Lord Tristram’s Love Match: Her Stern Husband Book Three

by R. R. Vane

  His spanking left her rubbing her bottom and softly crying, and Tristram took great pleasure in licking the salty tears off her face, telling her afterwards he’d never thought tears could taste so sweet.

  “I am beginning to think I erred when I promised to play the game of chastisement with you,” Judith said at last with a frown. She couldn’t help but add a half-smile to the frown. “You are a strange man, husband, after all. So gentle and so harsh at the same time.”

  Yet she truly began to fear Tristram would spank her anew, when at last she told him the full story of her misguided jealousy over the tokens she’d found in his trunk. Tristram did threaten to spank her sore, with his sword belt, if she ever doubted him like that ever again, but he held her in a warm embrace just as he was making his threat. Judith suppressed a smile, knowing already she would get to feel that belt upon her behind, in their bed, even if she didn’t cross her husband ever again.

  “The flower – was that another thing to remember your dear sister by?” she asked, as she was idly stroking Tristram’s fair hair.

  At first he widened his eyes in puzzlement, but then he shook his head with a smile. Judith’s eyes roamed over his beautiful nakedness as he strode to his garment chest. She sighed, understanding some of the scars left by the whip he’d endured for her sake might become lasting marks upon his back even once it was fully healed. Certainly, the scars would never deter from his beauty in her eyes, yet she felt guilty to have been the cause of them.

  “Is this the flower you found?” Tristram said, coming to sit by her, holding the dry pressed flower in his hand.

  Judith nodded, blushing with shame for the way she’d misjudged him. She’d thought the flower a love token from another woman. Yet it was not so.

  “It is a love token indeed,” he said, coming to cup her face. “But it is not one I keep in remembrance of my sister. In truth, I keep it in remembrance of you.”

  Judith widened her eyes.

  “Of me?”

  “You do recall I told you I fell in love with you when I first heard your voice.”

  “Aye, I recall when we first met. You were blindfolded.”

  “Yet it was not the first time I had heard your voice. The first time – I heard it in the garden. You were gone when I got there, but there was a sweetbriar on that spot.”

  Now Judith remembered one blissful morning she’d spent in the gardens at Court singing by a sweetbriar. She shook her head in wonder.

  “Why did you never tell me of it? I wish you had! Then I’d have been able to perceive your true love for me!”

  She paused, staring sadly at the love token and feeling deep regret at all the years they’d lost because they’d failed to confess their love for each other. Tristram heaved a sigh, kissing the top of her head.

  “I suppose it was my own silly pride. I did not even want to own up to myself I’d tumbled in love with a woman just at the sound of her voice. Yet it was what it was. I see now though that what you say is true. I fell in love with you then, like a fanciful child, but it was only after I got to know you that I learnt to love you in truth. And when we reunited, I learnt to love you anew.”

  “That is a fine tale of courtly love, the way you speak of it. You’ve always enjoyed such tales, my lord Tristram.”

  “And so have you, my lady Judith,” Tristram countered. “Perchance you could make one of your songs of it.”

  “A song,” Judith mused. “No. A tale is better. It seems better to have a tale of this, yet it would be a mightily strange tale. I don’t know if such a story has ever been written… in Norman or in Occitan…”

  “Make it in English then,” Tristram suddenly said.

  Judith frowned. English? Who’d ever heard of courtly tales written on parchment in English? They called such tales romanz, and French was the language of them. Yet now she thought better on it, Tristram had the right of it. Somehow, when she conjured up the words to tell it, she understood their strange tale of love lost and regained would sound even better in English than in Norman or Occitan.

  “Whose English? My English?” she said, unable not to tease him, although he’d learnt to speak the English of the North quite well.

  “Yours, to be sure,” he said with a teasing smile of his own. “It seems a more fitting means to tell of the ways in which I chastised you.”

  She frowned.

  “If I ever bring myself to put on parchment such a tale, I mean to leave the chastisements aside from it. It is a tale of courtly love, after all!”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with a romanz telling of chastisements or of heated love,” Tristram shrugged.

  “Truly? And what do you think the Church would say of it?” Judith asked with a cocked eyebrow.

  Tristram waved his hand.

  “They’d probably mean to punish us for the blasphemous sinners we are,” he said, yet his voice sounded light and unconcerned as he spoke the words.

  Judith found herself brushing her fingers upon his scarred back, then beginning to kiss each of the scars her husband had borne for her.

  “Don’t ever speak so lightly of it,” she said between kisses. “They hurt you. And you let yourself hurt for my sake.”

  He cast her a brilliant, careless smile, and spoke to her in a steady voice.

  “Yet for your sake I’d do it a thousand times over. It is just as it is.”

  But Judith placed a staying finger on his lips.

  “Nay. Never again! I will not let them hurt you. And perchance it’s best certain courtly tales are left unwritten. I’d rather have my husband safe and sound rather than a knight who suffers for my sake.”

  Tristram’s lips kissed her fingers.

  “Fine then. Have it your own way, although the Church need never learn of it even if you write a romanz that tells of heated love. Besides, they would simply dismiss it if it were written in English.”

  “I was not speaking of the romanz or of what the Church may or may not do about it. I was speaking of your deeds, Tristram. I need your vow you will never again put yourself in any peril for my sake!”

  “You know well it is a vow I cannot ever make or keep,” Tristram told her steadily.

  Judith sighed deeply, because she’d come to know her husband. He was and would always be not only her husband but also a knight, who felt bound to protect her at all costs.

  “Fine then, I shall make you a vow. One I’d rather die than ever break. I vow to also protect you at all costs,” she said, suddenly brightening and knowing that from now on she would strive to do everything in her power to prevent her beloved Tristram from coming to any harm.

  He scowled at her.

  “That is not a vow a lady should ever make to her lord!”

  “Why ever not?” Judith countered with an arched eyebrow.

  “Because it is my duty to protect you!”

  “Mine also, from now on. I shall protect you in return,” Judith countered, content she’d found the right way of it and knowing she would forever keep this vow.

  Tristram looked downright flustered for a moment. He however began to smile after a while, and cocked an eyebrow at her, telling her in a teasing voice, “In truth, your duty is to mind whatever I say, my lady. And be soundly spanked if you do not.”

  Judith rolled her eyes at her husband, knowing full well this might earn her a new spanking from him.

  “My bottom’s sore already!” she complained, however letting Tristram hear that her complaint was half feigned.

  “Not sore enough, since you still dare to roll your eyes at me,” Tristram countered with a wicked grin on his lips.

  “A heartless man you are!” Judith tossed at him, not resisting to goad him even further and already feeling her heart thump in anticipation at the further game they were going to play.

  Chapter 23

  The next day seemed like the most wonderful day in Judith’s life, although the sky was grey and cloudy. Yet her happiness was soon disturbed when the serving women b
rought Judith the news that Lady Fenice was no longer in her chambers. It soon turned out that Judith’s mother had indeed left the castle, in secrecy, with only a couple of retainers to accompany her. Judith’s heart simply skipped with fear because she was aware her mother had not left her chambers in several years. And it was perchance more than ten years since Lady Fenice had stepped out of the castle.

  “She went in the night. In secrecy!” Judith wrung her hands in distress. “What if something happens to her? She’s not known the world outside in so long. I do so fear for her!”

  Tristram put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Do you know where she might have gone?” he asked.

  Judith nodded, recalling only too well her mother’s wish to be with her sister, and she told Tristram of the letter her mother had received.

  “We shall send word to Severborough at once. Let us hope she will reach it safely,” Tristram said, before striding to call upon one of his men.

  It was with sheer relief that, several days later, Judith received the news her mother had indeed reached the priory, and the men Tristram had sent to make inquiries returned with a letter which bore Lady Fenice’s seal. It was a short letter, which plainly stated that Judith’s mother was at present happy where she was and had no further wish to return upon the dark home which had been her prison for so many years.

  “I did not know your mother was so unhappy here,” Tristram mused when Judith let him read the letter. “I knew she was ailing, but I always assumed it was only due to her frail health. Perchance Severborough may indeed prove a place of solace to her!”

  “It is a convent! How can anyone find any measure of solace in such a place?” Judith asked with an anguished shake of her head.

  Tristram shook his head.

  “Some people do. Those who have a calling for that kind of life. And you’re wrong to think this priory a bleak place. As you know, a large part of my family is in the Church. My second cousin is now prioress there. She joined the priory by her own choice and she concerns herself with the welfare of those who reside there. She’s always told me she seeks to make Severborough into a safe haven for women who wish to spend their time away from this world. You would certainly not be suited for convent life, but you are wrong to think your mother may be so unhappy there. It seems to me she’s already put aside the world outside.”

  Tristram’s words were meant to be soothing, and it was true her mother had long parted from the world outside the walls of her chamber. Yet Judith had to see for herself. So Tristram accompanied her to Severborough. It was a three-day journey, but not arduous. Nevertheless Judith wondered how it was that her mother, so used to spending time only in her chambers, had managed to make this trip. At last, they came upon the priory, and soon Judith had occasion to see that Tristram’s cousin was a kindly woman, who welcomed them with a serene smile upon her face. The pleasant gardens and the content faces of the women there, some dressed in nun’s garb, yet others in lay clothes, made Judith breathe a sigh of sheer relief. However, the solace she felt upon perceiving this was not a bleak place was soon disturbed when she set eyes on her aunt Edith. Unlike the faces of the other women here, Edith’s face was pinched and full of malice.

  Tristram’s cousin had already told Judith her mother was presently in her cell and was ready to welcome her. However Edith seemed to have already learnt Judith was on her way to see Lady Fenice.

  “So,” Judith’s aunt said, drawing her aside, “I hear Lord Tristram has decided to keep you on as his wife. Word goes he even took a flogging for your sake,” she went on in mocking tones.

  Judith pretended not to hear her.

  “How fares Raymond? I hope he’s safe and sound!” she said, because she was indeed fond of her step-cousin, who was a mild, kindly boy.

  “As well as can be expected. He lives. And I suppose he should be thankful for that. Yet he’s not as fortunate as some,” Edith said, looking pointedly at Judith.

  Then she added, in a voice which seeped with venom, “I always told my sister not to disparage your ill looks or lack of wit. God saw fit to endow you with the body and ways of a slattern, and surely even a man unable to claim his husbandly rights is lured by such easy charms. And now these charms served you well indeed. You’ve both a husband and a home.”

  Judith had meant to feel sorry for her aunt, whose husband had fallen in battle and who’d had to take the veil for her support of Eleanor. Yet at this time she couldn’t but recall Edith must have plotted with her mother to keep her away from Tristram.

  “I remember that, on my wedding night, you didn’t deem my husband at all unable to claim his rights. I wonder… Was it you who spread the ugly rumours when I petitioned for the annulment? And was it you behind the forged letter which stated the Church had unbound me from Tristram?”

  Her aunt cast her a guileless look.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Tristram saw the letter, and so did his cousin. And so did Lord FitzRolf. He has it now,” Judith said in a calm, quiet voice.

  “FitzRolf?” her aunt asked and her voice strived to appear unconcerned, yet Judith did not fail to catch the note of deep worry in it.

  “Aye, the very same. And now I’m off to see how my mother fares,” Judith said calmly.

  Edith was however still lingering and barring her way through the cloister.

  “So this is how it is? You seek to abandon your family and to sell us to our foes. You have betrayed our cause!” Edith cried.

  “Nay,” Judith countered calmly. “The cause was already lost and I accepted our defeat. The treachery is all your own. I doubt Queen Eleanor or your late husband ever knew of your plots. Whatever befalls you, you’ve brought upon your own head.”

  Judith strode away, without sparing Edith another glance. When she at last came to look upon her mother, she found Lady Fenice in her cell, which appeared to be more like a lady’s chamber than like convent quarters. Her mother was busily embroidering upon an altar cloth, and as soon as Judith entered, she beckoned her to show her the fineness of her work, as if she and Judith had not been parted at all during the last days.

  “You’ve always been the most skilful of embroiderers,” Judith said, kissing her mother’s cheek.

  She then attempted to tell her mother of her journey, and ask her how she fared, yet for a long while Lady Fenice refused to speak of such matters, as if she’d been residing in the convent already for long years. Judith at first began to fear her mother’s mind had become even more troubled by the recent events that had passed. At last Lady Fenice spoke to her of the way things truly lay, “I have not taken the veil yet and perchance I will never do so. The Prioress told me there is no need to if I do not wish it. Of course, she has not openly required it, yet it is custom that a gift of money is made to the Priory so I may remain here. I trust your lord husband will make a generous contribution befitting of our rank, now that King Henry has made us destitute.”

  “We are not destitute! Redmore is still our home, and Tristram will never keep from us what used to be ours. He has wealth of his own and has never in truth craved more.”

  Lady Fenice waved her hand and made a snort of derision.

  “However you may wish to deceive yourself, daughter! Yet I will have him pay a princely sum for me to spend my remaining years here, whether I take the veil or not!”

  “Don’t you wish to come back to Redmore?” Judith pleaded, still anguished that her sick mother would choose to spend her life away from the home she’d known for so many years.

  Her mother shook her head in a determined gesture.

  “My sister is here, and several other like-minded women. There is nothing I have to go back to at Redmore!”

  Nothing… Judith bit back a sigh, knowing her mother was now angry with her for what she perceived as a betrayal.

  “You’ll always have a home at Redmore, if you but wish to come back,” she said in a gentle voice, hoping her mother would hear the caring in it.
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  Lady Fenice gave a short, hollow laugh.

  “It will not be I who comes back, but you who joins this place sooner than you may think. I am certain the fiend will soon get tired of toying with you and will show his true colours.”

  “Why do you hate Tristram so? He’s never been but gracious to you!”

  Lady Fenice didn’t choose to answer, but stared away from her daughter, at the cross on the wall.

  “Oh,” Judith said softly after a while, full of chagrin. “I see. Perchance I was mistaken, perhaps it is not even that you believe me unworthy of his love. Perchance you were always afraid I have found someone I care for more than I do for you. But, Mother, it’s a very different kind of love, as you must know!”

  “Oh, such brash, uncouth words! You’re getting to be more like your father every day! You’re… common!” Lady Fenice spat, and Judith’s heart clenched in pain at her mother’s scorn, but she hid it as she took her leave.

  Tristram glanced at Judith searchingly when at last they mounted their horses to leave the priory behind.

  “You seem distressed. Do you still fear this is not a good place for your mother?”

  Judith shook her head. She had promised herself never to hide things from her husband ever again, and she would eventually reveal to him how her mother had fuelled her own fears and doubts regarding their marriage, yet she would do so in her own time. By then, she hoped her mother would have already found at least a measure of peace and even happiness in the place she’d chosen. And she fervently hoped one day Lady Fenice would get healthy and wise enough to learn to rejoice her only daughter had already found her own happiness.

  “No. I’m at peace. Let us go home!” Judith said, casting her husband a warm smile.

  R. R. Vane