true love.” His eyes locked on Judy’s. “I should very much
like to know true love myself one day, but I fear I haven’t
the time required to search for it. I suppose I’d best hie
myself off to Winfield and make do.”
Flashing a sheepish smile, Philip took Judy’s hand.
“Forgive me, my lady. My only excuse is that I did care
for you greatly. In truth, I still do. But I see now that
Andrew loves you more than I ever would, because he’s
made a sacrifice I never could.” He released Judy’s
fingers and looked up at Andrew. “You are indeed the
better man.”
They hugged, as men did in this time, not in Judy’s.
Then Philip wheeled toward the women who had
returned to their chairs. “Forgive me, my ladies, for
behaving so badly and disrupting your hall. The next
time I visit, I vow I shall be better mannered, for
hopefully, I’ll have a new bride on my arm.”
“You’re forgiven,” Lady Ardith assured him with a
smile and a nod. “You are always forgiven.”
Philip left quickly then.
Beatrix observed, “We seem to have missed a great
deal while we were away. Who is Lady Penelope?”
“Never mind that now,” Camilla said. “Wherever did
that dagger come from?”
Camilla wouldn’t let Judy rewrap the knife. She took
it, admired the hilt, and passed it on to her sister.
“Judith helped me obtain that ceremonial blade,”
Andrew admitted. “She would make a fine merchant,
the way she barters down a price. ’Tis a gift for Father
on his natal day.”
“It is beautiful. He’ll be well-pleased,” Beatrix
predicted.
“Have you had word from him?” Andrew asked his
mother.
“Reports are that matters with the king are
proceeding smoothly. No doubt he should be returning
soon.” Ardith turned to look at Judy. “I see you are handy
with a weapon, dear. How are you with a needle or a pot
and a spoon?”
Judy blinked. She couldn’t sew a button on that
stayed put through one machine washing. Her culinary
skills centered on microwaves and frozen entrees,
though she could stir fry just about any combination of
ingredients. But Judy suspected Chinese food rarely
appeared on the menu at Laycock Keep.
“Mother, I have no land, no keep or manse,” Andrew
reminded Ardith. “Judith has, therefore, no need to learn
the skills of a chatelaine.”
“But she said she was raised up a lady,” Beatrix
recalled.
“The customs in her country are different than
ours.”
“What country is that?” Camilla asked.
“It’s called America,” Andrew said truthfully.
“You’re correct. I never have heard of it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, and Judy sensed he
felt as tense now as she had been earlier. “While at
Laycock, Judith should be treated as a guest. When we
leave—”
“When you leave,” Ardith put in, “Judith will have to
make you a home wherever you go. And she is in
England, now, so while you are here, let me help prepare
her for the duties of a wife wed to a Laycock lord.”
“Mother, please.”
“It’s all right, Andrew.” Judy put her hand on his
arm. “I do have to learn your ways. I don’t think we have
any intention of returning to my homeland, do we?”
He gave her a look as Ardith said, “You’re a wise
woman, Judith. Now, come with me.”
***
Judy stood over a cauldron in the bailey. She and
Sally were stirring the family’s woolens as they soaked
in vats of water boiling over open fires.
She remembered envying the common folk who
toiled as laborers at Laycock Keep. She had thought even
their endless chores seemed preferable to the boredom
she’d known. Boy, had she been wrong.
It never ended. From dawn to dusk and beyond, seven
days a week, when she completed one task another
demanded her attention. Or whatever she’d finished
needed doing all over again. That old saw about a
woman’s work never being done must have had its
origins in medieval times. Women who complained in
her own era hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.
And what was with this laundry? It had seemed to
Judy, during those first weeks she’d lived at Laycock
Keep, that the wash house sat neglected, these very
cauldrons upended and dusty from disuse. Since Lady
Ardith had arrived, the bottoms never had a chance to
dry before they were refilled with water and clothing.
The belief that the aristocracy lived lives of
pampered leisure was a crock, too. Judy noticed she
was standing out here in the sun, stirring stinky, wet
wool right alongside Sally. Except for their clothing,
nobody could have discerned who was the lady, who was
the servant!
She grumbled a profanity beneath her breath,
wiping her damp brow with the back of her hand. She
didn’t know if the moisture was sweat or steam, but
she knew she’d give anything to take a dip in that frigid
stream that flowed through the demesne.
“Milady!”
She thought Sally intended to reprimand her for
swearing. But when she glanced at the girl, she found
her pointing toward the keep. “What is it?”
“The baron is home, along with Lords Elfred and
Robin.”
Judy shaded her eyes with her hand. Three men
had indeed ridden into the bailey. They were
dismounting and heading inside the keep even now.
“Give me that.” Sally took the wooden pole Judy had
been using to stir her kettle of wash. “You’d best go
indoors. I’m sure Lord Andrew will be wanting to
introduce you.”
“Oh, no! I look awful.”
“Nay, you do not, Lady Judith. Just put your scarf
back on.” Sally handed her the discarded veil and the
pounded brass circlet that would hold it in place. “Lord
Thomas might find your shorn locks a trifle unusual.”
“Great.” Judy slapped the head gear on and arranged
the gauzy scarf so that it draped the sides of her face,
obscuring her short hair. Then, resigned but a little
curious, she headed up to the keep.
Everyone had gathered in the great hall except for
Andrew. Noticing his absence, Judy hung back, clinging
to the shadows of the stone arch.
“Judith, come here,” Ardith beckoned with a wave.
Reluctantly, she crossed the room to the opposite end
where the Laycock clan had settled themselves in a
grouping of chairs near the fire pit. “Thomas, I’ve
someone you must meet.”
“You!” Elfred said, pointing at her. “You remain here?”
“Aye, of course she does,” his mother told him.
“Judith is Andrew’s wife.”
“Wife! He took the witch to wife?” He addressed his
question to some
one behind Judy.
“Damn you to hell, Elfred—Judith is not a witch,”
Andrew returned, shouting from the doorway. Then he
stomped angrily across the room toward his family,
halting only when he stood nose-to-nose with Elfred.
“Control yourselves, lads,” Thomas of Laycock
ordered sternly. “What is this your mother tells me,
Andrew? You’ve taken a wife?”
The baron shifted his gaze to peer at Judy
appraisingly, and she returned his perusal. Lord Thomas
remained a good-looking man, straight backed and
square shouldered, though he had more gray than brown
in his hair and his beard. Judy realized that in 30 years,
Andrew would look much the same.
“Aye, Father,” he confirmed. “Allow me to introduce
Lady Judith.”
“Though a surprise, ’tis a pleasure.” He nodded at
her, his dark eyes alight.
“A pleasure to meet you, my lord,” Judy returned.
“I did not expect this,” Robin admitted, looking at
Andrew.
“Nor I, last time we spoke.”
“Then she is Peter Lamb’s daughter?” Elfred asked,
looking skeptical as he cocked one eyebrow.
“Do not speak of my wife as though she were absent,”
Andrew warned.
“Sit, please,” the baron ordered, gesturing to Judy
and Andrew.
They took the last empty chairs, and though Judy
didn’t know what the protocol was, she ventured to
answer Elfred’s question. “No,” she said, “I am not related
to Peter Lamb.”
“I knew it! She’s a sorceress who’s bewitched
Andrew.”
Lord Thomas said nothing. He merely turned his
head and gave his middle son a look that caused Elfred
to clamp his lips shut so tightly, they bled white.
“Tell me where you hail from, my lady, and how you
came to wed my youngest son.”
Judy had her story down pat now. She related it again
for the baron’s benefit.
“Fascinating,” he said when she finished. Judy
wondered if he used that word as she used “interesting”
when commenting on a manuscript she didn’t care for.
Then Lord Thomas settled his gaze on Andrew.
“Latter born sons usually wed women who have the
means to support them, through wealth or land. Your
bride admits having naught, Andrew. What do you
intend?”
“My choices remain the same, Father, except I’d no
longer consider the priesthood.” He smiled at his own
little joke. Then the smile vanished, and he said
soberly, “Judith and I shall leave Laycock. I will hire
myself out to some baron or landed lord who needs
another good sword arm to protect his fief. Mayhap,
though...” He hesitated. “Mayhap Judith could remain
with you at the keep while I am away.”
Judy felt as though she’d been sucker-punched.
Andrew had married her, and now he intended to leave
her to be one of those knights who dined in the hall and
slept on the floor in some other lord’s keep? “Andrew!”
He ignored her soft cry and said to his father, “Before
we speak of this matter in earnest, I’ve something for
you. ’Tis why Judith and I remained at Laycock awaiting
your return.”
Judy glanced at Andrew’s lap. The cloth-wrapped
dagger lay on his thighs.
“I’ve something for you as well, Andrew. I have a few
drafts of the barons’ demands, to which the king put his
hand. Since he finally signed the charter itself, I thought
you might be curious to read what we devised. Among
you three—” Thomas glanced at all his sons— “you have
always been the most curious.”
Judy felt her heart skip a beat. If she were not so
distraught over her husband’s plans to abandon her to
earn a living as a mercenary warrior, she’d have
indulged in amazement. To think, Lord Thomas had just
brought home the very parchments that would survive
to her own time, when Carla would visit Viscount
Laycock to study them for her book!
Andrew must have realized the same. He glanced
at Judy sidelong, though he spoke to his father. “Thank
you. I am keen to read them. But now, in honor of your
natal day.” He handed the knife to Thomas.
The baron unwrapped it and held the weapon up. A
shaft of sunlight piercing the stone wall through the
cross-shaped arrow slits hit the garnets and amethysts,
the topazes and aquamarines, so that white light speared
and flickered off the hilt. Those who hadn’t seen the
dagger before, Andrew’s father and brothers, made soft
sounds of awe and admiration.
Thomas smiled warmly as he raised his dark eyes
to his youngest son’s. “Thank you, lad, from my heart. I
will treasure this weapon and see it holds an honored
place in our family for generations to come. All should
know ’twas you who gifted me with it.”
Andrew looked as pleased as his father. Judy should
have felt just as pleased—it was she who had helped
engineer this moment. But she couldn’t think of
anything but Andrew leaving her. The worry crowded
out all other thoughts and emotions.
Thomas himself returned to that topic. He said, “I
am a landed lord, a baron. I have need of trained men to
protect my keep, my demesne, and the people in the
village.”
“You are offering a position to Andrew?” Elfred
whined. “But he is your youngest. You’ve not offered
anything to me!”
Thomas looked at Elfred. “I thought you preferred
roaming the country with your comrades, entering
tourneys and the like.”
“I do. But—but I forewent such things to assist you
and Robin during the negotiations with Lackland.”
“Aye, you did. Well, Elfred, if you wish to be a
permanent knight in my employ, you’ve only to say so.”
“I do!” Elfred grinned. His smile turned rather smug,
Judy thought, when he turned toward Andrew.
“For you, though, Andrew, I have another position
in mind. One I’ve thought Laycock Keep has needed for
some time. Would you consider becoming my
seneschal?”
He didn’t reply yea or nay. Impatient, curious, Judy
whispered, “What’s a seneschal?”
“A castle-keeper,” Andrew explained. “Chief officer
in a baron’s household. Among other duties, the
seneschal represents his lord in courts of law.”
“Oh.” It sounded impressive. Better, it meant Andrew
would remain at Laycock Keep, and so could she. “Well,
say aye, you’ll be glad to,” she urged.
Andrew’s sisters giggled and Lady Ardith laughed.
“Say aye,” she prodded also. “’Tis best you learn to listen
to your lady wife and heed what she says.”
“Your mother is right,” Lord Thomas confirmed.
Andrew glanced at them all, his parents and Judy.
Then he nodded and said, “Aye.”
Twent
y-three
“Judith!”
She paused on the stairs, raised her sagging head,
and turned to look down. There, Beatrix stood on a lower
step just above the floor of the great hall. “Yes?”
“After the evening meal, Camilla and I will be sorting
flowers, roots and leaves to mix into tisanes. If you’d
like to join us, you’re welcome.”
“I’ll think about it,” Judy replied before continuing
up the stairs to her room.
She’d lied. She didn’t intend to think about sorting
weeds for medicinal use, unless— No. Whatever they
used in this era for a toothache could not cure the one
that had been nagging her since the evening the baron
had returned to Laycock Keep. The only procedure sure
to eliminate the pain was a root canal, which Judy’s
dentist had suggested she attend to promptly, but which,
of course, she had put off. Now she had no dentist! She
was even running out of aspirin and ibuprofen, popping
the pills as though they were breath mints. What, she
wondered, did people born to this time do when their
teeth hurt like hers did? Did they pull them? Judy
wouldn’t mind having her tooth pulled—by next week,
she’d pull it herself, if she had to. But it wasn’t the sort
of tooth a person could yank by tying a string to a
doorknob, and she didn’t dare conjecture about any
medieval methods for tooth extraction.
She shouldered open the door to hers and Andrew’s
room and stumbled inside. Long, late afternoon shadows
streaked the walls, for which she felt grateful. God knew
she needed peace, quiet, solitude and darkness.
Flinging off her annoying veil and chaplet, which
she wouldn’t have to wear if her hair was long enough
not to shock the family, Judy crawled onto the bed and
curled up in a fetal position. She wept, unsure whether
the pain in her mouth or the agony of her days made
her so miserable.
It could as easily have been the one as the other.
Her cheek felt swollen, but so did her feet, for she’d been
on them all day following Lady Ardith around the keep
and the demesne. Good grief, the woman never sat still
for a second! If she wasn’t supervising the servants,
she was seeing to the villagers, tending them in illness,
injury and childbirth. Or she was making beer. Judy
had never suspected Laycock Keep functioned as a
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