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It waswith disappointment mixed with a sort of relief that Judith received the summons to come to speak to her father in the lodgings they’d taken in London while Sir Edward had business at Court. This year was the first time Judith had come to Court, and it had been both bliss and torture to be here. She’d always wished to come here because she was fond of verse and song, and of the troubadours. However, Judith worried for her mother, who was so frail of health. Although she’d found true entertainment in this place, she couldn’t help but think of her poor ailing mother, who, even after all these years, still pined for her sunny home in the South of France, and hadn’t ever brought herself to like her English husband’s Northern castle.
“Come, daughter,” her father told her in his stern, gruff voice, beckoning her to come closer to where he stood.
Judith nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. Although he was her father, Judith knew him but little. She’d spent few moments in his company, as he’d been always busy. When she was little, she’d been afraid of even the sound of his voice, because her mother had always told her he was a harsh man. Yet she never recalled her father having ever laid a harsh hand upon her or ever having said something unkind. Still, she knew he was quite cruel and unfeeling to her mother. So she’d never been able to warm towards him.
Her father glanced at her awkwardly, as if not knowing what to say to her. He didn’t speak a word of Occitan, and her mother had always refused to learn what she called the rough, coarse language of the serfs. Since her mother wouldn’t speak English, her parents spoke Norman to each other, a language they both understood and spoke well, but which neither of them preferred. Perchance this was why they always spoke to each other so little.
“A match!” her father suddenly said in English and his voice sounded too loud to Judith’s ears. “I’ve made a good match for you, daughter. You should be pleased!”
Judith raised her eyebrows, not understanding. She already knew of the match her mother wished to make for her. Her mother wanted her to wed Raymond, her sister Edith’s stepson, and had assured her Raymond would one day grow up to be a fine husband for her. Judith had always been fond of her step-cousin just as she was of Lady Edith’s true daughter, Emma. So she supposed that in six years from hence, she’d learn to love him as a wife should. Besides, it was sensible to wed someone one knew from childhood and not a stranger, so she tried to feel persuaded all would be well.
“Raymond, aye, Mother told me,” she replied with a timid nod of her head.
Her father frowned darkly.
“Not Edith’s pup! A man. A grown man of good birth and good breeding. A fine match indeed!”
Judith tried to still her thumping heart.
“A stranger?” she muttered, because, until this year, she’d never even visited London and had led her sheltered life at home, by her mother’s side.
Judith enjoyed her sheltered life. It suited her quiet nature. She had her own songs and stories to keep her company and her beloved home, Redmore Castle, besides her mother whom she cherished. And the thought of wedding a stranger seemed simply terrifying to her.
“A fine man, you’ll come to see,” her father said, and his voice sounded gentler. “He wants to wedyou.”
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…”
