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.It must be the enforced inactivity that was affecting her.The window beckoned and Judith jumped up and strode across to it.A seagull swooped high above a shining sea.Envying the bird its freedom, Judith curled up on the window-seat to watch the arcs and curves of its flight through the warming air.She would learn to wait.She must pretend to be a slave woman now.Some minutes later she heard a movement behind her.She swung round.It was Zoe.Behind her a young boy padded in holding a tray laden with fruit and stoppered glass bottles.Zoe waved him to the table.The boy wore earrings—gold pendants which swung as he moved.He cleared the debris of the meal Judith had shared with Rannulf, and left the room as silently as a wraith.Zoe’s smile was knowing.“You decided to be sensible, Judith.I am glad for your sake.”“I beg your pardon?”“Your patron.He was very pleased with you.He wishes to be with you again tonight.”Judith shut her eyes to conceal her relief.“Aye,” she whispered.“Thank God.” She cleared her throat.She must sound more confident, she was unconvincing even to her own ears.But Zoe had noticed nothing amiss.“Eat.” The bracelets jingled in the direction of the fruit.“You must be hungry after your…exercise.”Judith gritted her teeth.She hated that sly smile.It made Zoe’s face ripe for slapping.Zoe headed for the door.“When you’ve eaten, come to the bathhouse.There is more you must know.”“More?”Zoe smiled.Judith’s palm itched.“You don’t want a baby, do you, Judith?” Zoe asked softly.Judith’s jaw dropped.Zoe ignored her reaction.“I will explain how you can avoid it.And in return…”“Aye?”“In return you can tell me some of your secrets,” Zoe sniggered “They are obviously worth knowing.”“Secrets? What do you mean?”“Don’t be coy.What you know will be invaluable to this house.Balduk has often wondered how to attract the Frankish crusaders.They don’t normally patronise this house.But with you to teach us their…preferences, that could all change.”Judith knew the disgust she felt must be plastered all over her face.But she must not arouse Zoe’s suspicions.She affected calmness and reached for some fruit.“What are those called again, Zoe?” she asked.“Oranges.” Zoe lowered her voice.“With Jerusalem won, many Frankish knights will be travelling home via Cyprus.Balduk wishes to make the most of it.With your guidance we can all learn how to please men like your Norman knight.”Judith’s hand froze over the fruit-bowl.“N…Norman knight? What on earth do you mean?” Her ears must be deceiving her.“Your recent…er…friend,” Zoe said, happily oblivious to the effect of her words.“He may have thought he was disguising himself by wearing those robes, but he didn’t convince Balduk.Balduk knows a Norman when he sees one.”“But he’s not Norman! He’s Saxon, and he’s certainly no knight!” Judith exclaimed.“What does Balduk know about the differences between Saxon and Norman?”“He knew you for a Saxon,” Zoe pointed out, unconcerned.She spread her hands.Her palms were richly decorated with henna.“Besides, the man spoke French.Judith, it matters little to Balduk whether he’s a Norman or a Saxon—they’re all Franks to us.And if you appeal to their barbaric tastes, that is good enough.” Zoe’s pretty face held an expression of boredom which she did not trouble to hide.“But it matters to me! It matters very much!” Judith cried.She spoke to an empty room.Her mind reeled.She did not believe it, would not believe it…She dragged in a breath.She could smell Zoe’s heavy, cloying perfume.She looked at the tray of food.Both proofs that Zoe had been there.Proof that Judith had not dreamed it.Rannulf—a Norman? It was not possible.There was no trace of an accent in his voice.She brought the image of him to her mind, and examined it.It did not fit.It felt like a lie.Had Rannulf lied to her? He had always maintained he was Saxon.Or had he?Judith rubbed her temples.Now she came to think, she could not recall him actually saying it.Rannulf’s tale of bearding Baron Hugo had baffled her, but she’d not thought…Rannulf had implied he was Saxon.He must have.He had made no attempt to prevent her ranting on about how she loathed the Norman race.She felt utterly sick.Rannulf’s familiar image faded from her mind.It re-emerged almost at once.She hardly recognised him.But the coldness gathering in her heart told her it was a true image.Rannulf had not lied.He had not claimed to be Saxon.Back in the Chase, she had assumed…Her father’s murder had closed her mind to anything else…And here, in this gilded prison, she’d allowed her old assumption to blind her to the truth.Judith’s fingers closed round a plump bunch of grapes in a dish.“He must be Saxon!” she screamed and hurled the fruit at the wall.The grapes made a satisfying splat as they hit the painted plaster and dropped on to the tiles.Wine-dark juice dribbled down the walls and puddled on the cold marble.A furious storm raged round Judith’s head.“Zoe’s wrong! Balduk has made a mistake.I learned to speak French, and that does not make me Norman.Rannulf is not Norman either.He couldn’t be, he couldn’t…”Chapter Three“Judith, for the sake of whichever saint you Saxons pray to, do stop prowling! You make me dizzy.You’re like one of the lions in the Emperor’s menagerie,” Zoe murmured.Even when complaining, Zoe’s voice still held a soft, musical quality.“I’m in a cage,” Judith snapped churlishly.“What else can I do, but prowl?” She took another restless turn about the chamber.“You’ll wear out your slippers,” Zoe warned, and popped a date into her mouth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]