Chapter Eleven
THERE WERE TEN HORSES INSIDE THE FENCED AREA. EACH one was sleek and strong with long legs that inspired visions of the animals running across flowery fields.
“I am to choose one, my lord?” Judith asked as she leaned across the fence rail. She looked up at Gavin beside her, watching him suspiciously. All morning he had been exceptionally pleasant; first in the garden, and now as he gave her a gift. He’d helped her on the mount, taken her arm when she, in an unladylike gesture, climbed atop the rails. She could understand his irritation, his scowls, but she was quite leery of this new kindness.
“Any one that you want,” Gavin answered, smiling at her. “They have all been gentled and are ready for a bridle and saddle. Do you see one you like?”
She looked back at the horses. “There isn’t one I don’t like. It’s not easy to choose. I think that one, the black one.”
Gavin smiled at her choice, a mare with a high-stepping, dainty gait. “She is yours,” he said. Then, before he could help her down, Judith was on the ground and through the gate. Within minutes, Gavin’s man had the mare saddled and Judith swung onto her animal’s back.
It felt wonderful to ride a good horse again. To Judith’s right lay the road to the castle; to her left, the dense forest, a hunting ground for the Montgomeries. Without thought, she took the road to the forest. For too long she had been confined inside walls and jammed between people. The great oaks and beeches looked inviting, their branches connecting overhead to form a private shelter. Judith did not look back to see if she was being followed, but only plunged ahead toward the waiting freedom.
She rode hard, testing the mare and herself. They were compatible, as she knew they would be. The horse enjoyed the run as much as Judith.
“Quiet now, sweet one,” Judith whispered when they were well inside the forest. The mare obeyed, daintily picking her way between the trees and bushes. The ground was covered by ferns and hundreds of years of accumulated foliage. It was a soft carpet and a silent one. Judith breathed deeply of the clean, cool air and let her mount decide the way.
The sound of running water caught Judith’s attention, as well as her mare’s. A stream, deep and cool, ran swiftly between the trees, sunlight playing through the overhanging branches. She dismounted and led her horse to the water. As the mare quietly drank, Judith pulled handfuls of sweet grass and began to rub the sides of the horse. They had galloped hard for several minutes before reaching the forest, and the mare was sweaty.
Judith was engrossed in her pleasant task, glorying in her horse, the day, the roaring water. The mare perked up her ears and listened, then backed away nervously.
“Quiet, girl,” Judith said, stroking the soft neck. The horse took another, sharper step backward, threw her head back and neighed. Judith whirled, grabbing at the reins of the frightened animal and missed.
A wild boar approached, sniffing the air. It was wounded, its tiny eyes glassy with pain. Judith tried again to get the reins of her horse but the boar began its charge and the mare, wild with fear, took off. She grabbed her skirts and began to run. But the charging pig was faster than she. Judith m
ade a running leap at a low-hanging tree branch, caught it and began to pull herself up. Strong from a lifetime of work and exercise, she swung her legs to another branch just as the boar reached her. It was no easy task to keep herself on the tree as the crazed boar charged and recharged the trunk at her feet.
Finally, Judith was able to stand on the lowest branch while holding onto another one above her head. As she looked down at the boar, she realized she was very high off the ground. She stared with sightless fear, her knuckles turning white as she grasped the overhead branch with all her strength.
“We must spread out,” Gavin ordered his man, John Bassett. “There’s not enough of us to go in pairs, and she couldn’t have gone far.” Gavin tried to keep his voice level. He was angry at his wife for galloping away on a strange horse into a forest unknown to her. He’d stood with the horses and his men, watching her ride away. He expected that as soon as she reached the edge of the woods, she would return. It took him a moment to realize that Judith was going into the forest.
Now he could not find her. It was as if she’d vanished, swallowed by the trees. “John, you go north, around the edge of the trees. Odo, take the south. I’ll try the center.”
Inside, the forest was quiet. Gavin listened carefully for any sign of her. He’d spent a great deal of his life here and knew every inch of the woods. He knew the mare would probably head for the stream that ran through its center. He called Judith several times, but there was no answer.
Then his stallion pricked up his ears. “What is it, boy?” Gavin questioned, listening hard. The horse took a step backward, his nostrils flaring. The animal was trained in hunting, and Gavin recognized the signals. “Not now,” he said. “Later we’ll look for game.”
The horse didn’t seem to understand, but pulled his head down against the reins. Gavin frowned then let him have his head. He heard the sound of the boar rooting at the base of the tree before he saw it. He would have led his mount around the beast had his eye not caught sight of a bit of blue in the tree above.
“God’s teeth!” he whispered as he realized Judith was pinned in the tree. “Judith!” he called but got no answer. “You’ll be safe in a moment.”
His horse put its head down in anticipation of the charge, while Gavin drew his longsword from the scabbard on the side of the saddle. The stallion, well trained, ran very close to the boar and Gavin leaned half out of the saddle, his powerful thighs gripping hard as he bent and sent the sword through the animal’s spine. It squealed once and kicked before it died.
Gavin jumped quickly from the saddle and retrieved the weapon. He looked up at Judith and was astonished at the sheer terror on her face. “Judith, it’s all right now. The boar is dead. He can’t hurt you.” Her terror seemed out of reason with the danger. She had been safe enough in the tree.
She didn’t answer but kept staring at the ground, her body as rigid as his iron lance.
“Judith!” he said sharply. “Are you hurt?”
Still she neither answered nor acknowledged his presence.
“It’s only a short jump,” he said as he held his arms up for her. “Let go of the branch above and I’ll catch you.”
She didn’t move.
Gavin was puzzled as he looked again at the dead boar, then up at his terrified wife. Something besides the pig frightened her. “Judith,” he said quietly and moved so he was in the line of her vacant stare. “Is it the high place that frightens you?” He wasn’t sure, but she seemed to move her head in a tiny nod. Gavin grabbed the lowest branch near her feet and easily swung himself up beside her. He put his arm about her waist, but she gave no hint that she was aware of him.
“Judith, listen to me,” he said calmly and quietly. “I’m going to take your hands and lower you to the ground. You must trust me. Don’t be afraid.” He had to pry her hands loose and she grabbed onto both of his hands in panic. Gavin braced himself against a branch, and lowered Judith to the ground.