“Where is Edmund?” she asked Roger.
He nodded his head to the linen partition across the back of the tent. “Asleep. Too much wine and too much food,” he said in disgust. “Go to him. He will need someone to hold his sick head.”
“Easy, brother!” Raine commanded Miles. “His head is sore enough without banging it against a tent pole.”
They carried Gavin on his shield, his legs hanging off the edge, his feet dragging in the dirt. He had just finished unhorsing his second opponent when the man’s lance slipped upward, just before he fell. The blow caught Gavin just above his ear. It was a hard blow which dented his helmet. Gavin saw only blackness and heard a ringing in his head that drowned all other noise. He managed to stay in his saddle, more from training than strength, as his horse turned and went back to the end of the field. Gavin looked down at his brothers and his squire, gave a sickly smile, then slowly fell into their uplifted arms.
Now Raine and Miles transferred their brother to a cot inside their tent. They removed the damaged helmet and put a pillow beneath his head.
“I will fetch a leech,” Raine said to his brother. “And you find his wife. There is nothing a woman likes more than a helpless man.”
Several minutes later, Gavin began to regain consciousness. Cool water was being pressed on his hot face. Cool hands touched his cheek. He was dazed when he opened his eyes. His head roared. At first he couldn’t remember whom he saw.
“It is I, Alice,” she whispered. He was glad there were no loud noises. “I have come to care for you.”
He smiled a bit and closed his eyes again. There was something he should remember, but couldn’t.
Alice saw that in his right hand he still clutched the veil Judith had given him. Even as he fell from his horse, he’d managed to loosen it from his lance. She didn’t like what that seemed to signify.
“Is he badly hurt?” a woman asked anxiously outside the tent.
Alice leaned forward and pressed her lips to Gavin’s unresponsive ones, guiding his arm till it went about her waist.
The light from the opened tent on his face and the pressure on his lips made Gavin open his eyes. His senses came back to him then. He saw his wife, flanked by the scowling figures of his brothers, staring at him as he embraced Alice. He pushed her away and tried to sit up. “Judith,” he whispered.
All the color drained from her face. Her eyes were dark and enormous. And the look she gave him was again of hatred. Then, suddenly, it changed to one of coldness.
The quick change of pressure in his injured skull as he tried to sit up was too much for Gavin. The pain was unbearable. Gratefully, everything went black. He fell heavily back onto the pillow.
Judith turned quickly on her heel and left the tent, Miles close beside her, as if she needed protection from some evilness.
Raine’s face was dark when he looked back at his brother. “You bastard—” he began, then stopped when he saw Gavin was again unconscious. Raine turned to Alice, who looked up at him triumphantly. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. “You planned this!” he sneered. “God! How can I have such a fool for a brother? You’re not worth one of Judith’s tears, yet I think you have already caused her many.”
Raine was further enraged when he saw a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. Without thought, he drew back his arm and slapped Alice with the back of his hand. He did not release her arm. When she looked back at him, Raine drew his breath in sharply at what he saw. Alice was not angry. Instead, she stared at his mouth. There was the unmistakable fire of passion in her eyes.
He was shocked and disgusted as he’d never been in his life. He threw her against a tent pole so hard she could scarcely draw her breath. “Get away from me!” he said quietly. “And fear for your life if our paths ever cross again.”
When she was gone, Raine turned back to his brother, who was beginning to move again. A leech who came to attend to Gavin’s sore head, stood shaking in the corner of the tent. The anger of one of the Montgomeries was no pretty sight.
Raine spoke to the man over his shoulder. “See to him—and if you have any treatment that will cause him more pain, use it.” He turned and left the tent.
It was night when Gavin woke from a deep, drugged sleep, induced by something the leech made him drink. The tent was dark and he was alone. Gingerly, he swung his legs over the edge of the cot and sat up. His head felt as if someone had made a deep cut from one corner of his eye, across the back of his head to the other eye, and now the two halves were being pulled apart. He propped his head in his hands, closing his eyes against the awful ache.
Gradually, Gavin was able to open them. His first thought was that it was odd that he was alone. He would have thought either his squire or his broth
ers would be with him. He straightened his back and was aware of a new pain. He had slept several hours in his armor, and every hinge, every ridge had imprinted itself, through leather and felt, into his skin. Why had his squire not undressed him? Usually the boy was very conscientious.
Something on the floor caught his eye and he bent and lifted Judith’s blue veil. He smiled as he touched it, remembering clearly how she’d run toward him, smiling, her hair flowing behind her. He’d never been so proud in his life as when she handed him the favor, although he’d held his breath when she came so near the war-horses. He ran his fingers across the border of seed pearls, held the gauze against his cheek. He could almost smell the scent of her hair, but of course that was impossible after the veil had been next to his sweaty horse. He thought of her face when he looked down at her. Now, that was a face worth fighting for!
Then Gavin seemed to remember it changing. He dropped his head back in his hands. There were pieces of the puzzle missing. His head hurt so much that it was difficult to remember. He could see a different Judith—not smiling, not snarling as she had the first night of their marriage, but a Judith who looked at him as if he no longer existed. It was a struggle to fit all the pieces together. Gradually, he remembered the lance hitting his head, then someone speaking to him.
Suddenly it was all clear. Judith had seen him holding Alice. It was strange that he could not remember wanting Alice’s comforting.
It took all Gavin’s effort to stand. He had to remove his armor. He was too tired and weak to walk while weighed down so heavily. No matter how much his head hurt, he had to find Judith and talk to her.
Two hours later, Gavin stood inside the great hall. He’d looked everywhere for his wife but could not find her. Every step caused him more pain until now he was nearly blind with the constant ache and the weariness of fighting it.
Through a haze, he saw Helen as she carried a tray of drinks to some guests. When she returned, he pulled her to a darkened corner of the hall. “Where is she?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.