Lord Tristram’s Love Match by R.R. Vane
Chapter 8
Judith left her new husband with regret in her heart, knowing a part of her would have liked nothing better than to have him hold her in his arms and make her his true wife. She however resolved he was right in not pressing her and in prolonging their courtship. There was another part of her which was shy and skittish, yet not of him, but rather because she was afraid she would show him from the start how utterly besotted and at his mercy she really was. She fancied this beautiful man far too much, and perchance he would not like her behaving like a lovesick fool, but as a restrained, dignified wife. So perchance it was wiser to prolong their courtship, just as Tristram wanted.
When Judith came to Redmore to look upon her mother, Lady Fenice looked pale and forlorn, although she tried to smile brightly as she cast her eyes upon her daughter. Yet Judith saw at once that something was amiss.
“Oh Mother, I missed you so!” she said, kissing her mother’s cheek.
She suddenly felt guilty for the joyous news she wished to share with her mother. And she felt guilty that Sir Edward had decided upon this match without having the courtesy to ask for his wife’s advice. Judith had tried to speak to her father upon this, but he had been set in arranging a hasty marriage for her, proclaiming he knew what was best for his daughter. Suddenly, Judith’s genuine happiness over her match seemed out of place in her mother’s chambers. Yet, as always, her mother soon inquired after her, and Judith found herself speaking of her new husband, or at least attempting to do so.
“My lord Tristram… He is…”
Judith stopped herself with a short, strained laugh. She’d meant to say Lord Tristram de Brunne was simply wondrous, but now, seeing her mother’s keen eyes upon her, she came to understand the word was childish and silly.
“He is a good, worthy man,” she said instead. “And I can see he means to be a kind, courteous husband to me. In truth I couldn’t be…”
Again, a silly word came into her head. She’d meant to tell her mother she couldn’t have been happier, but surely, her mother had always warned her not to be shallow about this world and its perils. Happiness was hard to come by, her mother had always told her.
“You are happy in this match your father made for you,” her mother suddenly told her with a smile, embracing her warmly, and Judith felt relieved and grateful for her words.
“Aye! I-I know I may be fanciful, but I truly think Lord Tristram and I… that we can have a happy marriage. I just can’t wait for him to meet you! He promised he’d come as soon as he was able to visit. And you’ll see he is indeed a worthy man.”
“I am certain he is,” her mother nodded with a smile, but Judith could catch a hint of distress in her voice.
It was natural for her mother to worry on her behalf, and Judith prayed Tristram would get here soon. Once her mother got to know him, she would certainly see what Judith already saw, that her daughter could not have wished for a better husband. So Judith hoped fervently Tristram would come as soon as could be, but the weeks turned into months and still Tristram wouldn’t come. He sent word to her often. At first it was tedious business at King Henry’s court which kept him away.
“I am certain he will get here eventually,” her mother told her with an encouraging smile whenever she caught Judith glancing despondently through the window instead of focusing on the tapestry she’d been embroidering.
But Judith caught a note of distress in her mother’s voice, and she felt wary of it. She wrote to Tristram urging him to try to do away with the tedious business which kept him from her. Yet the reply she received was disheartening.
“Tristram’s mother has fallen ill with a fever,” Judith said in anguish coming upon her mother one evening, after she’d received the letter the messenger had brought her.
She felt worried for Lady Aelis, Tristram’s mother, who had been most kind and courteous to her upon her marriage to her son.
“Don’t you think it would be better to seek London in order to aid Lady Aelis in her hour of need?” she said, thinking Tristram and his mother may need her at this time.
“Has your husband asked for your aid?” her mother inquired.
Judith perused the letter once more. Tristram was worried for his mother’s health and thought it more prudent to be by her side in this hour of need, but he was not asking for Judith to come and help him care for her.
“He has two sisters, doesn’t he, your husband?” her mother went on.
Judith nodded. One of Tristram’s sisters was at this time also by their mother’s side and this was perchance why Tristram didn’t feel the need to call upon his wife’s assistance. And Tristram had already written that his other sister was coming from her demesne to look upon their mother.
“I’m sure then that Lady Aelis’ daughters will provide the best care. And, after all, you are as yet untrained and untutored in both the healing arts and household matters,” Lady Fenice added.
Judith nodded, with a slight blush. Her mother was right. Here, Lady Fenice’s trusted companion, the redoubtable Dame Berthe, held the reins of their household under her mother’s very distant supervision. Judith had sought to aid in this ever since she’d grown older, but Lady Fenice had assured her there was plenty of time ahead of her to learn. Instead, her mother had trained her in the gentler arts ladies should master, so Judith was a fine weaver and embroiderer. Yet it was not in these arts that her talent truly lay. She was indeed an accomplished lute player and her singing voice was very fine. She could read and write Occitan and Norman and English and even understand Latin when required of her. She well recalled Tristram had spoken to her of his own home which lay in the vicinity of Winchester, where he hoped they would settle once she felt ready. She would soon need to learn the required accomplishments of tending a household.
As if she’d guessed her daughter’s thoughts, Lady Fenice nodded as she spoke, “There’s time enough to train you to become mistress of your own demesne. Since I suppose your husband will one day command you to leave your childhood home.”
Judith nearly flinched at the word command, because she was already having a hard time thinking she would ever have to leave Redmore. She loved her home and it was painful to picture her life in a different place.
“Tristram – he hasn’t pressed me for it. He understood I needed to be here by your side. Just as he now needs to be by his mother’s side. You do not think I should go to him?”
“He hasn’t sent for you. But I am sure he will be glad to see you if you think you must join him,” her mother told her, and Judith saw again she was trying to put on an encouraging smile.
In spite of this reassurance, her mother’s face was an open book to Judith, and she began to fear that Lady Fenice, who was at present feeling poorly yet again, could not spare her at this time.
“I shall write to Tristram and tell him we’ll send prayers for his mother’s swift recovery!”
And she did write to Tristram, hoping Lady Aelis would soon feel better and that the fever was only a passing ailment. Yet a month later, dire news reached them, that God had seen fit to take the lady Aelis from among the living. Tristram’s letter held bleak news and a warning. The same fever which had claimed his mother’s life had swept several households in the city of London, and it was not wise for Judith to try to join him there at this time.
“How wretched he must feel to have his dear mother gone!” Judith said with a deep sigh. “Perchance, in spite of his warning, I should go to be with him. I am safe and sound and have never been ill in my life.”
Her mother shook her head though, reminding her that her husband’s words were wise. He had commanded she should stay at Redmore and it would be unwise to disobey him at this time. Still, Judith disliked the use of the word command just as much as she had the first time when her mother had used it to speak of Tristram. But she recalled she’d never heard true command in Tristram’s voice whenever he spoke to her. She paused to think upon the danger which awaited her in London. She feared less for herself than for the loved ones who now resided there.
“But Father is in London,” she whispered in anguish.
Her father was in London, just as Tristram was, to attend Court business, and she didn’t like the thought of both her husband and her father being in a place where sickness was beginning to spread. Nevertheless she needn’t be told that King Henry’s commands were not to be ever disobeyed.
It was with an uneasy heart that Judith spent the next weeks, worrying over both her father and Tristram. Yet her mother was comforting whenever Judith spoke to her of these worries.
“Your husband’s young and hale. As for your father…”
Here Lady Fenice always glanced away from her daughter with a bitter twist of her mouth.
“Your father’s strong as an ox. Nothing can touch him,” she liked to add in a blank voice.
Yet not another month passed before more dire news reached them. The fever which had claimed the life of Tristram’s mother had also claimed Judith’s father. Judith stared at the unsealed letter from Tristram in disbelief mixed with searing pain.
“Father… So strong… Still in his prime,” she whispered, unwilling to keep tears at bay.
“May God have mercy upon his soul,” her mother said, her eyes dry. “He was a worthy man, in his own way.”
Judith nodded. She hadn’t known her father well, and hadn’t been too close to him, but upon his death she finally understood she had truly cared for him. Now that he was gone, she fully saw she would miss him very much, even if at times he had been harsh and uncaring in his ways. She stared at Tristram’s letter, trying to summon strength. Tristram warned it was unwise to join the city even now, and that he would make arrangements for a burial and a mass fit of Sir Edward’s birth and rank. Judith and her mother should be at peace that all the proper ways would be observed in this time of great need.
And Judith did her own part at Redmore to honour her father’s memory and work for the salvation of his soul. Mass was sung in Church, and a new chapel was commissioned, to remember her father by. Alms were given to the poor and money gifts to the servants, who, Judith understood, had loved their master well because they sincerely mourned his passing.
It was upon the third day of their mourning that Judith ventured to speak to her mother, knowing this shouldn’t be postponed, “Mother, I think perchance we should inquire of father’s…”
Judith was aware her mother didn’t ever like the words spoken in front of her. It was known to all that Judith’s father had kept a commoner in the village for his leman. And while Judith had never even spoken to this woman, she felt it was her duty to inquire about her, since her father was no longer among them. This woman had been under her father’s protection and it would be uncharitable of his family not to think of her. After all, many lords kept common women besides their wives, following the older Danish customs of times past, and Judith knew this well. Yet she also knew her mother had been deeply hurt by what her father had done. No matter what the old ways were and what many lords seemed to believe, it was utterly wrong for a husband to dishonour his wedding vows, Judith thought, and her father was certainly guilty of that sin. Nevertheless, things were what they were. This common woman had lain with her father, and her father’s bond to her could not be so easily dismissed.
“Your father’s woman, you mean,” Lady Fenice said in a hardened voice, straightening her back.
Judith nodded.
“I wouldn’t worry about that one,” her mother added, with a shrug and a bitter smile. “Women of her sort always manage.”
“Still,” Judith ventured. “I think it is only right she should receive assistance upon Father’s death.”
Her mother waved her hand carelessly, with a look of sheer disgust upon her face.
“Do whatever you wish. As long as you don’t set eyes upon her. I suppose we should show ourselves magnanimous. I would not have it said that people of our blood are ungracious to commoners, even to commoner harlots such as this one.”
Judith widened her eyes, because her gentle, soft-spoken mother never used coarse words and had always urged her to avoid such language. Her mother smiled ruefully, clasping Judith’s hand.
“I know, that was unkind of me to say, but it has always hurt so – the way your father chose to behave towards me. Well… may you never get to live what I have lived! Yet I expect you might one day. Most men are fickle.”
Her mother’s hand clasped hers firmly, and Judith thought of Tristram and of how apart he was from other men. For a moment she wanted to believe a man such as Tristram would never be fickle. She recalled though they’d been separated for many months, which had now nearly turned into a year. And they hadn’t even bedded. She was not as simple as to think a hale man of Tristram’s age didn’t have his own natural urges. And could she even blame him if he didn’t keep faith with her while they were parted? She knew most women of her station turned a blind eye to their husbands’ behaviour. Men have urges they cannot suppress, her aunt Edith had always said.
“Not Tristram!” Judith found herself suddenly whispering, although she knew it was silly of her to hope her husband would keep faith with a wife he hadn’t even bedded yet.
The way her mother looked at her nearly broke her heart.
“I’m sure you have the right of it, my sweet one,” Lady Fenice said, attempting to smile, but failing.
Judith tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. After all, Tristram and her had not yet shared their bodies, so she couldn’t hold anything of this sort against him. But why did it hurt so much to think upon him in another woman’s arms? Her mother had the right of it. The pain was fierce. Although she had at first wanted to look upon her father’s mistress, she decided not to do so and she only sent the gift of money she intended. It was with surprise that, a couple of days later, she found out the gift had been returned. It appeared her father’s mistress had no need of it.
Lady Fenice stared through her window, as if attempting to glance upon the village which lay beyond their castle.
“See, I did tell you, daughter, women of her sort always manage. One man or several can always be found to take care of their needs.”
Judith could understand her mother’s bitterness, because, for some days now, her own nights were filled not only with sad memories of her father, but also with frantic thoughts of Tristram in another woman’s arms. She missed him, and she wished he could come sooner, so they could start their life together and she could put her unseemly, jealous thoughts aside.
