Baldwin released his dagger with a sigh; waiting was hard. He knew Ralf would come and release the bar on the gate as soon as the guard was far enough away not to hear, and then they would slip inside. Once they had dealt with the two-man patrol, they could make their way up to the convent and he could find Judith.
Just the thought of her made his heart pound. Dealing with the guards, sneaking through the darkness, fleeing this place; none of that made his stomach twist and his breath catch in his throat like the thought of seeing her again. His last memory of her was standing in the stable yard in Wessex before he rode away, longing to snatch her up onto his saddle and take her with him. That he hadn’t was a regret that had plagued him daily ever since.
Now, she was on the other side of the wall. He hoped she realised he would come for her. An abrupt noise startled him out of his reverie, a hollow rattle followed by the crunch of boots fading away into the distance. Then silence, and Gozfrid’s swift grin as another, more muffled noise came from the portal.
The gate swung open silently on well-oiled hinges, and both men slid around the gap Ralf had created. They helped him quietly lower the locking bar back onto the hasps, then set off at a crouching run towards the guard as he disappeared around the corner of the stockade.
Gozfrid shouldered the man to the ground, and Baldwin hooked his arm about the guard’s throat, bracing his wrist with his other hand. Slowly, he compressed the man’s windpipe, taking as much care as he could to only render him unconscious and not strangle him to death. The guard went limp, and Gozfrid began to drag him by the heels towards the barn, where a loud snoring could be heard. The other guards had imbibed more than their share of the drugged wine, and were undeniably oblivious to the night’s events.
Baldwin propped the guard against one of the uprights, securing the unconscious soldier’s wrists around the spar with a piece of sisal rope. Then he and Gozfrid went to look for the other man on patrol as Ralf bolted the barn door behind them.
The sentry was just walking towards the barn, whistling softly and fumbling beneath his tunic.
‘Be there in a minute, Sigram,’ he called in a whisper to the shadow that was Baldwin. ‘I just need to take a piss before I drink some of that wine. I hope those branleurs haven’t supped it all.’ He turned his back, urinating as he spoke, and Baldwin snaked his arm around the guard’s throat with a whispered apology.
‘All gone, my friend, but you can join their slumbers.’ The muffled shout was soon extinguished, and the man as unconscious as the rest of the guards. They carried him to the barn, and made sure the soldiers were securely locked inside.
Ralf pointed towards the convent, and all four of them ran up the slight incline and into the cloister. Pressing themselves to the wall, they felt along the sharp whitewashed stone until they came to a small studded door.
‘The side door to the church, Lord,’ whispered Adal, and Baldwin gave an abrupt nod.
‘Exactly where I need to be,’ he growled, twisting the latch as quietly as he could with his left hand, and drawing his seax with his right. He paused, and gazed at Ralf and Adal. ‘Ralf, find your sister and have her bring the Princess here immediately. Dressed, undressed, swathed in a sheet, I care not. Adal, fetch Father Bernard. Bound and gagged if necessary.’
They hurried away in different directions and Baldwin swung the door wide, stepping into the side gallery of the church, Gozfrid at his shoulder. Before him were half a dozen nuns, all telling their rosary and whispering prayers, while at the foot of the altar steps knelt an older, thinner nun whom Baldwin assumed to be in charge. She lifted her beatific gaze to the large golden crucifix over the altar, and then suddenly became aware of Baldwin’s presence.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she shouted, her harsh, strident voice echoing in the quiet of the church. She ignored the gasps of the others as their prayers were interrupted. ‘You are in the house of God. I insist you put up your blades and leave this place, before I summon the guard.’
Baldwin turned the hilt of his seax over in his hand, reluctant to sheath it quite yet. He had no way of knowing if the nun concealed a weapon in her habit, and he was unwilling to take the chance. ‘The soldiery is indisposed, Sister. And I have come to claim my bride.’
Sister Seraphina stood, fixing Baldwin with a withering look. ‘Your bride?’ she sneered. ‘We have no-one here who would be a bride to one such as you. We are daughters of Christ.’
Baldwin kept his tone even, despite the undercurrent of derision in the nun’s voice. ‘You have the Princess, Sister. She is to be my bride.’
The old nun looked him up and down, curling her lip contemptuously. ‘Do you have her father’s permission? Her father the King, may God bless and keep him?’ She feigned a look around the church, eyes passing scornfully over Gozfrid. ‘I see no royal messenger here.’
Baldwin held up his seax, the point towards her but the hilt held loosely in his hand. The thought that she may be armed had faded; her weapons were spite and scorn, he decided. And mere words held no terror for him. ‘This is messenger enough, Sister. I shall see my bride, and I shall marry her this night.’ His voice was reasonable, almost placatory, and he wanted to laugh, excited that Judith was mere moments from his sight.
‘I forbid it.’ Sister Seraphina drew herself up to her full height, glaring scornfully at Baldwin as if her disapproval were enough to put him to flight.
‘Sister, you can forbid it as much as you wish, but it will make no difference to the outcome.’ Baldwin stepped forward into the body of the church. The other nuns were silent, eyes huge in pale faces as they clutched one another’s arms in fright. He grinned at them roguishly and turned the remains of his smile on Sister Seraphina, who was trembling with indignation at his lack of deference.
‘I have loved her since she was two years old and I have waited for her for more than fourteen years, Sister. I have been thwarted by three kings, by time, by distance, by the God-damned weather and, on my oath, I shall not be thwarted by you.’ He pointed his dagger at her again as he strode towards the altar.
‘Father Bernard will marry us this night, and I shall make her my wife in truth, on that damned altar if I have to.’ He paused as the sisters behind him muffled their shrieks of protest, and his mouth twitched in another grim smile as he stepped to the side of the old nun, lowering his voice to an intimidating growl.
‘But Judith shall be mine at last. So it is your choice, Sister. Either you allow us to marry here, and have our union blessed by God,’ Baldwin raised one eyebrow suggestively, ‘or we simply have the consummation tonight on your beautifully embroidered altar cloth, and have the actual ceremony later.’
Quick footsteps on the marble floor attracted his attention, and he swung his eyes from Sister Seraphina, shocked into silence by his words, to the group who had appeared at the door.
Judith stood at the front of the knot of ladies, and he felt his shoulders relax beneath his cloak. Whatever happened from this moment, she was here at last!
He gazed at her silently for a heartbeat, drinking in the cloud of dark curls around her head, the emerald green gown that shimmered in the flickering light of the church candles and the expression of confusion and surprise on her beautiful face.
‘What is happening?’ Her gaze swung around. ‘Baldwin!’ A beatific smile swept across her countenance and she stepped forward, holding both hands towards him as if unsure that he was real. ‘How do you come to be here?’
He laughed, more a release of tension within his chest than any real amusement, and he grasped her fingers, pressing them to his lips. ‘You wrote and I came, my love. I met Adal in the tavern and he told me about your guards, but they were no match for me and Goz.’ He shrugged and drew her closer. ‘Now I have sent him for the priest.�
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Abruptly relinquishing her hands, Baldwin drew the blade from the throat of his scabbard, dropping to his knees and bowing his head onto hilt of his sword. He was dimly aware of the shrieks of the nuns, and a delighted giggle from one of Judith’s attendants.
‘I would marry you here, my love. Tonight. Sister Seraphina is less than happy with the situation, and would say us nay. Doubtless she will write to your father and tell him I took you against your will. So what say you, my love?’ He gazed up at her, knowing she would say yes, but holding his breath in case he was wrong.
Her soft palm caressing the side of his jaw told him he was right!
Judith turned to Sister Seraphina with a withering look, and Baldwin watched in fascination as she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, the jewels on her coronet glinting as she moved her head.
‘Sister Seraphina.’ Judith’s voice was louder and firmer than he had ever heard it, and the grimness of her tone surprised him. ‘Make your decision wisely. Because when I write to my father, as I certainly will, to tell him I have at last chosen a husband for myself, I shall not fail to mention that you allowed Lord Baldwin to deflower a Princess of Frankia without the blessing of the Almighty on their union.’
He wanted to laugh, and applaud, and kiss her lips so hard that she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Ralf had been right; she had indeed changed in her time as Queen of Wessex, and it made him love her even more than he thought possible.
‘So decide, Sister. Are you more afraid of my father the King, or of God’s wrath that you allowed our union in His house to go unblessed by Him?’
***
Chapter 99
Judith sat in her chamber and gazed at her reflection in the burnished copper mirror that she had asked Adal to bring from her possessions stored in one of the barns. The nuns weren’t allowed mirrors. Behind her, she could hear muffled giggles from Ghislaine and Alys as they hurried around the room they had all shared during their stay. Until tonight.
Tonight, she was a married woman again, and the consummation of this union wasn’t in doubt. Her stomach twisted and her skin trembled at the thought, and she wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or fear.
When she had seen Baldwin stalking around Sister Seraphina in the church, she had wanted to squeal and clap and run to him in excited delight. She had forced herself to calm, pushing away the clamouring of every nerve in her body to go to him, while she listened to his declaration of love.
That he had waited for fourteen years to make her his wife. The thought made her tremble even more. What if she disappointed him?
The looks he had given her as Father Bernard rushed through the service had made her flush from the toes of her feet to the roots of her hair. His hazel eyes had burned into her brown ones as she had watched him form the responses, his well-shaped lips behind his beard hiding his white teeth, which kept flashing in a grin as she dutifully made her own reply at the urging of the priest.
It wasn’t that she was reluctant, but rather it was that she wanted to push her hand into Baldwin’s hair and have him kiss her properly. Kiss her as she had imagined him kissing her ever since that awful banquet when her shame had made her realise her true feelings.
Then he produced a beautiful golden ring from his jerkin, a twisted, plaited circlet of buttery-yellow that fitted her finger perfectly and shone on her hand in the candlelight. After Father Bernard had blessed them, he had bestowed a relieved smile that he had performed the service despite his nerves.
To the music of Ghislaine’s giggles and everyone else’s applause, Baldwin had finally taken her in his arms, holding her close and bending his head towards her, with a whisper of ‘Mine.’
His kiss was everything she had hoped and nothing that she had expected. The silky hair around his lips had brushed her skin, but had been but a soft breath rather than a harsh scratch. Baldwin’s lips were dry and warm, pressing against hers delicately at first then more firmly, forcing her lips slightly apart, where his tongue tickled at their seam. Her slight gasp admitted him to the confines of her mouth, where he licked gently, twisting against her own tongue and creating another flood of warmth in the pit of her stomach.
As if of their own volition, her hands twirled in the spirals of his hair and she clutched him to her tightly, her breasts pressing against his jerkin and her toes barely staying on the floor. If he straightened his back, she would be lifted completely.
Then the applause died away, and Gozfrid cleared his throat loudly.
‘Win. Win, put her down. There will be time enough later.’
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hands from his hair, sliding her fingers through his beard as she planted her feet flat on the floor. Baldwin reduced the intensity of his kiss, and she felt him nip her lips and kiss her again briefly before he raised his head with a grin at his friend. Much to her relief, he didn’t move his arm from around her waist; she doubted her legs would hold her if he had.
He gave her gently into the care of Elin, and bowed slightly to the demoiselle.
‘Is there a room, Lady? Or do we indeed consummate our marriage here?’
Judith could tell by his tone that he was making a jest, but Elin sucked in a shocked breath equal to those of the nuns, all sitting quietly in the pews to witness the legality of the ceremony. Sister Seraphina had marched from the room, and Judith had no doubt that a letter would be despatched in the morning to her father, detailing their scandalous behaviour.
‘We will need a few moments, Lord. To move our things, and then you may attend the Princess in her chamber.’
Judith dimpled as Baldwin gave Elin a courtly bow and then stood aside as she, followed by a solemn Elin, a smiling Alys and an almost hysterically happy Ghislaine, left the church.
Now, Ghislaine and Alys had moved some of their things into Sister Seraphina’s personal sitting room, and she was allowing Elin to braid her hair for bed.
‘I think I am afraid, Elin.’ Judith smiled wanly at Elin’s reflection, eyes huge in her face. It wasn’t exactly Baldwin she was afraid of, but she couldn’t put into words her disquiet. Elin hugged her shoulders and put her face next to Judith, looking at her through the copper.
‘Why would you be afraid, Princess? You love him, yes?’
Judith nodded and twisted her shoulders in a helplessly inexpressive shrug.
‘You know I love him, Elin. Totally and hopelessly. But he might expect me to know what to do,’ her voice failed her and she croaked out a whisper, ‘and I don’t think I will.’
Elin hugged her reassuringly. ‘He won’t expect anything, Princess. He’ll show you what he wants you to do, teach you how to please him.’
Wide-eyed, Judith shook her head, doubts running wild in her mind. ‘What if I don’t,’ she breathed, ‘please him?’ and Elin patted her on the cheek with a small smile.
‘You will, Princess. How could you not? He loves you.’
Elin began to unlace the back of Judith’s gown, and the bodice gapped away at the front, revealing the silk chemise that Judith always wore next to her skin. Her hurried summons to the church had made dressing quickly imperative, so she didn’t have on the heavy linen shift she would normally have worn. Judith rose and stepped out of the green brocade, and the thought that at least she hadn’t been married in her mourning gown this time flitted through her mind, almost bringing a bubble of hysteria to her lips. She pushed it away, and glided to the bed, shoulders straight and chin raised.
Swans mated for life, and now she was indeed a swan. She would never take another husband.
Judith watched Elin lift the gown from the floor and hang it on the hook as she sat on the bed, swinging her legs up beneath the comforter.
‘I shall keep my chemise, Elin. I cannot face him naked.’
Elin dipped her knee in a slight curtsey, reaching out to draw Judith’s braid over her shoulder and patting it affectionately into place.
‘I will tell him you are waiting, Princess.’
***
Chapter 100
Ralf leaned his head back on the rough whitewashed wall, watching as Elin walked onto the gallery and sat at the top of the shallow steps. Her shoulders drooped with fatigue and she leaned her head tiredly against the stone pillar. Silently, Ralf got to his feet and joined her, trying his best not to make her start.
The sun was just beginning to gleam on the eastern horizon, shards of brightness splitting the grey clouds before they re-joined and snuffed out the splinters of sunlight. The moon was a lingering grey glow in the distance, the watery light eclipsed with each break of cloud. Dawn was almost upon them, but none had yet slept.
Across the expanse of garden, hidden by the gauzy mist swirling above the grass, the bleating of goats and clucking of hens could be heard, along with the deeper rumble of a cow lowing its readiness to be milked. The events of the night made no difference to the calendar of the livestock, and Ralph knew the nuns would soon begin to appear to go about their duties. He wondered whether they would hold their usual prayers before their day began.
‘Ma demoiselle,’ he whispered with a smile, and Elin turned her head to look at him.
‘Mon signeur.’
He could see the weariness in her eyes as he put his arm around her and drew her head onto his shoulder.
‘Are you well, my love? Not too shocked by the night’s events?’ He felt her head shake against his tunic.
‘Not shocked, Ralf. Surprised, that Baldwin found us so quickly, but mainly relieved that the Princess is safe at last.’
Ralf tightened his grip and was rewarded by Elin burrowing further into him. With his other hand, he entwined their fingers in her lap.
Judith, Twice Queen of Wessex Page 32