Toby tried to keep her quiet. “Mother, I have business to attend to. I shall return shortly, I promise. Hegeltha will see to your needs this morning.”
The old servant came back into the dank chamber and Judith eyed her. “I do not want that old witch near me. She bites.”
“Nay, she does not.”
“She does, I tell you!”
Toby’s patience was waning. “She does not bite you. She is kind to you and you would do well to appreciate her.” She turned away from her mother, looking at the serving woman. “Clean her up as best you can. See that she takes some nourishment this morning.”
The woman nodded. Judith extended her good hand to her daughter. “Please,” she rasped. “Please do not leave me.”
Toby paused to look at her mother. The woman was pathetic, but still, Toby could not summon the emotion to feel pity for her. That had been taken advantage of long ago.
“I must. I shall see you when I return.”
“Nay, please.Please!”
Judith’s hand was reaching out for her, begging for contact. Against her better judgment, Toby took the outstretched fingers and was rewarded by Judith digging her jagged fingernails into her flesh.
“Do not leave me!” she hissed.
The nails drew blood immediately. Toby yanked her hand free, examining the four crescent-shaped wounds on her wrist. Judith began to twitch and cry, as close as she could come to a tantrum, as swiftly Toby vacated the room. Shutting the door to the chamber behind her so that her mother would not wake thehouse, she re-examined the bloody cuts in her soft flesh. They were swelling already and they were painful. Wincing, she pulled on the glove for that hand so that no one would see what her mother had done. To Toby, her mother’s abuse was normal, but she was ashamed to let anyone else see her misery.
Toby had left orders the night before to have her horse and a light meal ready before daybreak. The meal was waiting as she descended the stairs and entered the great hall. A fire had been started, but the room was still very chilly and smelled of old rushes. She found Tate and his party milling about the room, having already eaten some of the food laid upon the well-scrubbed table. The squire was huddled near the fire while the knights, heavily dressed and armed, stood off in the darkness. Toby heard their low voices, ceasing altogether as she entered.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found Tate. He was standing with Stephen near the hearth, his large physique outlined by the backdrop of the blaze.
“Good morn to you, my lord,” she said.
He dipped his head in response to her greeting. “We are ready to depart, mistress.”
It was a rather clipped greeting but she didn’t care. Much to her horror, she realized that she was glad to see him. She had no idea why. It was a terrible realization and she struggled to shake off the unfamiliar feelings.
“I am ready,” she said. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“We did,” he said. “Perhaps you should take something with you.”
She took a small wedge of cheese, trying to delicately shove it into her mouth as they vacated the hall and moved out into the misty morning. Everything was soaking wet, including the horses. A couple of the dogs came sniffing around, recognizing her as she mounted her leggy warmblood. They yipped at the knights but kept a distance, especially when Tate threw a well-aimed rock at one of them. When the party moved out, they followed.
The group took the road to the northwest. The field where the herd grazed was three miles out of town. It was cold and sodden and silent but for the noise from the horses as they made their way along the rocky path. Toby was slightly in front of the rest of them, trying to keep her mind from wandering to Tate. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was watching her. She fidgeted with her reins; anything to keep from looking back at him.
“Do you ever have trouble from raiders?”
Tate’s voice came from slightly behind her. Startled, she glanced over to see that he had reined his horse close to her. He seemed to have a habit of sneaking up on her. She had been concentrating so hard on ignoring him that she hadn’t heard the obvious.
“Sometimes,” she replied. “Mostly border Scots who come to steal our sheep. Father had a long-running problem with the Elliot clan near Jedburgh but he solved that by donating ten head of sheep to them every fall. They have a sizable herd now.”
Tate nodded in understanding, his gaze moving off across the land. Instead of lightening with the rising of the sun, it seemed that everything was growing darker.
“I will apologize for forcing you to endure this weather,” he said. “Hopefully this will not take long and you can return to a warm fire.”
She shook her head. “I love this weather.”
He cast her a long glance. “Why is that?”
“Because there is peace to it. It is soothing. Sometimes with the sun there is such bustle and chaos. Everyone is out and about. With the fog and rain, no one is out. It is quiet and soft.”
“Is your life so harrowed that you find bad weather comforting?”
