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“This is most interesting,” Zoe murmured, fingering a bangle on her wrist. “Do tell me more.”
“No! All I’ll tell you is that I won’t agree. I won’t. I’ll fight. I’ll make trouble. And then your precious Balduk will find his…his customers go elsewhere for their pleasures.”
Zoe searched Judith’s face. Judith’s chin inched upwards. She hoped her expression was suitably defiant.
Unexpectedly, Zoe smiled. “Let me offer you some refreshment,” she said. “And we can learn a little more about each other. And later, if you still insist, I am certain Balduk will be able to find you some other, more congenial work.” With a jingle of gold bracelets Zoe indicated a low table, set with drinking vessels.
Judith hesitated. Zoe had changed her tack too quickly for Judith’s liking. Nor did she like the sound of the “more congenial work” Zoe indicated she would find her. The idea of doing any work at all in a brothel filled her with horror. However there was no point in alienating Zoe—not yet.
“My thanks.” Judith lowered herself on to one of the satin cushions and gave a cautious smile. The whites of Zoe’s eyes gleamed across at her.
“Try this.” Zoe proffered a goblet brimming with an amber liquid. “’Tis a blend of fruit juices that I do not believe you have in your country. I think you will enjoy it.”
Judith tasted it warily. The juice was sweet and tangy, slightly thick, with a hint of bitterness. “’Tis very pleasant,” she admitted, “very refreshing.”
Zoe’s red lips smiled at Judith over the rim of her cup. “Perhaps now you would be good enough to tell me a little about yourself,” she suggested, easing her plump body deeper into the cushions.
Judith was staring in fascination at the intricate pattern engraved on her gilt goblet. She wrenched her eyes back to meet those of her companion.
“Your former life sounds most interesting,” Zoe said, encouragingly.
Judith groped for the words. How could she begin to explain to this strange woman what life as an outlaw in Mandeville Chase had been like? How could this pampered, sensual woman begin to comprehend the motives of someone who would have chosen the life of a beggar rather than submit tamely to a tyrant lord? She sipped at her drink.
Zoe was still smiling. There was something about that smile—it was hard to respond to it. Judith did not like Zoe, for all her smiles. She looked instead at the mother-of-pearl inlay on the table. The pink and blue shells shimmered in the lamp light.
“Well?” Zoe prompted.
“Oh. Oh, aye.” Judith mumbled.
Zoe’s smile froze, her face was very dark. Painted nails clutched at her goblet like the talons of a bird of prey closing on its victim.
The pinks and blues on the table swirled together. It made Judith dizzy to look at it. They must have skilled craftsmen indeed to make such beautiful things—so complicated…
The metal goblet slipped from Judith’s grasp. There was a dull clank and it rolled across the tiles. The juice fanned out slowly across the floor.
Judith opened her mouth to apologise for her clumsiness. No words came out. She was slipping sideways, falling down, down into the satiny, soft cushions. She tried to move her limbs, but could not. She was trapped in a silken web, caught fast, a fly trussed up in a spider’s larder.
“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered thickly, struggling to resist the drowsiness creeping up on her. “Prisoner in a pearly palace.” Her eyelids felt weighed down, her eyes were closing. She couldn’t even fling an angry glance at Zoe, to show her she knew she had been betrayed by the drink.
But Judith could at least resist in her mind. They could not take away her will. They could chain her body with their foul potions, but they would never, never chain her mind.
Zoe rose with a fluid grace and pinched Judith’s cheek.
Judith did not move.
For a moment Zoe stared down at the slight figure sprawled across the silks. Zoe’s swarthy, painted face showed no emotion, but the yellow lamp light glistened on a tear-track running down one flawless cheek. “Forgive me, my dear,” she whispered. “’Tis always worse for those with a will. Once I thought as you. But now I am theirs, mind and body. Mind and body.”
Chapter Two
She woke to hear a low whispering close by. Even as she strained to hear it, the muttering ceased. It was replaced by the unmistakable chink of coins being counted out on to a hard surface. She swallowed. She knew what that meant. She wriggled her fingers experimentally and sought mastery of her limbs. Another faint murmur spurred her efforts. Silks swished across marble tiles. A door clicked shut. She made out the scraping of a bolt being shot home. She’d been left with one of Balduk’s patrons, and she’d only the strength of a kitten to help her resist.
Judith waited, eyes shut fast, every nerve stretched to the limit. The silence was so absolute it was unnatural. At length, hoping against hope she’d been granted a reprieve, she forced her eyelids open.
She found herself lying on a couch in a pool of light. The rest of the chamber was black as sin. She could see no one else. The light was provided by two wall sconces, and a flickering oil lamp on the table in front of her. A brass ewer winked out from amid a host of ceramic dishes all overflowing with food. She licked her lips and frowned. She was so thirsty. Dared she drink?
She heaved herself up on one elbow and reached for one of the two goblets. Her hand froze in mid-air. Two goblets?
Something rustled in the shadows beyond the table. Judith snatched in a breath. Her hands gripped the edge of the couch and she strained to see across the chamber. Her heart began to pound. She steadied herself. She knew a little about fighting; he’d not be expecting that. She’d not make it easy…
“Don’t be afraid.”
A bitter laugh slid from Judith’s lips. English! The man who’d paid for her body spoke English! Her eyes pierced the gloom beyond the table and she recoiled. He was sitting in the window-seat opposite the couch. His white robes made him almost invisible against the whitewashed walls. A flowing head-covering and the shadows combined to mask his features.
She wanted to run, but knew her leaden limbs could not carry her. Zoe’s evil brew had seen to that. Even if she made it across the room, she doubted she could budge that in her present condition.
“The door is bolted to keep them out, not to keep you in.” The robed figure spoke up, reading her mind with uncanny ease. He had a pleasant voice, and somehow that made it worse.
Impotent fury freed Judith’s tongue. “You swine! You bastard!” she flared. “I suppose you want complete privacy while you…while you…” She floundered to a halt, chest heaving. She tried again. She’d not submit to this lecher. “What kind of a man are you that you need to come to a place like this? You sound English. What are you doing here?”
The man rose and Judith watched in paralysed horror as he strolled towards her.
“Keep away!” she choked.
The robed figure drew nearer. “Don’t be afraid,” he repeated.
His tone was gentle. Judith shrank back. Was this some ploy to win her confidence? He was not fooling her. She raised her hands to ward him off. It was all she was capable of doing. She noticed, wild with despair, that they were shaking. She bunched them into fists so he would not see.
He stopped at the table. “I am English,” he confirmed. “I have no intention of hurting you.”
Judith wanted to believe him. She wished she could see his face, for his voice was sincere. As yet he had not made any attempt to touch her, scarcely the actions of a man who had paid for his pleasure…But until she could look into his eyes, read his expression, she could not be sure.
“Then why in Hell’s name are you here?” she demanded, employing one of Eadwold’s curses in a vain attempt to revive her wilting spirits.
She thought the man raised a brow, and smiled as if amused. Blast the inadequate light! His voice…there was something about his voice. It nagged away in her mind, reminding her…Judith’s eyes widened. An impossible hope flared in her breast. She forgot to breathe.
“I had business at the harbour this morning,” he said, and his voice sent shivers racing down her spine. “They hold slave markets there, and today I found myself watching…”
Judith bit on her forefinger…that voice…that voice…
“Normally I would not have given the market a second glance. Trafficking in human flesh is an abhorrence in the eyes of God. But today, I saw someone from home. I watched. One of the women slaves reminded me of a Saxon girl I once met. Her name was Judith.”
Judith made a convulsive movement. She began to breathe again.
The voice continued. “I thought that Judith was dead, was just a memory. But then today, at the slave market…” He whipped off his headdress, crossed to the couch and knelt before her.
He reached out. Judith did not flinch. He took her chin in his hand, his fingers were cool and firm. Her face was angled gently up to the light. Forest green eyes held hers.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Rannulf whispered, smiling.
He released her, and gently trailed a finger across her cheek. His hand dropped to rest on the edge of the bed.
Judith sagged with relief, and put out her hand. He steadied her.
“So it was you! I could not believe it. Rannulf!” Clinging to his hand as though it were a lifeline, Judith stared at him. His face was leaner, browner. Trembling, she touched his cheek, where a faint white line marked the place a whip had scarred him four years ago. She had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.
“Why did you let them buy me?” she frowned.
“You saw how much our friend Balduk paid for you. I do not carry so much with me—”
“Could you not have given him your bond?” she asked in a small voice.
Rannulf was looking at her cropped hair. He shook his head. “They’d not accept the word of a crusader. Besides, I do not believe in one person owning another.”
Judith gaped. “You didn’t let them buy me out of principle, surely?”
His eyes gleamed.
“You do not mean it!” she realised, striking him on the chest. “’Tis no laughing matter to me, Rannulf, to be owned by that man and put in this place,” she said sombrely, and let go of his hand.
Rannulf relaxed back on to a cushion and reached for the polished ewer “Here, you must be thirsty after what they gave you.” He poured a generous measure and offered it to her.
“I’m not touching that!”
“’Tis quite safe,” he assured her, grinning. “They warned me how wild you were, and when I told them I would not be needing any potions to tame you, I think they thought me a madman. But they took me at my word. ’Tis plain fruit juice.”
Judith searched his eyes and accepted the goblet. She risked a small sip. There was no bitter aftertaste. She drained it dry.
“When did you last eat?” Rannulf had removed one of the silver covers from a dish, and was dipping his fingers in to taste the contents. “This is good.” His lips curved. “And as I have paid highly for this, we may as well eat.”
“They fed me when I was brought here,” Judith told him. “But I think I could manage some more. It must be hours since then.” Judith climbed unsteadily to her feet and walked round the table. She plumped down on to one of the embroidered cushions opposite Rannulf. She still felt lightheaded, as though she were dreaming, and she was not really hungry.
He appeared to be starving, and transferred his attention to the food. Grateful that she could watch him unobserved, Judith picked at some flat bread. She needed time to absorb everything that had happened.
Rannulf ate with neat economy. Slim brown fingers hovered over the bowls, selected spiced fish and meat and carried them to his lips. His tanned skin made his eyes seem greener. In parts his hair was lighter, streaked blond by the Mediterranean sun, but otherwise it remained as she remembered it, an unruly brown tangle. Superficially he looked much the same to Judith as he had done back in Mandeville Chase four years ago. And yet…
He glanced up and sent her a smile which brought a flush to her cheeks, and set off a peculiar tightening sensation in her stomach. It was not unpleasant.
She nibbled at her bread and continued to study him covertly, crumbling her portion in her fingers. His flowing white robe was firmly belted round his waist. His frame was not large, he carried no extra weight, and with a trained fighter’s eye Judith guessed he would be no easy man to best in combat. There was a hidden strength about him, a tension, a feeling of power held in control. And if it was unleashed?
Judith would not wish him to be her enemy.
An enamelled knife with a wicked, curving blade hung at his belt. No wonder she had failed to recognise him. His attire was nothing like that of the young English poacher who had helped her escape the Norman tyrant and his knights.
“Have you finished shredding that bread, or are you going to destroy the whole loaf, Judith?”
She started. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” She looked askance at the crumbs she had scattered over board and floor.
“Murderous thoughts, by the look of what you have done to that innocent loaf!”
“I…I was wondering…”
“Aye?”
Judith coloured She crushed the crust to nothing. “In…in Mandeville Chase, when we last met, did you ever come back to the hide? I often wondered.”
“Aye. I did. I’d snared a plump hare for us to feast on. But you’d gone. I saw other tracks around the shelter, but no signs of a struggle, so I assumed your brothers had found you. To be certain, I followed the tracks for about a mile and then I found…”
“Go on,” Judith urged.
“I found evidence that you’d been murdered.”
“But, Rannulf, as you see, I wasn’t murdered.”
“Aye.” Rannulf reached across the table and peeled her fingers from what was left of the loaf. He raised them to his lips.
Judith’s fingers felt strange. Hot all over, she wrenched them away. “Don’t do that,” she scowled. She knew she had nothing to fear from Rannulf. But he unsettled her.
Four years surviving as a youth in Mandeville Chase had taught Judith how to fight and claw for her life, but she’d learnt nothing of what it was to be a woman. She was all but naked in the gossamer silks that purported to clothe her, and felt desperately vulnerable.
“I did but salute your beauty, my lady,” Rannulf smiled.
“I don’t like it.”
Rannulf lifted a dark brow. “My apologies. I did not realise you were averse to a harmless flirtation. I merely thought to get some return on all the money I have expended for the privilege of spending this night with you.”
“All night. You will be with me all night?” Judith seized eagerly on his words. “There are to be no others, only you?”
He bowed his head. “You will be plagued by none but me till dawn touches the east and lights the sky with her rosy fingers.”
Relief washed through her. “Oh.”
“You are displeased by this?” Rannulf asked lightly. “I thought to save you from unwelcome…er…attentions.”
“Displeased? Nay, I’m not displeased,” Judith assured him hastily.
“You might express it a little more fervently,” Rannulf complained. “Try saying, ‘My thanks, Rannulf, for spending nearly all your money on coming to me in Balduk’s House.’ ’Tis not a place I usually haunt, whatever you may care to say.”
“Rannulf, I…” Judith said earnestly. Then she saw that light in his eyes. “Oh, you wretch!” She took aim, and a chunk of bread flew across the table. Rannulf ducked, and the missile sailed into the shadows.
Judith found herself smiling, and realised Rannulf’s teasing was making this easier for her. She warmed to him. “Tell me what it was you found in the Chase that made you think I’d been murdered,” she said.
“With pleasure. As I just told you, I followed your tracks, and eventually stumbled across a little bundle of clothing stuffed into the roots of a tree. It was your blue robe, I recognised it at once. There was blood on the bodice—”
“Eadwold cut me.”
“Eadwold? A friend? Surely a friend would not do such a thing?”
“My brother,” Judith told him shortly. She could not talk about him. “I understand now—” she drew Rannulf’s attention back to her gown “—you thought I’d been killed because of the bloodstains.”
