Lord Tristram’s Love Match by R.R. Vane
Chapter 15
Two years ago, 1172
Tristram had had enough of Redmore, and he’d already begun to long for his own home, warmer and with more comfort than this northern castle. He’d strived to see Redmore through Judith’s eyes, but he had failed. And it did not help that Judith behaved differently towards him than he’d envisaged. The first day after his arrival, she’d professed she had pressing business and she had avoided him. Tristram had told himself she was upset by the discourteous way he’d behaved towards her on the stairs, and he had berated himself for his barely governed lust. He’d refrained from touching her ever since, trying to engage her in talk and laughter, and telling himself that once she saw he did not mean to treat her like an unfeeling lout, she was bound to forgive him for the crude, artless caresses he’d bestowed upon her on the day of his arrival. Yet, in spite of all his efforts to behave courteously, Judith was cold to him, and had taken to coming to bed long after he did. Tristram began to understand she was truly angered by what he’d done. So he’d tried to have an earnest talk with her.
“Judith, the day of my arrival. On the stairs. I behaved wretchedly. I see only too well I’ve angered you, and for that I wish to–”
Judith had cut him off with a bright smile.
“Nay, you have nothing to reproach yourself for, my lord. You’ve always been considerate and kind to me. It’s just that Redmore takes so much of my time now! I am weary.”
Tristram had nodded, but he’d seen the look in her eyes. It was sad and forlorn. But perchance Judith was right, and she worried much over Redmore. He’d seen how hard she toiled every day to oversee her home and learn things she hadn’t known before, and he’d attempted to aid her in some of her duties. Yet he’d found most of the people in the castle spoke the English of the North and he had trouble keeping up with them. Nevertheless he was now striving to learn this new and different English, and he felt confident he’d soon overcome this obstacle. He’d tried to get Judith to teach him, thinking this would help regain the bond they’d shared before they’d parted, but Judith had claimed to be too tired or too busy to teach him her way of speaking.
He sighed, beginning to think there was an easy way out of their conundrum. He loved his own home and he was needed there. And he could not see why Judith could not join him there. She was his wife, and from now on they belonged together. He didn’t wish to ever part from her for as long as he had. Certainly, he would go away whenever he was summoned by his liege, but once both he and Judith resided at Devensey, which was far closer to London and the Court, their life would become easier. And Judith would find it less arduous to oversee his demesne, rather than be burdened with the care of stark Redmore. Sir Roderick and his capable wife would get more aid in overseeing things at Redmore, as he and Judith could appoint several of their vassals to come to help manage it. As for Lady Fenice, she could certainly join them in their new home, and he believed the warmer, gentler climate of his home and the increased comfort would improve the good lady’s health. He liked the lady Fenice because she reminded him of the wise, tender mother he’d lost, and he would never dream of having Judith part from her.
“I have been thinking,” he said cautiously one day, when he’d finally been able to persuade Judith to take a walk with him upon the hills. “If Redmore is such a burden to you, perchance you might consider joining me at Devensey.”
He brightened when he thought of his home, and began to understand this might be the change Judith needed in order to become his wife in truth. She would learn to know him better by getting to know his childhood home, and thus begin to see he truly cared for her. Perchance she’d learn to love him.
Judith frowned at him.
“You wish me to leave my home?”
Tristram understood he may have erred in telling her of this so soon.
“Not now. Think upon it. I cannot stay forever at Redmore,” he told her.
“You’ve been here for but two weeks,” Judith countered, and for the first time since he’d known her, that sweet voice of hers sounded sharp.
He sighed.
“Aye, and I shall stay longer, yet we need to speak of this. Devensey is my true home.”
“And Redmore is mine,” she countered in the same sharp voice as before.
“You are my wife now. And…” he said in a placating voice.
Judith cut him off. “I expect the next thing you’ll say is that I am bound to obey you in every way and follow you wherever you go,” she flung at him and her voice sounded even sharper.
Tristram suddenly felt at the end of his tether. And he didn’t fail to recall the cold way she’d behaved towards him and how she’d rebuffed his attempts to mend things.
“You are indeed my wife now,” he said in a voice which must have sounded high and angry. “And, aye, as my wife it is your duty to be by my side!”
“What of yours?” Judith countered.
He frowned at her, not understanding what she meant. Certainly, he had his own duties towards her just as she had hers towards him. Why was she bringing this up now as if he’d done a grievous thing? He had already begged her forgiveness for how he’d behaved, and it now seemed to him she was making far too much of his mistake. They were married after all. And he had not pressed her to share his bed, although, he knew only too well, most men of his acquaintance would not have cared to behave as courteously as he had.
He sighed, because, in truth, those men he thought about were the very same men, who, as boys, had called his friend Bertran a bastard and Tristram himself a weakling. And he should never strive to compare himself to them.
“What is it that you wish from me?” he asked his wife in plain weariness. “I do not understand you. I do not know what you expect me to say or do. We’re married now. You seemed to like being by my side before. And now you shun me. We have a life ahead to share. It seems to me we should be able to speak plainly.”
Judith looked at him and opened her mouth to speak, yet she then shook her head. Soon a look of longing and regret appeared upon her face. She sighed with a rueful smile and touched his shoulder gently.
“Forgive me. I-it’s silly. We’ve been so long apart. I thought… Oh, never mind what I thought! I suppose I was afraid you’d downright forgotten me. While I-I thought only of you!”
Her voice was just as sweet as he recalled it, and his heart thumped fiercely in his chest. He kissed her tenderly, mindful of not being as ardent as he’d been with her before, but soon coming to understand Judith was not averse to being touched more ardently. She pressed herself against him in undisguised passion, and Tristram came to understand she had not deceived him and that it hadn’t been his eager caresses which had made her upset.
“I also thought of you!” he told her, loath to break the kiss. “We’re in agreement then. So why was it we argued?”
Judith heaved a deep sigh, pressing herself even more tightly against him, and causing Tristram to hardly wait for the time to seek their bedchamber.
“I wasn’t behaving like a good wife should. You’re right. I should join you at Devensey. But Tristram, my mother may not ever be able to leave Redmore! Besides, it’s always been my home. That was why I spoke to you so sharply. It’s hard for me to envisage myself in another home. Yet you are right. We’re married now, and my place is by your side.”
“Rest assured, I shall never ask you to part from your mother!” Tristram hurried to say. “As for Redmore…”
He held Judith tight against him, recalling all the stories she’d told him of her home in the first days of their marriage. Beautiful stories, which had seemed like fairy tales to him. The way Judith had always spoken of Redmore, it seemed she loved it deeply, perchance even more deeply than he loved Devensey.
“Perhaps,” he said, now fully brightening, “we might also find ourselves in agreement upon this. You needn’t leave your beloved home for all times. What if we both spent every other year at Redmore and every other year at Devensey? Both are fine demesnes, and perchance things would be better because we’d get to properly oversee both homes in turn.”
Judith beamed at him, and she suddenly looked so relieved that he felt the need to caution her, “Have a care though. While I am needed at Court or on the battlefield, it will come only upon you to bear the burden of both our homes. Still, I hope in time things would be less tempestuous at Henry’s court. I am weary of it and do not seek vain glory on the battlefield.”
“Henry’s still feuding against his queen and sons?” Judith asked with a sudden frown.
“Or better say, Queen Eleanor and her sons are still feuding against Henry,” Tristram countered with a frown of his own, because he’d always been loyal to Henry.
“Yet Eleanor is a far greater ruler than her husband!” Judith said quite pointedly.
He stared at her, stunned.
“You truly believe so? With a king like Henry?”
“But Henry had the great Thomas Becket murdered!”
“Yet the great Thomas Becket was quite mad and would have brought the downfall of our country. He sought to enslave all of us to the Church!” Tristram countered, not caring his words might seem blasphemous.
Judith widened her eyes at him.
“T’was murder though! Don’t tell me you condone it?”
Tristram heaved a deep sigh.
“Nay, not at all. Yet Becket was not the man you think he was. He was vain and had greed and ambition of his own.”
“Why, so does Henry!”
“And so does Eleanor!”
Tristram started scowling at his wife, who decidedly was not the biddable, sweet woman he’d thought her at first, then suddenly paused with a smile and a shake of his head.
“We’re arguing again, I see,” he muttered, understanding that, after all, it did take two to argue.
Judith shrugged and cast him a brilliant smile, taking his hand
“I imagine we’ll often get to argue. Didn’t you say we had a life ahead of us?”
She didn’t seem in the least concerned they didn’t share the same way of thinking, and Tristram decided not to feel too concerned either. His wife was right, and he expected they would not always find themselves in agreement. He didn’t wish for a wife who minded him just because she was afraid to speak her mind. And he understood it was a relief that Judith now felt able to do so, and not to always feel compelled to agree with whatever he said, as she’d done in the first days of their acquaintance.
“Come,” Judith called to him cheerfully. “My chores for the day can wait. Let me show you why I love Redmore!”
She now looked carefree and happy, and the worry lines he’d perceived upon her face before seemed to have disappeared. He followed where she led with a smile, eagerly thinking of the time when she got to become his wife in every way.
As she was leadingTristram to show him the places she loved, Judith told herself she should strive to dwell only upon the happiness of being with her husband. The rest did not matter - whether he’d broken faith with her or not. Yet she was more and more willing to believe that Tristram had not done so, because his eyes had been warm and unflinching upon her when he’d told her he’d thought of her. And even if he had broken faith with her, she did not mean to hold that against him. They had been apart for too long. But he was here now, and she meant to be a good and true wife to him. Surely, he would not think upon another woman if she strived to be the best of wives to him, even if he was so beautiful and clever while she was only plain and ordinary.
They kissed and talked and spent a day Judith knew she would always treasure. Upon their way home there was much more kissing, and Judith loved Tristram’s sinfully beautiful lips upon her own, and how his hard and heated body felt against hers. It seemed at first he was more restrained than she in their caresses, and she began to feel she was too eager and too wanton. But soon, she simply forgot herself in his arms and all her shyness melted, and Tristram’s kisses became deeper and his caresses more ardent.
“Well, wife mine,” he said at last with a smile, tracing the imprint of his kisses on her reddened lips with one hand and the curve of her cheek with another. “I think at last I’ll have my heart’s desire of doing much more than just sleeping chastely by your side.”
She blushed, but she met his eyes levelly. It did not feel shameful at all to want him so much. And he didn’t seem displeased with her eagerness. Rather he seemed to rejoice in it, and this was setting her at ease.
“Wait for me, husband!” she told him, deciding to be bold and brushing a quick kiss upon his lips in front of the door of the bedchamber. “I only need to say goodnight to Mother. But I promise I won’t tarry!”
He heaved a sigh, but let her go, saying he’d use this time to bathe, and casting her a mischievous grin when he added he might be already naked next time she glanced upon him. Judith nodded with a wide smile of her own, because she fully remembered Tristram looked even more beautiful than usual with no garments upon his body.
She was still smiling when she went to see her mother and make sure Lady Fenice was not feeling poorly and didn’t need her at this time. Her mother did not seem to be in ill health, but soon Judith came to see she was casting worried glances. Judith became aware her own cheeks were flushed and her lips must look red and swollen from so much kissing. Tristram had uncovered and unplaited her hair as he was kissing her to bury his hands in its mass, and now she began to pat it self-consciously.
“So,” Lady Fenice said softly.
Her mother attempted to smile, but Judith saw the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She hurried to reassure her, “Tristram… He… he is my husband,” she found herself muttering softly, not knowing what to say to make her mother see all was well and that she was happy to spend her time in Tristram’s arms.
“Certainly. It is as it should be. He seems a worthy man,” her mother muttered.
And Judith recalled only too well her mother had spoken of all those women Tristram might have dallied with in London, but she attempted to push the disturbing thought away from her.
“All is well!” she told Lady Fenice in a steady voice.
“Aye,” Lady Fenice acquiesced, but her voice sounded doubtful.
Presently, her mother heaved a small sigh and clasped Judith’s hand in hers.
“Have a care! You see, I fear he is one of those men who loves games. He does not mean to do ill things, yet it might be in his nature to toy with ladies’ affections, used as he is that every woman he meets should fall at his feet. He’s handsome, witty, well-born and skilful. And he knows it only too well. Life seems like an effortless, diverting game to him, and when one sees life as a game, it’s easy to see others just as playthings.”
Judith shook her head, attempting to tell her mother she didn’t know Tristram as Judith herself now did, but Lady Fenice didn’t let her speak.
“Perchance I’m wrong. Yet have a care. It seems to me he likes to play games, that one. He’ll toy with you because this is how men of his sort are. And I do not want to see your heart broken and trampled upon.”
“But you are wrong. This is not Tristram!” Judith countered impassionedly.
