Lord Tristram’s Love Match by R.R. Vane
Chapter 17
At dawn, when Judith went in search of Tristram, she found him already in the stables, seeing to his horse. He wore a look of grim preoccupation on his face, and at first she thought he was still cross with her for the way she’d behaved last night. He spoke urgently when he caught sight of her. “There’s need of me as soon as can be. King Henry summons me. The journey will be long and I mustn’t tarry. Trouble and strife are ahead – I cannot shirk from it though.”
He looked grim, yet resigned he must go when his liege called, and Judith knew at once it was a summons he could not ignore. So she assisted him with hasty travel preparations, knowing this was not the time to speak of the troubles which plagued her. When it was time for him to leave, Tristram sighed deeply, frowning upon her, and brushing a quick kiss upon her cheek.
“I gave you a reprieve last night, my lady. But this has to end. I’ll make you my wife in truth when next we meet,” he spoke.
His tone was one of terse command, and somewhat unlike the gentle, courteous Tristram she’d come to know, but she could understand why he was behaving thus. He had grim, urgent business ahead of him and little time to tarry.
“You’ll see there’s naught to fear! I’ll show you. When you come to me, we shall be together!” he added in the same decisive voice which left no room for argument.
“Come to you?” she asked, not understanding.
Tristram nodded.
“After my business here in England is done, Henry has ordered me to go to France. To Poitiers and Queen Eleanor’s Court of Love. He has a message for his royal wife which cannot tarry, and I’m the one he has appointed to deliver it.”
“France?”
“Aye,” Tristram nodded. “This time, I won’t be parted from you. I’d like you to come with me. It’s not an arduous journey, and I daresay you’ll come to like Eleanor’s Court of Love.”
Certainly, everyone knew that in Poitiers Queen Eleanor had surrounded herself with the worthiest troubadours in the world. It was the place where the most wondrous songs and tales were wrought, and Judith had always longed to see it. Yet the excruciating, maddening jealousy and mistrust returned in full force. Besides, Tristram was commanding her to go with him when he knew too well she could not leave her mother.
As if he’d read her thoughts upon her mother, Tristram told her, in the same firm voice which held perfect assurance, “I’ve spoken to Lady Fenice in these past days. She has confessed to me she has felt better in the last months, and she has told me herself she does not need you by her side at all times. Besides, Dame Berthe is here and she will take good care of your mother while we’re away.”
“Tristram, I–”
Tristram shushed her with a light kiss on her lips.
“It’s best this way. You will soon learn to see it is a wise course to take. You’ll leave behind your childhood home for a while, only to return to it. So that you can come back a woman.”
Judith widened her eyes at him, understanding he still chafed because she’d rebuffed him last night, and still thought her a child for acting the way she had. Was it because he still thought her a child that he thought he could lie to her and toy with her affections? Or perchance she was truly acting like a child and her fears were silly and ill-founded.
He bowed and kissed her hand, without delay, telling her time was growing late already and that he shouldn’t linger, yet adding with a determined sparkle in his beautiful eyes, “I will have you vow you’ll come to me when I summon. I am done waiting and I need you by my side.”
His voice was commanding, but his eyes were warm, just as warm as they’d been when he’d told her he loved her.
“I…”
“Promise me, Judith!”
And Judith, who already knew she could never refuse anything in this world to Tristram, found herself nodding under his compelling stare.
“Aye, husband. I vow.”
“Good. I shall soon call for you,” Tristram said with a warm smile, which nearly made her melt, as he was mounting his horse.
Later, Judith watched upon Tristram and his men riding away from Redmore, and had a deep heart-breaking feeling in her chest that perchance he would never return and that they might never see each other again. She laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head, and knowing her fears were silly. Tristram had actually commanded she’d join him soon, and she had been too swept away by the spell he worked on her to tell him nay.
“He’s asked me to go to France with him. To the Queen’s Court in Poitiers,” she told her mother later, as they were having a meal in Lady Fenice’s chambers.
“It’s well then,” Lady Fenice answered. “France is such a beautiful place. Compared to it, England is ugly and dismal. Certainly, you should go and do just as your husband commanded.”
Judith sighed, not liking to recall that Tristram had spoken to her in a forceful voice, and that he’d not allowed her to argue with him. So far he’d never behaved thus to her, but she supposed she herself was to blame for it, for pushing him away as she had. She tried to reason it so. However, the excruciating pain in her heart over what she’d perceived in his garment chest returned in full force. Right after he’d left, she’d searched for the kerchief in some of the belongings he’d left at Redmore, and had soon found he’d taken it with him, together with the rosary and the pressed flower. It was plain these things had great value for him.
“If you’re with him, he is less bound to stray. Though you need to have a care. I know you, daughter, and you’ve already given him your heart. Make certain he doesn’t get to trample upon it, just as your father trampled upon mine!”
Judith opened her mouth to protest that the Tristram she knew would never do something like this. Yet did she know the true Tristram? In her eyes Tristram was simply flawless – the man of her dreams, and it seemed as if she’d conjured him up. She already loved him so madly that she was blind as far he was concerned. Perchance her mother was able to see the truth when she wasn’t.
“Mother, I’ve given him my heart already. Besides, we’re bound. He is my husband. What is done cannot be undone!”
Lady Fenice sighed, then cast her daughter an uncertain glance.
“Last night, you didn’t bed…” she spoke.
Judith blushed scarlet, and shook her head. Her mother had always been able to tell such things of her.
“Well then,” Lady Fenice said, speaking in a soothing voice. “Perchance…You see, a marriage can be annulled if the bride and groom haven’t bedded. I’ve seen it done. You’re not his wife in truth yet.”
Judith widened her eyes. What was her mother saying? But she had given her pledge to Tristram! Besides, she loved him as she hadn’t loved anyone in this world. Even if he only meant to be cruel and toy with her, she could never give him up.
“Nay! I will not break my pledge to him. Besides, I’ve vowed to do as he asks. I’ve never broken a vow.”
“Certainly, my sweet. I understand, and I will not speak of it again,” her mother said in a soothing voice. “I understand you want to keep a vow you made to your husband. It is an unfair world we live in though. They call us women, fickle, although we keep our vows. Yet men – they break their wedding vows and other vows to us all the time.”
Judith stared away from her mother. Now that Tristram was gone and she was no longer under the spell of his beauty and of his compelling voice, it seemed to her that her mother had the right of it. She now felt certain Tristram had broken his wedding vows. And it hurt too much to think upon him loving another, because she loved him far too much. She loved him so much it was unseemly. It was torture to love him, and now know he could never love her in return. It was excruciating martyrdom to know he’d lied to her – a lie so beautiful she simply wanted to believe it in spite of it being just a lie. He’d spoken to her of love, but it was plainly all a game to him, because Tristram was in truth a man who loved games. She buried her face in her hands, beginning to wonder whether it would not be best to try to sever the bond she had with him. This way, she would never feel this excruciating pain and doubt. This way, she would be free of him and of the strange power he already wielded over her.
Tristram descendedthe stairs of his London home skipping the steps as he went. Today was the day when Judith would arrive, and in a few days’ time they would board a ship to go to France on his mission for the king. And Judith would go with him, reluctant as she’d been to leave her home and her mother for a while. Yet, as reluctant Judith may be to leave, Tristram remembered clearly she’d told him she’d always dreamt of visiting Eleanor’s Love Court in Poitiers. And no wonder. Judith made songs which were as good as those of the best troubadours in this world. In truth, she was already a troubadour, although she was too modest to ever call herself so, and Tristram wished for her to visit this court, and meet with those who could duly praise her verse. He already knew she would feel encouraged by the praise, and once she felt happy and secure, she would let go of the strange fears which prevented her from being his wife in every way.
He descended the stairs with a smile, already hardly waiting to glance upon Judith, but his eyes did not fall upon his wife, but upon a flustered man who was extending a sealed letter towards him.
“My lord,” the man bowed hastily.
Tristram’s heart already began to thump in fear. Had something happened to Judith? Or had her mother been taken ill? He didn’t tarry to take the letter and he saw with relief it bore Judith’s seal. At least she was safe and sound, and nothing unforeseen had befallen her on her journey here. He recognized her penmanship at once and, unlike all other Judith’s letters, this was quite short.
My lord,
Pray forgive me. I cannot come to France with you and I cannot remain your wife. Being married to you now seems a fate worse than death. I have petitioned the Church for an annulment, since we were never in truth man and wife.
Your humble servant,
Judith of Redmore
Tristram stared at the words,beginning to tell himself it was all a bad dream, and shaking his head in sheer disbelief, as the words started dancing in front of his eyes. He spent hours just trying to make sense of what he’d read, torn between numbing grief and searing anger. Evening came, and so did his friend, Bertran FitzRolf who looked grim and troubled.
“You’ve heard then?” Bertran tossed out abruptly, glancing upon Tristram’s pale face and darkened eyes.
He didn’t ask for Tristram to answer.
“You need to prepare yourself for their scorn. They’re all laughing now, all of them gleeful!”
“Laughing?” Tristram asked numbly, unable to comprehend what his friend was saying.
“You haven’t heard then yet,” Bertran said with a deep sigh. “It is your wife. She asked for an annulment of your marriage. On grounds of non-consummation.”
Tristram had heard enough. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“What is she saying? That I have been unable to bed her?”
Bertran cast him a look filled with pity.
“The lady didn’t offer any details. She just wrote that you and she had been long parted and had not truly bedded and, as such, the marriage contract could be voided. Yet you know how malicious people are. Now they are savouring the news with zest. And some of them are saying she’s only lying, since you’ve been wed for nearly two years already. While others…”
“Oh, let me guess. Others are calling my manhood into question. They brand me a weakling just as they first did when we were knights-in-training,” Tristram tossed out, speaking savagely.
He rose to his feet with a grim expression on his face.
“My lady wife will certainly rue the day she did this! And she will rue the day she broke her pledge to me! Tomorrow, at first light, I shall be heading for Redmore!”
“You’re summoned before Henry on the morrow,” Bertran said with a grim shake of his head. “He wants to hear of it. And he’s already angry, saying he had never expected you would be unable to keep a wife and rule her. He would certainly ask you for the truth, in front of all to speak.”
Bertran cast Tristram an uncertain glance, now raking a hand through his thick brown hair.
“Tristram, what is the truth? I’ve known you for a long time. And you seemed so taken with your bride. What came to pass?”
“I do not know,” Tristram said, beginning to feel his temples pound hard with pain.
“You did bed her though, didn’t you?” Bertran asked cautiously.
Tristram laughed to himself, knowing he would have to speak the truth in Court and that tomorrow everyone would scorn him. And Henry would be furious with him, because, at this time, Henry knew that war with Eleanor was bound to break out at any time and none of his vassals should look so weak.
“I didn’t. And I cannot lie about it. They’ll make me swear an oath and I am not foresworn.”
Bertran sighed deeply.
“I do not understand why you acted as you did, but you must have had your reasons for not bedding your wife. Yet not everyone knows you as I do. They’ll scorn you and humiliate you for it!”
“I know only too well,” Tristram said bitterly.
At this time he grieved not so much for the deep humiliation he would bear, but for the way his wife had acted towards him. He had given her his heart and she had spurned and betrayed him. She’d broken not only her pledge to him, but also the vow he’d asked her to make to come with him to France. Would Henry still want him to deliver the message to Eleanor? At this time, Tristram found himself no longer wishing for it, although it would be even more shaming for him to have his mission taken away from him. What he wished was that he would be free to go to Redmore and make Judith take back every word she’d written in that hateful letter.
