The Velvet Promise

by Jude Deveraux

  JUDITH’S CHAMBER WAS AS QUIET AS THE REST OF THE Demari castle when she began her preparations to go to Gavin in the pit.

  “Give the guard this,” Judith said as she handed Joan a skin of wine, “and he will sleep through the night. We could set barrels of oil on fire next to him, and he won’t wake.”

  “Which is what will happen when Lord Gavin sees you,” Joan muttered.

  “I thought you believed him to be nearly dead. Now don’t talk any more, but do as I say. Is everything ready?”

  “It is. Are you feeling better?” Joan asked concerned.

  Judith nodded, swallowing hard in memory of her recent nausea.

  “If you have kept anything down, you will lose it when you step into that vile pit.”

  Judith ignored her comment. “Go now and give the man his wine. I will wait a short time, then follow you.”

  Joan slipped silently from the room, an art she’d learned through long years of practice. Judith waited nervously for nearly an hour. She strapped the iron box about her stomach, then slipped the rough wool garment over her head. Had anyone noticed the serf walking quietly amid the sleeping knights, they would have seen a heavily pregnant woman, her hands at her lower back, supporting the burdensome weight of her belly. Judith had some difficulty managing the railless stone stairs that led to the cellar.

  “My lady?” Joan called in a loud whisper.

  “Yes.” Judith made her way toward the single candle flame that Joan held. “Is he asleep?”

  “Yes. Can’t you hear him snoring?”

  “I can hear nothing over my pounding heart. Set the candle down and help me unstrap this box.”

  Joan sank to her knees as Judith lifted her skirts to her waist. “Why did you need the box?” Joan asked.

  “To store the food. To keep the…rats from it.”

  Joan shivered as her cold hands worked at the knots of rawhide. “There are more than rats down there. My lady, please—it isn’t too late to change your mind.”

  “Are you saying you will go in my place?”

  Joan’s gasp of horror was her answer.

  “Quiet, then. Think of Gavin who has to live there.”

  As the two women pulled the trapdoor back from the pit, the foul air made them turn their heads away. “Gavin!” Judith called. “Are you there?”

  No answer came.

  “Give me the candle.”

  Joan handed her mistress the taper and looked away. She didn’t wish to look in the pit again.

  Judith searched the black hole with the light. She had steeled herself for the worst, and she wasn’t disappointed. Yet Joan had been wrong about the floor. It was not totally devoid of dry area—or at least comparatively dry. The dirt floor sloped away from the stone walls so that one corner was mere mud rather than the slime-infested water. In this corner Judith saw a hunched figure. Only the eyes that glared at her told her the heap was alive.

  “Give me the ladder, Joan. When I’m on the bottom, send the bench down, then the food and wine. You understand?”

  “I don’t like this place.”

  “Neither do I.” It wasn’t easy for Judith to descend that ladder into hell. She dared not look down. There was no need to see what was on the floor; she could smell and hear the slithering movements. She set the candle on a jutting stone of the wall but didn’t look at Gavin. She knew he worked to push himself upward.

  “The bench now,” Judith called up. It wasn’t easy to maneuver the heavy piece down the ladder, and she knew Joan’s arms were nearly pulled from their sockets. It was easier to lift it and set it against the wall next to Gavin. The box of food came next, followed by a large skin of wine.

  “There,” she said as she set the items on the edge of the bench then took a step toward her husband. She knew why Joan said he was near death. He was emaciated, his high cheekbones razor-sharp.

  “Gavin,” she said quietly and held her hand out to him, palm up.

  He moved his thin and filthy hand slowly to touch her, as if he expected her to disappear. When he felt her warm flesh against his, he looked back at her in surprise. “Judith.” The word was harsh, his voice hoarse from long disuse and a parched throat.

  She took his hand firmly to hers than pulled him to sit on the bench. She held the skin of wine to his lips. It was a while before he understood he was to drink. “Slowly,” Judith said as he began to gulp the heavy, sweet liquid. She put the wineskin down, then took a stoppered jar from the box and began to feed him rich, filling stew. The meat and vegetables had been cooked to a pulp easy for him to chew.

  He ate little before he leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed in weariness. “It has been a long time since I have had food. A man doesn’t appreciate what he has until it is taken from him.” He rested a moment, then sat up again and stared at his wife. “Why are you here?”

  “To bring you food.”

  “No, I don’t mean that. Why are you in Demari’s holdings?”

  “Gavin, you should eat and not talk. I’ll tell you everything if you will only eat more.” She gave him a chunk of dark bread dipped in the stew.

  Once again he turned his attention to eating. “Are my men above?” he asked, his mouth full. “I think I may have forgotten how to walk, but when I have eaten more, I will be stronger. They shouldn’t have sent you down here.”

  Judith hadn’t realized that her presence would make Gavin believe he was free. “No,” she said as she blinked back tears. “I can’t take you from here…yet.”

  “Yet?” He looked up at her. “What are you saying?”

  “I am alone, Gavin. There are no men above. You are still a captive of Walter Demari, as is my mother, and now John Bassett.”

  He stopped eating, his hand paused above the jar. Abruptly, as if she had said nothing, he resumed. “Tell me all,” he said flatly.

  “John Bassett told me Demari had captured you and my mother. John saw no way to win you back except through siege.” She stopped, as if finished with the story.

  “So you came here and thought to save me?” He looked at her, his sunken eyes hot.

  “Gavin, I—”

  “And, pray, what good did you hope to do? To draw a sword and run them through and order my release?”

  She clamped her jaw shut.

  “I will have John’s head for this.”

  “That is what he said,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “I said John knew you would be angry.”

  “Angry?” Gavin said. “My estates are left unguarded, my men are left leaderless, my wife is held prisoner by an insane man, and you say I am angry? No, wife, I am far more than angry.”

  Judith straightened her back, clenched her jaw. “There was no other way. A siege would have killed you.”

  “A siege, yes,” he said fiercely, “but there are other ways to take this place than by siege.”

  “But John said—”

  “John! He is a knight, not a leader. His father followed mine, as he follows me. He should have gone for Miles or even Raine, with his broken leg. I will kill John the next time I see him!”

  “No, Gavin. He is not at fault. I told him I would go alone if he didn’t bring me.”

  The candle made her eyes glow. The woolen hood had fallen away from her hair.

  “I had forgotten how beautiful you are,” he said quietly. “Let’s not quarrel anymore. We can’t change what has been done. Tell me what is happening above.”

  She told him of how she’d gotten better quarters for her mother, yet had also succeeded in getting John made prisoner. “But it is as well,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have allowed me down here.”

  “I wish he hadn’t. Judith, you shouldn’t have set foot in this place.”

  “But I had to bring you food!” she protested.

  He stared at her, then sighed. He began to smile at her. “I pity John’s having to deal with you.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “He said the same of you. H
ave I done so very wrong?”

  “Yes,” Gavin answered honestly. “You have put more people in danger, and any rescue now will be much more difficult.”

  She looked down at her hands.

  “Come, look at me. It has been a long time since I saw anything that is even clean.” He handed her the empty jar.

  “I brought more food and a metal box to keep it in.”

  “And a bench,” he said as he shook his head. “Judith, do you realize Demari’s men will know who has sent these things when they see them? You must take them back.”

  “No! You need them.”

  He stared at her. All he’d done was complain about her. “Judith,” he whispered, “thank you.” He put his hand up, as if to touch her cheek, but stopped.

  “You are annoyed with me,” she said flatly, thinking that was why he wouldn’t touch her.

  “I don’t want to soil you. I am more than filthy. I feel things crawl on my skin even now as you sit so close to me.”

  She took his hand and guided it to her cheek. “Joan said you were little more than alive, but she also said you looked up at the guard with defiance. If you still hated, you couldn’t be so near death.” She leaned toward him and he touched his mouth to hers. She had to content herself with that; he would not contaminate her further with his touch.

  “Listen to me, Judith. You must obey me. I will brook no disobedience, do you understand? I’m not John Bassett you can twist about your fingers. And if you disobey me, it will no doubt cost many lives. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. She wanted guidance.

  “Before I was taken, Odo was able to reach Stephen in Scotland.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes, you don’t know him. He will be told all of what Demari has done. Stephen will come soon. He is an experienced fighter, and these old walls won’t stand long before him. But it will take days for him to travel from Scotland—even if the messenger can find him quickly.”

  “So what am I to do?”

  “You should have stayed at home and waited with your embroidery frame,” he said in disgust. “Then we would have had time. Now you must buy us time. Agree to nothing Demari says. Talk to him of women’s things, but don’t talk to him of annulment or your estates.”

  “He thinks I’m a simpleton.”

  “Deliver all men from such simple women! Now you must go.”

  She stood. “I will bring more food tomorrow.”

  “No! Send Joan. No one will notice that cat slipping from one bed to the next.”

  “But I will come in disguise.”

  “Judith, who else has hair the color of yours? If one strand were to escape, you would be recognized. And if you were found out, there would be no reason to keep the rest of us alive. Demari must think you will comply with his plans. Now go and obey me for once.”

  She stood and nodded as she turned toward the ladder.

  “Judith,” he whispered. “Would you kiss me again?”

  She smiled happily and before he could stop her, her arms were about his waist, holding him close to her. She could feel the change in his body, the weight he’d lost. “I have been frightened, Gavin,” she confessed.

  He lifted her chin in his hand. “You are braver than ten men.” He kissed her longingly. “Now go and don’t come again.”

  She nearly ran up the ladder and out of the dark cellar.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE CASTLE WAS QUIET WHEN ARTHUR FINALLY ALLOWED his anger to explode. He knew he should have kept his temper under control, but he’d seen too much in one day.

  “You are a fool!” Arthur said with a sneer. “Don’t you see how the woman plays you like a master harper plays a psaltery?”

  “You overstep yourself,” Walter warned.

  “Someone must! You’re so besotted by her that she could slip a knife between your ribs and you would murmur, ‘Thank you.’ ”

  Walter suddenly looked into his cup of ale. “She is a sweet and lovely woman,” he murmured.

  “Sweet! Bah! She is as sweet as verjuice. She has been here three days, and look at how far you have gotten with negotiations for an annulment. What does she say when you ask her?” He didn’t give Walter time to reply. “That woman has a convenient hearing loss. At times she just looks at you and smiles when you ask her a question. You would think she is both deaf and dumb. You never press her, but only return her smile with a mindless one of your own.”

  “She is a beautiful woman,” Walter said in defense.

  “Yes, she is enticing,” Arthur acknowledged and smiled to himself. Judith Montgomery was beginning to stir his blood also, though not in the holy way she affected Walter. “But what has her beauty accomplished? You are no nearer your goal than when she arrived.”

  Walter slammed down his goblet. “She is a woman, damn you, not a man you can reason with! She must be wooed and won. Women must be loved. And there is her father and that vile husband of hers. They have frightened her.”

  “Frightened!” Arthur snorted. “I have never seen a woman less frightened in my life. A frightened woman would have stayed home in her bed behind her castle walls. This one comes riding to our gate and—”

  “And asks for nothing!” Walter said triumphantly. “She has asked for nothing but better quarters for her mother, a simple request. She spends her days with me and is pleasant company. Judith has not so much as asked about the fate of her husband. Surely that shows she doesn’t care about him.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “It seems unnatural for her to care so little about him.”

  “She hates him, I tell you! I don’t see why you don’t kill him and be done with it. I would wed her atop the dead man’s corpse if the priest would allow it.”

  “Then you would have the king upon your head! She is a rich woman. Her father had the right to give her to a man, but now he is dead. No one else has the right except the king. The moment her husband is dead, she becomes the king’s ward, the revenues from her estates his. Do you think King Henry would give a rich widow to the man who tortured and killed her husband? And if you took her without his permission, he would be even more angry. I’ve told you time and again: the only way is if she stands before the king and asks publicly for a release from her marriage and declares for you. King Henry loves the queen and is greatly moved by such sentimentality.”

  “Then I am proceeding properly,” Walter said. “I’m making the woman love me. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me.”

  “I say again, you are a fool. You see what you wish. I am not so certain that she doesn’t scheme something. A plan of escape, perhaps.”

  “Escape from me? I don’t hold her captive. She is free to go when she wants.”

  Arthur looked at the man with revulsion. He was not only a fool, but stupid as well. If Arthur were not cautious, all his carefully laid plans would be destroyed by a golden-eyed goddess. “You say she hates her husband?”

  “Yes. I know she does.”

  “Do you have proof other than servants’ gossip?”

  “She never speaks of him.”

  “Perhaps the love she bears him hurts her too much to speak of him,” Arthur said snidely. “Perhaps we should put her hatred to a test.”

  Walter hesitated.

  “You’re not so sure of her now?”

  “I am! What do you plan?”

  “We will bring her husband up from the pit, bring him before her and see her reaction. Will she cry in horror to see him as he must be now? Or will she be glad to see him so tortured?”

  “She will be glad,” Walter said firmly.

  “Let us hope you are right. But I believe you are not.”

  The new quarters Judith had gotten for Lady Helen were large, airy and cleaner. A stout wooden partition had been nailed into the walls of the fourth-floor solar, creating the room. It was secluded from the rest of the castle, protected by a door of four-inch-thick seasoned oak.

  There was
little furniture. A large bed draped with heavy linen occupied one corner. A straw pallet was on the other side of the chamber. Two people sat across from the glowing brazier, their heads nearly touching over a chessboard set on a low table.

  “You have won again!” John Bassett said in astonishment.

  Helen smiled at him. “You seem pleased.”

  “Yes, I am. At least these days haven’t been dull.” During the time they had been together he’d seen many changes in her. She had gained weight; her cheeks were losing their hollows. And she had begun to relax in his presence. Her eyes no longer darted from side to side. In truth, they rarely left John.

  “Do you think my daughter is well?” Helen asked as she set the chess pieces back in their original positions.

  “I can only guess. If she had been harmed, I think we would know. I don’t think Demari will lose much time in seeing that we suffer the same fate.”

  Helen nodded. She found John’s harsh truthfulness refreshing after having lived with lies for so long. She hadn’t seen Judith since that first night, and had it not been for John’s steadiness, she would have worried herself into illness. “Another game?”

  “No. I must have a rest from your attacks.”

  “It is late. Perhaps…” she began, not wanting to go to bed and leave his company.

  “Will you sit by me a moment?” he asked as he rose and stirred the coals in the brazier.

  “Yes,” she smiled. This was the part of the day she loved the best—being carried from one place to another in John’s strong arms. She was quite sure her ankle was well, but he didn’t ask after it, and she did not mention it.

  He looked down at her head cradled against his shoulder. “You look more like your daughter each day,” he said as he carried her to a chair closer to the fire. “It’s easy to see where she gets her beauty.”

  Helen didn’t speak, but smiled against his shoulder, delighting in the strength of him. He had no more than deposited her in the chair when the door burst open.

  “Mother!” Judith said as she rushed to Helen’s open arms.

  “I have been worried about you,” Helen said anxiously. “Where have they kept you? They haven’t harmed you?”