Authors: J.C. Murtagh
He sighed. “Fine. Go, then.”
She fled to the house, her nerves strung tight. Perhaps the truth was going to be as difficult as the lie.
That afternoon, Judith stood over the hearth stirring the large pot of stew. She rubbed the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve and looked towards the front door, hearing a commotion outside.
Her mother-in-law, standing beside her, threw her knife down. “What is going on out there?”
Judith watched her waddle to the window and peer out with a skeptical eye. Her back straitened and her jaw dropped. “Bless my eyes. It’s Baron Blacwin.”
Judith dropped the spoon into the stew.
She ran up next to Gertrude and peeked out the window for confirmation.
“What is he doing here?” Judith asked in horror.
“I don’t know, but you better hurry up and get the table set for him!”
She peered out again to see Roger and personal guard with the baron.
Her head spun. “We’re not having him in, are we?”
“Are you daft, child? Get that table set.”
She watched in distress as her mother-in-law joined Garreth and his father to greet the baron. They kissed his ringed fingers and begged him to come inside. She prayed he would deny their request.
To her dismay, she heard him agree and they all headed for the door.
Judith was fear stricken and her heart begged fight or flight.
Flight won and she scrambled up the ladder to the loft. She backed into the corner, biting down on her knuckles and praying this was all a nightmare.
“Baron Blacwin, we insist you share our table,” Garreth urged.
“Thank you,” she heard the baron reply.
“but,
I do not wish to intrude. I just have some questions for you. It will only take a moment.”
“Intrude? Nonsense,” Gertrude said. “We will get you a nice bowl of stew. Judith! Where has your wife gone, Garreth?”
Judith cursed them all and slid down the wall to her knees, hiding her head in her hands. If only she could climb out of the window and escape. She knew her legs would break from the fall.
The ladder shook.
Someone was coming for her.
“Mummy? Are you up here?” Sam’s head of marigold hair popped up to greet her. “Mummy, there you are! Baron Blacwin is here!”
“I don’t care. Shush now and get back down stairs.”
Confusion filled his big hazel eyes. “But Mummy, he has a big black carriage and a horse and a big feather in his hat! Don’t you want to meet him?”
“No. Now go. I am not feeling well.”
“Judith!” Gertrude yelled. “I need help serving the stew!”
“I cannot go down there. Please Sam, tell her I am ill.”
“Come on Mummy, don’t be scared. He is not frightful. He’s not a bat.”
“I know he isn’t a bat!” she said, trying to wrangle her emotions of excitement and utter terror.
“Judith, get down here, you worthless witch!” Bart yelled.
Judith swallowed hard. What would happen if she
didn’t
go down might be worse than facing the baron. Perhaps he would not recognize her in her drab rags.
“Better come Mummy,” Sam said, frowning at her.
Reluctantly she stood up and followed Sam down the ladder.
“Good eve,” she whispered with a bow, keeping her gaze to the ground.
She crossed the room to the hearth. Her hands shook as she ladled stew into each bowl.
She served the baron first, resisting the urge to look at him. When he took the bowl from her, their hands brushed. Everything in the room faded away as their eyes met. His lips parted in surprise. Dread crept over her. He recognized her.
Before he could speak, her mother-in-law interrupted.
“Are you going to stand there and stare at him all day, Judith? There are other hungry people at this table, too!”
She backed away and went to get the other bowls of stew.
She could feel his eyes on her as she ladled the stew and served the others at the table.
Sam dunked a handful of bread into his stew and chomped on it, looking up at the baron admiringly. “I like your feather.”
“Thank you,” the baron replied.
“My mummy collects bird feathers for me when she goes to the forest to find berries. She was kidnapped by bandits and she just came back home.”
Judith winced and walked back over to the stew pot.
“Is that so?” the baron asked in a skeptical tone.
“She got lost and ran into bandits,” Garreth added. “She is lucky to be alive. Isn’t that so Judith?”
“Yes,” she whispered without turning around.
“They were fat bandits with big swords,” Sam added.
“Very interesting,” Baron Blacwin answered.
Judith wished she could flee out the front door and never return.
“Mummy, tell him the story.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I’d like to hear it, if you don’t mind,” Baron Blacwin said, his voice as smooth as silk.
Judith slowly turned around and looked over at the table, her eyes finally settling on him.
He leaned forward, his lips pulled tight in displeasure. “I’m sure it was a dreadful experience.”
“It was humbling.”
Her eyes pleaded with him.
“These bandits, did they assault you?” he asked, ignoring her distress.
“No, I ran,” she answered, on the brink of tears.
“You ran, did you?”
“She ran, all right!” Bart chuckled. “Don’t believe a word that comes out of her lying’ lips, Baron. I’m sure she enjoyed whatever torture they gave her.
Refill my ale, wench.”
Judith obediently grabbed the ale pitcher and carried it to her father-in-law. She gripped the handle tightly in fear of spilling. As she drew it back, her unsteady grasp caused her to spill some down the back of her father-in-law’s hand.
“Wasteful, stupid girl!” Bart threw his fist up, backhanding her across the face.
She stumbled back, dousing ale all over the floor as she fell into a pile of chopped firewood.
“Foolish child! Look what you have done!” Gertrude yelled.
She heard nothing but the ringing in her ears. Fiery pain seared her backside where she landed on the logs.
A teary blur came into view over her. The Baron. He held his hand out to her and pulled her to her feet.
She stood up, shaking, and looked at her son, pressed against his father’s shoulder in fear.
Her husband, the coward, bowed his head in shame.
“What the hell is going on here?” the baron whispered against her ear.
“Thank you, Baron,” Judith said, pulling out of his hold. She went to fetch a rag to sop up the ale from the floor. As she knelt down over the mess, she found it hard to hold back the tears.
“She is ignorant, my lord,” her mother-in-law said.
The Baron was obviously disturbed. “It’s fine. I need a private word with Judith regarding her disappearance.”
“She is fine now,” Garreth said, “Don’t bother yourself, Lord Blacwin. I’m sure you have much more important things to worry about.”
“I have a berry pie waiting,” Gertrude said, enticingly.
“I have no need for dessert. Thank you,” he answered in a cold voice.
“Judith, get the baron’s cloak,” her father-in-law said, bowing his head.
Judith wiped her tears away and went to retrieve the baron’s cloak. She followed him to the door and looked up into his eyes, guilt stricken.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
“Come outside,” he replied, holding the door open.
She stepped out obediently. Judith knew her family would be at the window listening, so she led him to the opposite side of the carriage.
The baron ordered his men to step aside until he was finished speaking with her.
Once everyone was out of sight, Judith wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his black doublet.
“Forgive me, please. I meant you no harm, I swear to you.” She sobbed.
He ripped her off him and stared into her eyes with distain. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you, truly?”
She took a deep breath. “My name is Judith Timbolt.”
“Why have you deceived me?”
“I did not mean to. I just wanted to escape this life.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin.
“Where is the true Lora Noire?”
Tears obscured her vision of his face. “She is dead, my lord. I found her dead in the forest and I took her clothes. She poisoned herself.”
“You found her dead? This is preposterous. You expect me to believe you did not take her life?”
“Yes! I swear to you I did not. I found her dead.”
“You assumed her identity. You might as well have killed her.”
“I did no such thing. I found her face down near the stream when I went to fetch water. I only wanted her dress but then a man came and he assumed I was her. He brought me to you… I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Why did she kill herself?”
“Because she was being forced to marry you.”
He looked surprised by that revelation and looked away, his jaw tightening.
“I wanted to marry you,” she pleaded.
“Everything you told me was a lie,” he scoffed. “You wound me deeply.”
“You must find it in your heart to forgive me, please! I cannot live with myself otherwise.”
“Forgive you? You do not deserve forgiveness. Do you know what you have done?”
His words pierced her. “I do, and I am sorry. I wanted to tell you, but there was no way, so I ran.”
“This is treasonous!” he snapped. “What do I tell her father?”
“Tell him she killed herself. She is dead.”
“She’s more than dead. She’s an imposter!” He looked off into the distance.
“I’m so sorry, Cal.” She clutched at the front of his doublet again.
He tore her hands away. “Does your family know what you have done?”
She shook her head. “They know only what they told you.”
He moved away from her. “I would reveal you, if it did not make me look the fool.”
“Don’t leave me here,” she begged, her remorse becoming too much to bare.