Read Online By Queen's Grace by Shari Anton - Free Book Online Page B

the right of it. She might very well know this person who’d ordered her abduction. She might have stoodnext to him in the palace hall, talked to him in the gardens, shared a jest during one festivity or another.
    She’d been but a young girl when her parents sent her to the abbey, but she remembered most of the nobles, their names and faces. Which of them might have turned traitor?
    “If it helps,” Corwin said, “I believe we are headed for the far north, mayhap nearly to the border. The man may have a holding there. He may truly be Saxon or mayhap an exiled Scot. I know this is hard.” Corwin went very still, save for a brief, nearly imperceptible glance left. “Thurkill comes. I will turn you around and give you a push, toward the cave. We will talk more later.”
    Even though forewarned, Judith stumbled and cried out at the force of his shove.
    She began walking, becoming angry all over again. “Was that necessary?” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder.
    “It looked good to Thurkill. He needs to believe you and I are at odds.”
    “What makes you think we are not?”
    Judith sat against the cold cave wall, trying to ignore Thurkill’s loud, echoing voice, trying not to feel guilty for getting Oswuld into trouble with his father. She shouldn’t care if Thurkill punished his son severely, as he threatened, for allowing her brief escape.
    Corwin busied himself with the tack on his destrier, apparently also trying to disregard Thurkill’s shouting. He didn’t quite succeed. At times, he would glance at Oswuld with a puzzled look on his face, as if wondering how much more Oswuld could bear without fighting back.
    Duncan hadn’t yet returned. When he did, they would leave. She wished he would hurry. Then she wouldn’t have to listen to Thurkill’s ranting, and wouldn’t wonder if hiswrath would turn on her. He-hadn’t said a word to her since her capture, only thanked Corwin for his quick thinking and speedy action.
    Thanks to Corwin’s suggestion, names of Saxon nobles whirled around in her head, but she couldn’t think of one she knew who had reason-and the means-to lead a rebellion against England’s king.
    Judith pulled Ardith’s note from the folds of her tattered nun’s robe. As always, the sight of her friend’s lovely script proved soothing. Over the years, Ardith had written of her everyday life at Wilmont, of the trials and joys that came with the duties as chatelaine to so large an estate, as well as being a wife and mother. No matter how much she complained at the price of some commodity, or how difficult she found it to get everything done within the space of a day, Ardith sounded as happy as any woman could possibly be.
    She’d married a wonderful man, both lover and friend, who treated her with respect and who she respected in return. The two of them worked and played, shared joys and sorrows, always together. To Judith’s mind, they enjoyed the ideal marriage. What must it be like to know, deep within your heart, that one very special person would always be there when needed, would love and cherish you forever?
    “Is aught amiss?” Corwin asked.
    He stood before her, his arms crossed over the wide expanse of his chest. So much was amiss she didn’t know how he could ask her such a question. But then, he wasn’t looking at her, but at the parchment she held in her hands. ‘Twasnot for her that he voiced concern.
    “Nay. What leads you to think so?”
    “Youlooked. saddened. I thought mayhap Ardith wrote of ill tidings, and I wondered what they were.”
    On that, she could set his mind at ease. “Ardith writes of the boys’ antics, of her husband’s protectiveness and of not being able to see her feet. ‘Twill please her greatly to have her child born.”
    Ardith also wrote of her brother, but Corwin already knew that. Judith had ungraciously told him so last eve after he’d handed her the letter.
    The corner of his supple mouth curved into a brief smile. “She