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“Stick together?”
“Aye, you see, the other boys – they disparaged both of us.”
Judith raised her brows in sheer wonder. She already knew Lord FitzRolf was one of Henry’s most trusted advisors, and Tristram came from one of the highest-ranking families in the realm. Besides, Tristram was Tristram, always the best-looking and best-spoken man wherever he went. How could anyone ever look down upon Tristram? His skill with a sword was known to everyone.
“Disparaged? How so?” she asked.
“Well,” Lord Bertran said, speaking in his mellow, good-natured voice. “You see, I was born a bastard, and it took tedious years of arguing with the Church to establish my birth was legitimate. At the time I was in fosterage, I was thought a bastard, no matter the truth of my birth.”
Judith now nodded, recalling the story of Lord FitzRolf’s birth whose parents’ marriage had been annulled at the time of his conception. The Church had eventually relented and his bastard status had been rescinded, yet it had taken years to do so. She could see how Sir Bertran had suffered, but it was hard for her to ever imagine anyone ever disparaging Tristram.
Lord Bertran must have caught her dismay, because he added with a shake of his head, “They called me a bastard and Tristram a girl. He had been raised by a widowed mother and had no brothers, but only sisters. And he was gently bred, not rough like them, and used to spending his time with women rather than with men. Besides, it took a while for him to come into his full height and strength. At the time he was quite scrawny and far shorter than all of us. He did his growing later on, later than most.”
Judith stared at Tristram’s friend in sheer surprise, and Lord FitzRolf chuckled. “I see you do not know of this. It is a tale I assume he doesn’t often share. It is a good tale though – the others’ disparagement, it made me better than I was because I learnt not to care for their ill thoughts upon me. This taught me to rely just on myself. As for Tristram – it also made him better than he was. He strived to show them he could fight even better than they did, even in spite of his lack of strength at the time. And there is one more thing. It taught him not to be vain. You might have perceived Tristram is not vain, in spite of his good looks and wit and skill. Wit he may have been born with. Yet his skill he earned through hard work. And he grew late into his good looks.”
Lord FitzRolf now gazed at her pointedly. “And he is never petty or cruel to others. Because he’s learnt first-hand the damage cruelty can do. Rather, he seeks to protect those he cares for from it, even if it is at a cost to himself.”
With this and a bow of his head, Lord FitzRolf rose from the table, to go to the practice field and train with the men. Judith spent her next hour musing upon FitzRolf’s words and remembering a time when she’d thought Tristram the kindest man in this world. Later, she had occasion to glance upon the practice field, and found Tristram there, engaged in swordplay with his friend. Both knights seemed evenly matched and at first it was hard to tell who would best the other with the sword, but Tristram’s moves were faster and more graceful than those of Sir Bertran. Where his friend was strong, Tristram was quick, and Judith soon came to understand Bertran FitzRolf’s fame as the best jouster in the land might well be true, yet Tristram de Brunne truly deserved his repute as King Henry’s best swordsman. She’d always thought he’d come easily into his skill, just as she’d always thought his other gifts had come easy to him. Still, it was not so. She understood he’d worked hard for the skill he now possessed. And his friend had not been mistaken. Whatever else he was, Tristram was not vain. And truth be told, he’d never made her feel plain under his gaze. Instead, at times, when she’d seen herself mirrored in his eyes, she’d started fancying herself beautiful. And she clearly recalled the night he’d told her he loved her, he’d called her beautiful. All lies – she had decided later, when she had learnt he loved another. Judith gnashed her teeth recalling the searing pain she’d felt that night, and now she simply strove to forget what had been. It was of no matter. Now Tristram had grown to hate her.
Chapter 14
“Tomorrow is Friday. A day of fasting and prayer and of contrition. A day you should observe, just as you vowed.”
Tristram sighed deeply upon hearing his cousin’s surly voice. It was a voice he’d come to hate. And he decided he’d erred when thinking his cousin was not entirely a bad man. Perchance it hadn’t been so when he’d entered the Church. But now Tristram hated Isidore and his malice. And he hated what his cousin said next.
“You’re to chastise your wife properly! You have tarried long enough and you know it. Today she seemed to me even more defiant, casting you dark, venomous looks. It has to end! So put an end to her defiance, unless you want me to act in your stead! I have the Church behind me and I will, if need be.”
Tristram found himself growling in sheer fury, “You will not touch her!”
His cousin cocked an eyebrow, and tossed out in a voice as cold as ice, “Then do your duty as you vowed! And show me that this female does not rule you.”
Tristram looked grimly upon the implement which his cousin tossed on the table in front of him. It was a birch switch, and the purpose his cousin had in mind seemed clear. Tristram was still mutely staring at it when Judith suddenly came upon them, and when her eyes fell upon the birch, it was plain she also understood its purpose.
“So,” she said in a mocking voice, which sounded unconcerned and defiant.
And Tristram knew there was no return from this, because he understood too well his cousin meant to act not only due to his mad religious zeal, but also because Judith had humiliated his family in the worst possible way when she’d let it known a De Brunne had been unable to bed her. Tristram had not truly cared for the insult, because he’d been too pained over the failure of his marriage, yet his family had deeply cared, and they would not let this be, enlisting both Henry and the Church’s support to punish the woman who’d offended them so grievously. Tristram’s own pleas had not made Henry fully relent, even if the punishment decided upon Judith had ended up being far milder than the one his family had wished for.
“Many thanks, cousin, for this much-needed tool,” Tristram made himself toss out, plastering a careless smile upon his face and picking up the birch.
He then did the only thing he could do when his cousin was staring at Judith with such spite in his eyes. He took her away from there, hoisting her over his shoulder. He felt relieved she did not struggle or protest, which made easy his way up the stairs to their bedchamber.
At last, he cast his wife on the bed, tossing the birch aside.
“Listen to me well, you foolish, reckless woman! Listen to me for once...” he started.
Judith shrugged with a gleam of sheer hatred in her brown eyes.
“Do what you will and have your revenge! I do not care.”
Tristram raked a hand through his hair, because it seemed Judith had not understood at all the message he’d thought to convey through Lady Fenice. It had been his belief that the wise Lady Fenice would make her daughter see reason, and that Judith would listen to what her mother had to say, but he had been mistaken. He sighed, knowing there would be no return from this. His cousin must go from Redmore, once and for all, and there was only one course to take. He would have to deliver another punishment – one which was even sounder than the one he’d delivered upon the day of his arrival. Yet not one which was unduly harsh, because he could not bear to hurt his wife, even if she had hurt him deeply. He reasoned he could make Judith humble and repentant without inflicting too much pain upon her. Certainly, he would trample upon her pride in order to do so, but he reasoned it was far betterhedid so now, rather than have his cousin cruelly flog her in Church for all to see.
He made his voice dispassionate and hard. “You shall be punished. At once and well punished. And, after you’ve been punished, you’re to go down the stairs and tell all and sundry you’ve been soundly chastised for defying me. You are to tell them, loud and clear, that you are at last humbled and repentant.”
Judith said nothing, just staring at him, tight-lipped and pale.
“It’s either this punishment, in the privacy of your own chamber, or a punishment in front of all to see, and far harder than the one you underwent when Redmore surrendered!” he threatened in a stern voice.
Judith cast him a mutinous look, yet he knew her well enough to understand she would rather submit to a punishment in the privacy of their chamber. He felt relieved, but nevertheless aware he had a hard task ahead of him. He had to make her look truly repentant, and persuade his cousin he’d brought his miscreant wife to heel.
