Elizabeth Chadwick - The Wild Hunt

Alicia stood up and moved stiffly to the flagon. It was almost empty but she splashed dregs into a cup and, ignoring the sediment, gulped it down.

'Your husband is innocent,' she said abruptly. 'The guilt is all mine. Lay the blame at my door, child, not his.'

Judith turned her head and stared at her mother in bewilderment.

'Yes, you do have a right to know, but not from your husband's stumbled-upon knowledge.'

Assailed by shock and dizziness, she reached for and grabbed the back of the bench chair. She had not believed in her wildest nightmare that it would come like this, so suddenly without time to prepare. What was she going to say? Mary, mother of God.

'Judith ...' She swallowed hard, lifted her chin and forced out the words as if they were scalding her tongue. '... Judith, Maurice de Montgomery was not your father ... I should have told you long since, but it was never the time ... And now I fear it is too late.'

Judith stared at her struggling mother, as if she had suddenly grown two heads.

Alicia put her hand to her breast. 'I know it is difficult for you to understand, but if Maurice had ever found out--'

'Then who is?' Judith interrupted.

'Judith, I ...' Alicia extended her hand in a pleading gesture.

Judith leaped to her feet, ignoring it. 'Who, Mama?' she demanded again.

Alicia made a small , frightened gesture. 'Henry ... Prince Henry ... the King.'

'That's not possible. He is only Guy's age now!' Judith stared at her mother, appalled and disbelieving.

'Even at fourteen he was no novice to the game,' Alicia answered wearily. 'He knew more than a woman twelve years wed.' Of necessity, she held Judith's gaze, but the feelings of guilt were almost more than she could bear, and her daughter's anguished look seared her heart.

'Why, Mama, why?'

Alicia gripped the bench until her knuckles whitened.

'Why?' Judith repeated, and dashed her sleeve across her eyes.

'Maurice blamed me for being barren. Every month when I bled he would beat me and the times in between he used me as if we were dog and bitch ... and for nothing. Maurice had more sluts and casual whores than I can recall , but not one of them quickened. He was unable to beget children.' Her mouth twisted. 'Prince Henry came visiting on a hunting trip. Maurice was away. I had the fading remains of a black eye and bruises on my arms and his latest whore was flouting my authority in the hall . It did not matter that Henry was so young. I was so sick of Maurice that I'd have lain down for a leprous beggar in order to get myself with child and shut his filthy mouth. We had a night and a morning and you were conceived. For a time things were better. He did not beat or abuse me lest I miscarried, but after you were born, a daughter, matters went from bad to worse. He expected me to conceive again and when I did not the beatings increased apace.'

Judith's voice cracked. 'Mama, why didn't you tell me before?'

'I meant to, truly I did, but the time was never right and I knew how much you hated Maurice. At least when he beat you, you thought he had the right. I was afraid what you would reveal to him if he drove you too far.'

'And Guyon knows the truth of my begetting?'

'Not all of it,' Alicia watched her daughter anxiously.

Judith's expression was now unreadable, but her hands were clenched at her sides and much as Alicia desired to cross the gulf and embrace her, the fear of rebuff was greater and held her rooted to the spot. 'Probably he has Henry's version of the event ... I was not even sure until you spoke that Henry knew of your existence.'

'There have been remarks passed in court concerning my likeness to Arlette of Falais,' Judith said flatly as the control to understand warred with the need to strike out. Her marriage had been ripped apart by this murky secret from the past - her mother's past. She remembered the accusations she had flung at Guyon in her pain, and how he had absorbed them, swearing his innocence, but unable to give her the facts.

And now it might be too late to set matters to rights. The pain was physical. 'Mama ...' She stopped and looked round as Cadi trotted into the room and shook herself, spraying water from her close white coat. Guyon followed her, diamonds of rain winking on his fur-lined cloak.

His hair had begun to curl at the edges. He was clutching a roll of parchment in one hand and his expression was at first blank, then wary as he looked at the two women and sensed the tension.

Alicia gave a soft gasp and her knees buckled.

Guyon did not quite reach her in time and her head struck the sharp side of the brazier as she fell . Judith was rooted to the spot, unable to move, all her being still caught up in shock. Guyon bent over Alicia and felt for the pulse in her throat.

It beat there steadily enough - in rhythm with the blood welling through her dark hair. He swore and propped her senseless form against him and pressed the cuff of his tunic to the side of her head.

'Judith, for God's love, don't just stand there like a sheep, go and get your medicines - make haste, she's bleeding hard!'

The snarled urgency in his voice jerked her into movement. She snatched up the nearest thing available to help him staunch the flow - her mother's painstakingly worked embroidery - thrust it at him, and sped to find her nostrums.

Grimly, quickly, she worked, ruining her beautiful gown, her commands to him terse and authoritative and he did as she bade him without complaint or demur. At last, finished, she sat back to regard her handiwork. The stitches were not as neat as they might have been, for the light was poor and she had been in a hurry, but it would not matter. Alicia's hair would cover the scar.

Her mother was dazed, but her colour was reasonable, her breathing and heartbeat steady and her pupils responded to the candle flame passed in front of them. Gently, they undressed her to her shift and Guyon carried her to the curtained bed and laid her in it. Together they looked down at her and then at each other, and slowly Judith walked into Guyon's embrace and laid her head against his chest.

'I can see why you kept it from me,' she said in a small voice. 'Guyon, I know it is not enough, but for what it is worth I'm sorry.'

'She told you, then? I was going to speak to her about it, but Henry has kept me too busy for leisure these last few days and, truth to tell , I could not bear the atmosphere in this house for longer than it took to change my clothes.'

'Guy ...'

He studied her capable blood-caked fingers gripping the dark stuff of his tunic. 'Hush, love, we've all made our mistakes, yes, and paid for them.' He grimaced. And perhaps still were paying.

She lifted her eyes to him. 'Do you think that Henry will openly acknowledge me?'

'Christ in heaven, I hope he has more sense!

Mischief prompted him to tell me. He likes to call the tune and watch men dance, but if he officially recognises you as his child, what do you think Robert de Belleme will do? Aside from the insult your mother's adultery would cast on the Montgomery bloodline, there is the matter of your birthright. You hold lands that are not legally yours.

If your uncles ever discovered the truth, we'd have a war on our hands.'

'But they wouldn't ... not with Henry ...'

'De Belleme is backing Robert Curthose for the crown and so are more than half the other barons.

I've letters with me, rough drafts as yet, commanding out the fyrd, the common men of the shires and my own feudal levies. Henry is preparing for war with the ordinary English people as his backbone because he does not know how many of the smiling faces at his table are also smiling at Curthose. If Curthose, with de Belleme at his right hand, carries the day, then God help us!'

Judith shuddered. 'Guy, stop frightening me!'