by R. R. Vane
Judith didn’t like the stress her father placed upon the last of his words. It seemed he looked down upon what she was. And Judith knew herself not to be beautiful at all, or particularly clever. Her mother had not tried to hide these flaws from her, but had always told Judith she loved her dearly. Looks or great wit were not all that mattered in this world, her mother was fond to add.
Instead of seeing her look of sheer anguish, her father beamed at her. She’d seldom seen him happy. He usually looked sad and grim whenever he came to talk to her and her mother.
“You’ll see, you’ll be so pleased with this match, daughter,” he said, glancing down upon her from his great height.
“A stranger…” Judith repeated, staring at him.
Her mother had warned her of this. She’d told Judith her father might wish to wed her to a stranger against her will, since he’d always been harsh and rather uncaring.
“But you’re already acquainted,” her father bellowed. “From Court. He’s Tristram, Lord de Brunne!”
He looked mightily pleased when he uttered the name, and Judith bit hard into her lip. Now her father was making a cruel jest at her expense. Everyone knew Lord de Brunne was one of the most coveted men at Court. In Judith’s eyes, he was simply beautiful, decidedly the most beautiful creature she’d ever had occasion to gaze upon. But looks weren’t everything in this world, her mother had always wisely told her. So Judith had strived not to think too much upon Lord de Brunne. However, now it seemed her father had already perceived she fancied this lord, and he was making fun of her.
“You are to wed Tristram de Brunne in a fortnight hence,” her father proclaimed, and by the way he uttered the words, Judith came to see in surprise that he was earnest.
She stared at him, simply stunned, and she found her voice only with difficulty.
“Wh-what if I do not wish to wed him?”
Her father frowned.
“Why wouldn’t you wish to wed him?”
“Well…”
“Isn’t he handsome and young?” her father asked.
“Yes. He is, but…”
“Isn’t he well-born and wealthy?”
“Well-born, yes. Wealthy… I have not cared to ask…”
“I have,” her father cut her off. “He’s all of these things. He’s also a sensible, honourable man, and the finest swordsman in the realm, and he wishes to marry you.”
Again, Judith didn’t like the way her father spoke the word.
“Perchance,” she ventured. “But I do not wish to marry him.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because… I do not care for him…”
Her father cast her a piercing look. It seemed he wanted to say something more, but then changed his mind and shook his head. At last he spoke, “In time you’ll come to care for him. He is indeed a worthy man. And he has vowed to treat you right.”
“He…” Judith searched her brain for things to say against Lord de Brunne and failed. This lord was not only handsome. He had a warm comely smile which always reached his fine dark eyes, and she’d never seen him treat a lady with disdain or unkindness. He was always courteous and most chivalrous to all. Tristram de Brunne was not only reputed to be the best swordsman in the realm. He was the best dancer she’d ever chanced upon and she supposed she’d never hear enough of his singing voice – the most melodious voice her ears had ever caught. In truth, when she’d first heard him speak, she’d thought her mind was playing tricks upon her. And Tristram de Brunne knew how to laugh and jest, and always said the cleverest and most diverting of things. Judith shook her head in sheer misery. She supposed she looked upon Tristram de Brunne with childish fancy, but she simply couldn’t help herself. She’d never met a man who seemed so accomplished in every way. And she grimly told herself he was, certainly, a man too good to be true. He must have a hidden flaw or vice. Otherwise, how could such an accomplished man wish to marry somebody such as herself? Or was it just her father’s wealth he craved?
“He…” Judith repeated stubbornly, searching for things to tell her father which would make him change his mind.
Her father seemed unconcerned. However, he attempted to place a hand upon her shoulder rather awkwardly. Judith found herself flinching from him, unused to her father ever touching her, and he withdrew his hand with a frown.
“All will be well, daughter. Have faith in me,” he told her at last, and his voice sounded firm.
“But I do not wish to wed him,” she countered in a weary voice which already sounded defeated to her own ears.
Why was she not trying harder to persuade her father she did not wish for this match?
“Yet you shall wed him as soon as can be, because he is the right match for you. And your scheming mother and that asp of a sister of hers can do nothing to stop this!” her father said in a decisive, self-satisfied voice.
A mere fortnight later Judith found herself staring upon the ring with carved initials which Lord de Brunne had slid upon her finger with a warm smile. Her half-hearted protests to her father had been to no avail, and Judith felt guilty for not bringing herself to stand up to him, knowing her mother would chide her for her cowardice. She simply hadn’t had the strength to protest. She supposed she was a vain, shallow creature, enticed by the sheer beauty and charm of the man who sought to wed her. Otherwise, she’d have found the fortitude to resist the match. Judith now reasoned she was truly weak.
Chapter 4
Present time, 1174
Judith supposed she was weak and foolish to welcome the touch of a man set on humbling her. She’d not only let Tristram take her maidenhead last night, but she’d also shamelessly revelled in their lovemaking. And it was as if she’d unlocked the door of a forbidden chamber she could no longer close.
At present, Tristram, who plainly thought himself her master, was gazing upon her chastened behind. His fingers were boldly tracing the stripes his punishing belt had left upon her skin yesterday.
“So?” Judith asked, unable to contain her anguish. “Will you punish me now?”
Tristram’s fingers were now no longer touching her reddened skin. When she gingerly sat up, he yawned as he stretched his hard body, and Judith, who’d never seen that beast which was called the leopard, but who’d seen painted images of it, supposed he now looked just like a leopard. It was perhaps not fitting that the De Brunne banner was an eagle soaring. It should have been a leopard passant.
Tristram didn’t answer, and she found herself staring at him in vexation.
“Husband?” she queried.
“Not now. Later,” he replied, beginning to comb his tousled fair hair with his fingers.
Judith had the urge of reaching out to do that for him, but stopped herself in time. She frowned to herself, because, while her bottom felt much better than she’d thought it would, it still smarted when she sat down on it.
“Later,” she muttered with a sigh. “Later… when?”
He shrugged, unconcernedly, and Judith knew he was doing so because he wanted to taunt her. Judith had already become resigned she would have to submit to her husband’s punishments. However, she didn’t see why she should submit to his taunts.
“I’d rather you did it now, to get it done and over with,” she said, although the moment she spoke the words she realized she’d given Tristram the perfect excuse to torment her.
“I bet you would,” Tristram grinned in full malice.
The next thing he did though took her by surprise, and she didn’t even have the time to catch her breath as, lightning-fast, she found herself lying face down over his lap.
“You are defiant, wife,” Tristram chided, as he began to rub her bottom. “And to cure you of your defiance, methinks I’ll punish you both now and later.”
“What?”
But Judith didn’t have the time to say anything further, as Tristram’s large hand came swiftly to spank her bottom. The spank he delivered wasn’t hard, but Judith instantly gasped in surprise under it. Her
bottom was still quite tender from yesterday. And she began to understand how foolish she’d been to goad her lord to spank her now. He would reduce her to tears in a matter of moments. And Judith understood, with a thumping heart, he may want to use the same belt he’d used yesterday. She bit her lip, hard, coming to see she’d not thought this through.
“Husband, I…”
Tristram’s hand now caught her sit spots, which caused a mightier burn than before and a treacherous, ignoble stir in her sex. She attempted to feel ashamed of it, and failed.
“My lord…”
The punishing hand had blissfully stopped, and Judith felt disgusted with how grateful she now was that he’d desisted.
“You were saying, wife?” he asked in a silky voice.
“I…”
Judith hated herself for what she would say next, but there was no going around this.
“I erred. It’s best you spank me later,” she muttered, now simply revelling in the warm weight of his large, rough hand upon her behind.
Smack. Suddenly, Tristram’s hand was no longer still, as he delivered a volley of rapid spanks on her very tender behind, which instantly brought tears to her eyes. Mercifully though, he let her off without continuing what he’d started, and yet again Judith hated herself for the strange, unseemly feelings which rose inside her. This was punishment, but in her feverish mind this ignoble chastisement had already turned into strange love play.
She sniffed, rubbing her bottom in an undignified manner, while Tristram perused her with his dark eyes. There was undisguised heat she read there, and she simply blushed, lowering her gaze.
“Tonight I’ll finish what I started,” he let her know and his voice sounded hard, quite at odds with the liquid warmth in his eyes.
She nodded, dejected, thinking upon the very different way he’d treated her when they’d first wed. At first she’d thought him the most wondrous, kindest man who had ever lived. But then her mother had made her see what he was in truth. Or so she’d thought. Because at this moment she was older and different than she’d been. And she had come to see her mother hadn’t been right at all times. Still, she recalled what she’d seen with her own eyes, and anger came back in full blazes. Tristram now meant to punish her fiercely for lying to him. But who would ever punish him for lying to her as he had during their marriage?
As soon as she was dressed, she went to see her mother, trying to look calm and unconcerned, so Lady Fenice wouldn’t worry unduly. Judith already feared yesterday’s events had made her mother’s mind even more frenzied and melancholy than it had been of late.
“He’s plucked you,” her mother said abruptly, casting her a sad, appraising look, just as soon as Judith entered the solar where Lady Fenice spent all her time.
Judith placed the tray she’d been carrying on the table by her mother’s side, saying nothing.
“I saw it from my window, how he dragged you after him in the inner bailey. I couldn’t see what happened next. Did he beat you?”
Judith shrugged, replaying the punishment she’d received at her husband’s hands. It had been a harsh spanking, yet she had to be honest to herself. It hadn’t been a beating. She opened her mouth to tell her mother that, apart from a sore bottom, she was unharmed, but her mother didn’t let her speak.
“My poor daughter!” she muttered with a chagrined expression on her face.
“You needn’t worry…” Judith started, but yet again, her mother didn’t let her finish.
“He beat you and then he ravished you. So like a man!”
“He didn’t ravish me!”
“Oh.”
For a moment, to Judith it seemed her mother’s voice was disappointed, but she decided her mind was playing tricks on her.
“Of course,” her mother said with a mocking smile. “I had forgotten. He is a clever fiend, that one. He’s finally tricked you into lying with him.”
Judith took a deep breath, telling herself it was only of late her mother had become so distraught and troubled. Or… The nagging thought which hadn’t let her be for many months came back to haunt her. Or was it that her mother had always been distraught and troubled, and Judith was only now beginning to grasp it? How could it be? Judith decided, whatever the truth, her mother loved her dearly and had always wished the best for her. She always worried over her daughter, as she should.
“We should escape as soon as can be, you and I,” her mother went on, and it seemed she wasn’t talking to Judith, but to herself. “To go to my sister. And then who knows, perchance I’ll get to see my beloved home in Aquitaine before I die.”
“Aunt Edith cannot aid us now. She’s supported Eleanor, just as we did, and Eleanor is vanquished. She will probably have to go into exile. And, Mother, you have not left these chambers in several years, not even to walk through the bailey. How will you be able to undertake such a long journey?”
Her mother sighed.
“I have been ailing. I will get stronger though, and we will be able to leave this accursed place!”
Judith said nothing at first. For many years she’d thought her mother was suffering in her body. But in the last year she had come to finally understand it was not her mother’s body that was ailing. A year ago, Judith had prevailed upon her mother to have one of the greatest physicians in the land call upon her – a man reputed to have studied the art of healing in the Holy Land. And the healer had told the truth of it to Judith. There was no affliction of the body which plagued the lady Fenice. She was just heart-broken and forlorn.
“I do not think this place is accursed,” she decided to tell her mother gently, as she was pouring her a goblet of watered wine. “It has always been my home. And you’ve not received news of your kin there in many years. Besides, our people are here and we have a duty to them.”
Her mother scoffed.
“Not my people. Just Englishmen.”
“I call myself an Englishwoman,” Judith countered in the same gentle voice as she’d employed before.
She had already expected her mother wouldn’t understand, but she hoped the lady Fenice would become reconciled with the way things were. Tristram might hate Judith now and might want to exact his revenge upon her, but he had his own honour, and he would never harm or mistreat her mother. Lady Fenice would be safe here – safer and happier than in a convent. As for Aquitaine, Judith doubted her mother would indeed ever be able to make the journey, no matter how hard she wished for it.
Her mother’s harsh laughter took her by surprise. Lady Fenice had always been gentle and soft-spoken, and it seemed strange that today she was behaving so unlike herself. But Judith decided the castle’s surrender had increased her mother’s distress.
“It’s clear you have no wish to get away. My poor daughter, you lust for the fiend! I always knew it,” her mother said with that peculiar, harsh laughter.
Lust was not a word Judith ever recalled her mother to have used. She blushed, lowering her eyes. Nevertheless Lady Fenice was right. Her mother knew her well. Judith attempted to conjure up guilt for her own weakness, and she recalled, with flushed cheeks, the brazen, heated coupling she and Tristram had shared last night. She should feel guilty for her ignoble enjoyment of all of it, and even guiltier for the shameful way she’d felt this morning as she’d lain defenceless across her husband’s lap. Yet she simply found she couldn’t feel guilty.
“All will be well, Mother. We’ve not been driven from our home,” she said, now belatedly recalling the letter she’d once received from the bishop’s chancery which had stated her marriage to Tristram had been annulled.
In the turmoil of events which had unfolded, she’d not had the time to think upon it. But now as she was able to do so, she shook her head in sheer puzzlement. How could a chancery clerk have erred so grievously?
She recalled the day she’d received the letter, and how she’d told herself she should be happy her marriage to a man who didn’t and couldn’t ever care for her was done and over with. And how she�
�d strived to put Tristram away from her mind. She’d failed though – miserably. His face and voice had forever haunted her dreams. And now they were together again. Judith attempted to tell herself she should look upon this only with bitterness. Yet it was not only bitterness she conjured up whenever she thought of Tristram.
Chapter 5
Tristram’s temples were pounding hard this morning, although, in truth, he’d drunk no more than half a cup of wine last night. It seemed though as if he was recovering from a heavy bout of drinking. He swore under his breath. Certainly, he’d been drunk on his wife’s charms, although he’d promised himself to be distant and cold. His friend, Bertran FitzRolf cast him a searching glance as they were lightly sparring with staves, as was their usual practice in the morning.
“All’s well?” FitzRolf asked, and Tristram contented himself to shrug as he glimpsed his cousin approaching them with a pinched look on his gaunt face. Isidore didn’t bid them a good morrow.
“I saw your wife walking about this morn, guiding the servants and seeing to her people. I told her to wear a modest headdress!” he called out with a scowl.
Tristram raised his eyebrows, setting his staff aside. Judith had covered her hair as of this morning, as was required of all married women. So why was Isidore scoffing?
“That thing! That vile thing they call a barbette!” Isidore ranted. “Just as that lewd Eleanor used to wear at Court. That’s not headcover! It’s a disgrace!”
Judith had now indeed covered her hair, but like most noble married women of Tristram’s acquaintance, it was not her habit to wear a heavy wimple which covered her neck and hid all her glorious hair. Tristram recalled that in the first days of their marriage she’d worn a filet and a dainty embroidered veil, and upon this morning she’d had upon her that item they called a barbette, which Queen Eleanor had brought with her from the South of France. It had a band under the chin, but was designed in such a way as to leave part of the crown of a woman’s hair uncovered. Tristram recalled prelates had chided the Queen over this, but many women at Court had adopted the fashion. He did not particularly care for this item, or for any kind of headdress, because he loved to see Judith’s black hair uncovered. Nevertheless it was not what custom decreed, and Isidore was here, watching like a hawk over them.