. While

  they ate and talked with their mouths full, he nursed a

  goblet of wine and watched the door. Where, by all the

  saints, was Judith? What were she and Philip doing

  together so long?

  Suddenly, Andrew spied Judith at the entrance to

  the hall, looking around and clutching her satchel to

  her chest. When she saw the company at the dais table,

  she began making her way to the stairs, avoiding not

  only the servants but the cavorting hounds and their

  puppies as she clung to the shadowy walls, attempting

  to be inconspicuous. Clever girl.

  “God’s wounds, ’tis the wench! Why...?” Elfred pointed

  at Judith but turned to Andrew questioningly.

  Judith froze and Andrew responded. “You knew she

  remained when you left.”

  “Aye, but that was some time ago. Surely you’ve tired

  of her charms, if she had any.”

  Andrew held his temper in check, saying only, “I

  have attempted to contact her kin.”

  “You know who they be?” Robin asked, leaning

  forward to rest his arms on the table as he looked

  curiously at Andrew.

  “Philip does. He says she’s the daughter of a knight

  called Peter Lamb.”

  “You’ve sent word to him, to this Sir Peter?”

  “Philip wrote a missive, aye,” Andrew hedged.

  “Why is she wearing our sister’s clothes?” Elfred

  demanded.

  “Because she had nothing suitable of her own. Don’t

  take such offence, brother. They belong to Camilla, not

  to you.”

  Andrew saw Judith take another, small step in the

  direction of the stairs. So did Robin, apparently, for he

  ordered, “Come here, wench.”

  Again she halted, but after spinning on her heels,

  she strode purposefully toward the dais and stopped

  directly before Robin. “I am not a wench,” she informed

  him. “I am a grown woman, and I have a name, as you

  well know.”

  Andrew held a short breath and glanced at his eldest

  brother sidelong. But Robin merely raised his eyebrows

  and drawled, “Forgive me, Lady Judith.”

  “Lady!” Elfred said. “Because Philip of North Cross

  thinks she’s kin to some knight I’ve never heard of does

  not make it so. How can you even address her as such

  in jest? Look at her, Robin. Our sister’s gown fails to

  transform her. She still resembles a peasant, a rain-

  soaked one at that.”

  “I do not,” Judith countered, and Andrew slid down

  in his chair, half covering his brow with one hand.

  “Andrew—Lord Andrew—denied me permission to bathe

  in my room.” She leaned forward, toward Elfred, and

  sniffed, as though she could smell his body’s scent and

  found it offensive. “Since I am prone to personal

  cleanliness, I chose to bathe in the stream. My hair is

  wet only because I just now returned from there.”

  “He forbade you, a fine lady, to bathe in the keep?”

  Elfred repeated, considering Andrew thoughtfully. “You

  no more believe she’s gently born than I do, eh, brother?”

  “I do not disbelieve she is gently born.”

  Elfred chortled. “Sweet Mother Mary—is the wench

  that good between the sheets?”

  Andrew sat straighter and clenched his fist. But the

  taste of Judith’s skin, her shoulder, her breast, burst

  on his tongue. For the briefest moment, he found

  himself distracted. He did not hit Elfred, he did not say

  a word.

  “Whether or not I’m gently born may be in question,”

  Judith conceded. “Bu
t it’s obvious none of you are

  gentlemen.”

  “Woman, watch your tongue,” Robin warned.

  She bit her lip but turned her head to glare at Andrew

  as she complained in a low voice, “It’s bad enough your

  brother insults me. But you let him.”

  He had, indeed. Judith owned a right to feel angry.

  But even if a lady born and bred, she had no right to

  speak to him and his brothers in that manner.

  “Look at her!” Elfred said, giving Andrew a start. “Look

  at her eyes! Methinks she’s casting a spell on you,

  Andrew.”

  Judith’s green eyes blazed. But Andrew understood

  she cursed him only with silent expletives, not with

  incantations. Still, he knew no good would come from

  anything she might now say. So he stood, intending to

  lead Judith out of the great hall before Robin sided openly

  with Elfred.

  He had yet to round the table and reach her side

  when Judith thrust a finger at Elfred and countered in

  a threatening tone, “Nay! I am casting a spell on you.”

  Andrew’s brother nearly toppled off his chair and the

  dais.

  “Elfred, must you always behave the fool when in

  this woman’s presence?” Robin chided. “Whether the

  girl is the get of a baron or a crofter, she is naught but

  female. Surely she can do you no harm.”

  “God’s bloody wounds!” Elfred scowled darkly at Robin.

  “Am I the only one among us three with all his wits?

  She is, if naught else, a stranger who has managed to

  get herself inside our home during these troubled times.

  Andrew thinks only with his cock, letting her have free

  rein at Laycock, well beyond the bed he shares with

  her. And you, Robin, credit her not at all. You believe

  her no more harmful than a fly, though with her magic

  satchel, she stands before us conjuring.”

  “Conjuring, am I?” Opening her bag, Judith retrieved

  some implement and gripped it tightly in her fist.

  Andrew saw Judith flick her thumb, and suddenly—

  magically?— a flame appeared. It looked as though her

  hand were ablaze.

  Andrew found himself gasping nearly as loudly as

  his brothers. But he felt amazed, not frightened, and he

  did not cringe as he saw Elfred doing, staring in

  undisguised horror at Judith’s flaming fist.

  She leapt onto the dais before Andrew realized her

  intent. As she did, the flame went out. But Judith

  grinned at Elfred, looking purposely evil. And she asked,

  “Would you like to see it again?”

  With another flick of her thumb, the flame

  reappeared. She used it to light a pair of candles on the

  table.

  “I am a witch,” she informed Elfred gleefully. “So you

  had better stop insulting me and suggesting I am one

  nasty thing or another, or I’ll— turn you into a toad.”

  The bearded knight crossed himself and looked to

  his elder brother. “Robin, do something!”

  “Andrew?” Robin said, turning to him.

  “She is not a witch,” he insisted, wishing to God his

  brothers had not returned here, even briefly. Joining

  Judith, he whispered in her ear, “And you’re a damnable

  fool for saying you are.” Then he grabbed the device she

  had kept concealed and held it up—a curious black tube

  about as long and as thick as his finger. “Look,” he told

  them. “’Tis a tool of some kind. Surely Judith’s sire,

  who is known to be an alchemist and an inventor,

  fashioned it.”

  “He made a stick that bursts into flame upon

  command? That cannot be.” Elfred shook his head.

  “You saw it with your own eyes, did you not?” Andrew

  asked him. “How can you question what you’ve seen

  with your own eyes? This thing exists. It makes fire.

  Show them, Judith.”

  She glowered sullenly.

  “Do you want to be drowned before your father can

  claim you, before you are reunited with your family?”

  He spoke softly but looked at her sharply.

  Judith sighed and took the smooth, shiny tube from

  him. Andrew observed her flick a thumb against a tiny

  wheel and the modest flame leaped up still again.

  “Your sire crafted that fire-maker?” Robin asked

  Judith.

  “I guess.”

  His dark eyes met Andrew’s, so like his own. “This

  Peter Lamb must be clever in the extreme. He must

  also lay claim to great wealth, for a fire-starting

  implement such as that would be sought by any and all.

  I know I would pay a great sum to own one.”

  Andrew nodded. “Judith’s sire must have great stores

  of riches. And a rich man would surely reward any who

  cared for his lost and homeless daughter, don’t you

  agree?”

  He nodded thoughtfully, but Elfred resumed his

  protest. “Mayhap her sire is a wizard, a sorcerer.

  Methinks he is, and that the fire-starter was created

  by unearthly methods.”

  “If so,” Andrew asked, “what matter?”

  “It matters because all magic is evil. You know the

  Church repudiates all wizards and witches, along with

  their enchantments.” He turned to Robin and pleaded,

  “Send her away.”

  “Nay.” The baron’s eldest son shook his head

  emphatically. “’Tis in our best interest to wait for word

  from the alchemist. He may, as Andrew suggested, wish

  to reward us for taking care of the wench during her

  time of misfortune.”

  “But it is Beltane! If she be a witch, not a simple

  knight’s daughter—”

  “Lock her up,” Robin told Andrew, interrupting

  Elfred’s lament.

  “Lock her up? She is a guest,” Andrew returned.

  “Mayhap she is a guest. Mayhap she is a peasant

  who’s deceived you so that she may live in comfort for a

  while. Or mayhap, as Elfred fears, she is a sorceress.

  Until we know which she might be, she should be

  confined in her chamber.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “Andrew, dare not defy me,” Robin warned. “’Tis only

  for the night, for Beltane.”

  “What!” Elfred said in dismay. “Only this eve? What

  if she means us harm?”

  “If she meant us harm, she would already have

  wrought her evil spells and brought us low, don’t you

  think?”

  “But—she threatened to turn me into a toad.”

  “A simple enough task, certainly.”

  Andrew bit back a grin at Robin’s quip. But Elfred

  continued to remonstrate. “What if her sire—should that

  alchemist Andrew mentioned indeed be her sire—fails

  to claim her before we depart again? What if then...”

  Andrew heard no more of his brothers’ conversation,

  for he was escorting Judith quickly to the stairs. Already

  they had climbed enough steps to be well beyond hearing

  the discourse at the high table.

  “Slow down,” Judy demanded. “I’m coming. You don’t

  have to drag me!”

  “Be still,” Andrew
snapped, nudging open her

  bedroom door before pushing her into the room. “You

  are such a fool!”

  “Me? A fool? What did I do?”

  “You know very well what you did. You baited Elfred,

  declared yourself a witch, and then—” He held up the

  tote by its handle. “—Then you showed him another of

  your fantastic devices. Do you wish to be cast out? Or

  worse, drowned?”

  “I always thought witches were burned at the stake.”

  “Don’t be frivolous!” Andrew said, slamming the door

  closed.

  “I’m not frivolous, I’m angry. Your idiot brother

  insulted me, and you didn’t say so much as a word in

  my defense. You forced me to defend my own honor, so

  while I was at it, I decided to scare the pants off old

  Freddie.”

  “‘Old Freddie?’” Andrew made a face and shook his

  head. Then he said sternly, “I am deadly serious. Have

  you no concern for the consequences of your behavior?

  Or do you seriously believe Philip will come to your

  rescue in some fashion?”

  “He will. He won’t let anything happen to me. He—

  cares for me,” Judy informed him, unsure herself

  whether or not Philip actually loved her. “He wants to

  marry me, not just jump my bones.”

  Andrew’s dark eyes seemed to bore holes into Judy’s

  until she had to look away. But she heard him say softly,

  “Woman, you deceive yourself.”

  “Are you saying he doesn’t?” she demanded, meeting

  his gaze again.

  “Nay. But what Philip wishes to do and what he will

  do may not prove to be the same thing.”

  Judy’s confidence ebbed. She felt herself skidding

  down the high she’d enjoyed while frightening Elfred so

  easily. Yet she stubbornly accused Andrew of jealousy.

  “You’re just saying that because you want to get laid.

  You want to have your way with me, even though you

  promised not to try it again. And you did try again, in

  case you weren’t aware,” she added petulantly.

  “You did not seem unreceptive to my advances.”

  She blushed. “What would you know? Besides, I didn’t

  let you get what you were after. I wouldn’t do that—to—

  Philip.”

  It seemed Andrew’s turn to flush darkly. “You take

  great risks, Judith,” he said finally. “I hope you know

  what you’re about. I hope, despite your insistence

  otherwise, that you do recall your home and family and