Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,56

arm came forward, Jervis grasped his wrist in a vicelike grip.

"I appreciate your wish to protect the lady," he said. "But you should listen to me before you knock me unconscious, do you not think?"

Aaron wrenched his arm away. He stood beside Judith, glowering at Jervis, who smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment.

"Well," said Judith. "What is your story? The last time we met, you were in the company of Guy de Montfort. Now we find apparently that you have decided to

help those who are for the King."

"No sudden decision, lady," said Jervis. "I have always been on the side of the King. I spend an inordinate amount of time pretending to be that which I am not it is pleasant to undertake a task for which I need no disguise."

"But you were disguised, or concealing your identity, at least!" cried Judith.

"Would you have stepped so meekly into the boat, had you seen me at the oars?" said Jervis. "You know you would not. We should have wasted considerable time, trying to convince you of my allegiance, there on the riverbank. You would have known who I was as soon as we landed here, had not the wind decided to help out earlier."

He turned to the horses, still unconcernedly cropping grass, and bent to relieve them of their hobbles.

"Come, my lady," he said, straightening and handing reins to Judith. "If we are to reach our destination today, we must start now."

"Mount, Judith," said Aaron. "We have no choice but to trust him neither of us

knows the way to take."

"But how do we know that he is taking us back to Lewes?" said Judith, still standing firmly on the ground.

"You don’t," said Jervis. "As Aaron says, you will have to trust me. I can only assure you that we are going to Lewes, and I am taking you to Foville. Perhaps, when he greets me, you will believe that I am an ally and not an enemy."

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Belaset’s Daughter

He swung himself up and into the saddle of one of the horses, then waited while the other two followed suit. Turning the horses away from the river, they set off southwards.

Judith twisted in the saddle and looked back. The sun had risen, and she could see the great bulk of Westminster Abbey dominating the other side of the Thames. She looked the other way and saw St Paul’s. Two great monuments to a religion preaching brotherly love, sheltering the hatred of man for man.

They were now crossing part of the great marsh which lay on this side of the Thames, criss-crossed by smaller streams. Since neither she nor Aaron knew the safest route, they had no choice but to follow along in single file behind Jervis FitzHugh. He seemed to have some idea of the way, although the lightness of his touch upon the reins indicated that he was trusting his horse to make sure of safe footing, rather than trying to guide it himself.

The land stretched out on either side, almost as far as they could see. To the left, on the horizon, they could make out the huddled shapes of the houses of Southwark, and the shape of London Bridge. It was still misty, and the moisture in the air quickly beaded their clothes. The damp seemed to penetrate even through Judith’s fur-lined cloak, and she shivered, drawing it about her more closely. The silence was oppressive, and the awkwardness of their progress made any attempt at talking impossible. Their voices would carry, they knew, if they called to each other, but they could not hear if they whispered. They rode on in gloomy silence, and Judith, placed between the two men, found herself drifting into a daydream, lulled by the slow pace of the horses and the rhythmic sound of their hooves, muffled slightly by the reeds and mud through which they travelled.

Suddenly, Jervis’s horse stumbled, as its hoof plunged into a deeper hole. It began to flounder, and Jervis dug his heels into its sides, and turned its head, in an effort to free it.

Judith’s horse danced sideways in fear, and she pulled hard and desperately on the reins, to make it halt. The beast stopped after a few paces and stood, trembling, and tossing its head.

Behind her, she heard a gasping cry, and turned to see Jervis, his horse hopelessly trapped and being sucked down into the bog. The poor animal rolled its eyes, but made no sound. Jervis had freed his feet from the