Leaves On The Wind

Townend Carol

Rannulf relaxed back on to a cushion and reached for the polished ewer “Here, you must be thirsty after what they gave you.” He poured a generous measure and offered it to her.

“I’m not touching that!”

“’Tis quite safe,” he assured her, grinning. “They warned me how wild you were, and when I told them I would not be needing any potions to tame you, I think they thought me a madman. But they took me at my word. ’Tis plain fruit juice.”

Judith searched his eyes and accepted the goblet. She risked a small sip. There was no bitter aftertaste. She drained it dry.

“When did you last eat?” Rannulf had removed one of the silver covers from a dish, and was dipping his fingers in to taste the contents. “This is good.” His lips curved. “And as I have paid highly for this, we may as well eat.”

“They fed me when I was brought here,” Judith told him. “But I think I could manage some more. It must be hours since then.” Judith climbed unsteadily to her feet and walked round the table. She plumped down on to one of the embroidered cushions opposite Rannulf. She still felt lightheaded, as though she were dreaming, and she was not really hungry.

He appeared to be starving, and transferred his attention to the food. Grateful that she could watch him unobserved, Judith picked at some flat bread. She needed time to absorb everything that had happened.

Rannulf ate with neat economy. Slim brown fingers hovered over the bowls, selected spiced fish and meat and carried them to his lips. His tanned skin made his eyes seem greener. In parts his hair was lighter, streaked blond by the Mediterranean sun, but otherwise it remained as she remembered it, an unruly brown tangle. Superficially he looked much the same to Judith as he had done back in Mandeville Chase four years ago. And yet…

He glanced up and sent her a smile which brought a flush to her cheeks, and set off a peculiar tightening sensation in her stomach. It was not unpleasant.

She nibbled at her bread and continued to study him covertly, crumbling her portion in her fingers. His flowing white robe was firmly belted round his waist. His frame was not large, he carried no extra weight, and with a trained fighter’s eye Judith guessed he would be no easy man to best in combat. There was a hidden strength about him, a tension, a feeling of power held in control. And if it was unleashed?

Judith would not wish him to be her enemy.

An enamelled knife with a wicked, curving blade hung at his belt. No wonder she had failed to recognise him. His attire was nothing like that of the young English poacher who had helped her escape the Norman tyrant and his knights.

“Have you finished shredding that bread, or are you going to destroy the whole loaf, Judith?”

She started. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” She looked askance at the crumbs she had scattered over board and floor.

“Murderous thoughts, by the look of what you have done to that innocent loaf!”

“I…I was wondering…”

“Aye?”

Judith coloured She crushed the crust to nothing. “In…in Mandeville Chase, when we last met, did you ever come back to the hide? I often wondered.”

“Aye. I did. I’d snared a plump hare for us to feast on. But you’d gone. I saw other tracks around the shelter, but no signs of a struggle, so I assumed your brothers had found you. To be certain, I followed the tracks for about a mile and then I found…”

“Go on,” Judith urged.

“I found evidence that you’d been murdered.”

“But, Rannulf, as you see, I wasn’t murdered.”

“Aye.” Rannulf reached across the table and peeled her fingers from what was left of the loaf. He raised them to his lips.

Judith’s fingers felt strange. Hot all over, she wrenched them away. “Don’t do that,” she scowled. She knew she had nothing to fear from Rannulf. But he unsettled her.

Four years surviving as a youth in Mandeville Chase had taught Judith how to fight and claw for her life, but she’d learnt nothing of what it was to be a woman. She was all but naked in the gossamer silks that purported to clothe her, and felt desperately vulnerable.

“I did but salute your beauty, my lady,” Rannulf smiled.

“I don’t like it.”

Rannulf lifted a dark brow. “My apologies. I did not realise you were averse to a harmless flirtation. I merely thought to get some return on all the money I have expended for the privilege of spending this night with you.”

“All night. You will be with me all night?” Judith seized eagerly on his words. “There are to be no others, only you?”

He bowed his head. “You will be plagued by none but me till dawn touches the east and lights the sky with her rosy fingers.”

Relief washed through her. “Oh.”

“You are displeased by this?” Rannulf asked lightly. “I thought to save you from unwelcome…er…attentions.”

“Displeased? Nay, I’m not displeased,” Judith assured him hastily.

“You might express it a little more fervently,” Rannulf complained. “Try saying, ‘My thanks, Rannulf, for spending nearly all your money on coming to me in Balduk’s House.’ ’Tis not a place I usually haunt, whatever you may care to say.”

“Rannulf, I…” Judith said earnestly. Then she saw that light in his eyes. “Oh, you wretch!” She took aim, and a chunk of bread flew across the table. Rannulf ducked, and the missile sailed into the shadows.

Judith found herself smiling, and realised Rannulf’s teasing was making this easier for her. She warmed to him. “Tell me what it was you found in the Chase that made you think I’d been murdered,” she said.

“With pleasure. As I just told you, I followed your tracks, and eventually stumbled across a little bundle of clothing stuffed into the roots of a tree. It was your blue robe, I recognised it at once. There was blood on the bodice—”

“Eadwold cut me.”

“Eadwold? A friend? Surely a friend would not do such a thing?”