Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,19

will come to you."

"I’m not concerned for my own safety, but for yours," answered Trubodi, with great dignity.

"I’m sorry, Trubodi I didn’t mean to imply that I doubted your bravery," said Guy.

"But I’m so tired my mind is working through a fog. Now go to my father, and the next time we meet, I’ll be myself again."

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Belaset’s Daughter

Trubodi bowed and left the stable. Remembering that he was supposed to be suffering from an excess of wine, he went to the well that stood in the yard, and leaned wearily on it. Then he hauled a bucket of water from it, and doused himself. Shuddering from the coldness of it, he made his way back into the hall, shambling a little, as though still feeling unwell.

As he entered, one of de Tourney’s men approached him.

"Sir Roger’s calling for you he’s still at the high table."

Trubodi grunted and made his way to the far end of the hall.

"If you can sit your horse without danger to it and yourself, you may go," said Sir Roger, looking him up and down in apparent disgust. "There is no message for your master, other than my thanks."

Trubodi made an attempt at a bow, then changed his mind and tugged his forelock instead. Then he turned and shambled away again. Behind him, one of the men with Sir Roger said something which was greeted with laughter.

Outside, Trubodi maintained his pose of drunken inability by mounting his horse with such vigour that he almost fell off the other side. Grinning sheepishly at the others in the yard, he trotted out. In the street beyond, he began to straighten up and, once clear of the area, he urged his horse into a swift gallop, as he headed out of Amiens and towards de Montfort’s encampment, carrying the news of Guy de Montfort’s safety.

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Belaset’s Daughter

CHAPTER FIVE

Judith’s horse stumbled under her and she started awake. How long had she been travelling along in a doze? She looked around, trying to recognise something in her surroundings. The horse had slowed to a walk, and plodded on, along the road. There was not much to see just ploughed fields on either side, with a light dusting of snow on each ridge and, sometimes, deeper snow in the furrows. The road itself was still, apparently, the rutted track along which she had been travelling for what seemed like hours.

It had been hours, she realised. The daylight was different now fading into early night.

She must find somewhere to stay. No-one risked travelling these roads at night, especially a woman alone, however well disguised. She stared about her again, anxiously looking for some sign of habitation. The horse ambled slowly up a slight incline and there, at last, on the other side, she could see the walls of a town, and the gate still open.

Urging the reluctant horse into a trot, she went down the slope, and slowed again to a walk as she neared the gate. Walking the horse forward, she waited for someone to challenge her, but no voice told her to stop. Her heart thumping, she rode under the arch, into the town itself.

There were a few people still going about their business. The street she rode along was obviously one of the main streets of the town, and soon she reached a market square. The shops on all four sides were still open, and she could see a woman standing in the doorway of one of them. She stopped the horse and dismounted, then leading it by the bridle, she walked slowly over the woman. She could see no-one else in the square to observe what she did next. Taking a chance, she flung back her hood, just before she reached the woman, who had been watching her nervously. The woman gave a cry of surprise, then stifled it with her hand across her mouth, as Judith raised a warning finger to her own lips. She spoke to the woman in an urgent whisper.

"I was travelling with an escort, but we were attacked as we crossed the river," she said.

"I must find somewhere to stay for the night. Will you help me?"

There was a silence, and Judith held her breath, praying that the woman would not be too frightened.

"If I can," came the answer, doubtfully. "But my husband’s so suspicious that he seldom allows strangers into the house. His work makes him so he is a goldsmith. Since you are a woman, and have suffered such an attack, he