The Secret (23 page)

He didn't go on. His pained expression told her he didn't want to expound on that point of Church law.

"Well then what?" she asked, determined to make him give her the full explanation.

"Isabelle will be condemned by the Church," Father Laggan whispered. "The babe as well."

Judith was so sickened by what she was hearing, she could barely think straight. And Lord, she was furious. It all made sense to her now. The midwives weren't out to get her, nay, they wanted Isabelle punished and were cleverly using the Church to accomplish their goal. It wasn't just a question of dented pride, either. It was far worse. Their position of power over the women in the clan had been shaken, and this condemnation by the Church would serve as a chilling message to the other expectant mothers.

Their vindictiveness was so appalling to Judith, she wanted to scream at them. Such behavior wouldn't help Isabelle, however, and for that reason alone she kept silent.

"You are familiar with the Church's ruling concerning the sins of Eve, aren't you, Lady Judith?" the priest asked.

"Yes, of course," she answered. It was a blatant lie, but Judith couldn't be bothered about that now. She wondered what other rules Maude had failed to mention to her, even as she struggled to hold on to what she hoped was a very serene expression.

The priest looked relieved. "I ask you now, Lady Judith, if you did anything last night to mitigate Isabelle's pain?"

"No, Father, I did not."

"Then Isabelle must have done something," Agnes shouted. "Or the Devil had a hand in this birthing."

One of the two men seated at the table started to stand. The look of fury on his leathered face was frightening.

Winslow took a step forward at the same time. "I will not allow such talk in my house," he bellowed.

The elderly man at the table nodded, obviously satisfied Winslow had spoken up, and then sat down again.

The infant let out a shrill cry of distress. Winslow was in such a rage he didn't seem to notice Isabelle was trying to take the baby put of his arms. He took another step toward the midwives.

"Get the hell out of my house," he ordered in another bellow.

"I don't like this any more than you do," Father Laggan announced. His voice was heavy with sadness.

"But it needs to be resolved."

Winslow was shaking his head. Judith walked over to him. She put her hand on his arm. "Winslow, if you will allow me to explain, I believe I can clear up this nonsense in quick time."

"Nonsense? You dare call this serious matter nonsense?"

Agnes asked that question. Judith refused to acknowledge her. She waited until she'd received Winslow's nod of agreement before turning back to the priest. Winslow walked back over to the side of the bed and gave his son to Isabelle. The infant was ready to be soothed back to sleep, and immediately quit crying.

Judith faced the priest again. "Isabelle was in terrible pain," she announced in a hard voice.

"We didn't hear her," Agnes called out.

Judith continued to ignore her. "Father, do you think to condemn Isabelle because she tried to be so courageous? She did scream, several times in fact, but not with every pain, because she didn't want to distress her husband. He was waiting right outside the door and she knew he could hear her. Even in her misery, she was thinking of him."

"Are we to take this Englishwoman's word on this?" Agnes challenged.

Judith turned to the group of relatives seated at the table. She addressed her next remarks to them. "I only met Isabelle yesterday, and I therefore admit to you that I don't know her very well. Yet I judged her to be an extremely sweet-tempered woman. Would you say that judgment was a fair evaluation?"

"Aye, it was," a dark-haired woman announced. She turned to glare at the midwives when she added,

"She's as kind and gentle as they come. We're blessed to have her in our family. She's God-fearing, too.

She wouldn't deliberately do anything to soften her pain."

"I also would agree Isabelle is a very gentle woman," the priest interjected.

"That doesn't have anything to do with this question," Agnes snapped. "The Devil—"

Judith deliberately interrupted when she addressed the group at the table again. "Would it also be fair to say Isabelle wouldn't deliberately hurt anyone? That her sweet disposition wouldn't allow such conduct?"

Everyone nodded. Judith turned back to Father Laggan. She removed the shawl from around her neck.

"Now I will ask you, Father, if you believe Isabelle suffered enough."

She lifted her hair back over her shoulders and tilted her head to one side so the priest could see the swelling and the marks on her neck.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Holy Mother of God, did our sweet Isabelle do this to you?"

"Yes," Judith answered. And thank God she did, she thought to herself. "Isabelle was in such agony during the birthing, she grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. I doubt she even remembers. I had to pry her fingers away, Father, and try to make her take hold of the handles on the birthing stool."

The priest stared at Judith a long minute. The relief in his gaze warmed her heart. He believed her.

"Isabelle suffered enough for her Church," the priest announced. "We'll have no more talk about this."

Agnes wasn't about to give up so easily. She hurried over with a linen cloth she'd pulled from the sleeve of her gown. "This could be trickery," she said in a near shout. She grabbed hold of Judith's arm and tried to wipe the marks away from her throat.

Judith winced against the pain. She didn't try to stop the torture, however, guessing that if she did, the woman would start the rumor she had used trickery, such as colored oils, to stain her skin.

"Get your hands off her."

Iain's roar filled the cottage. Agnes jumped at least a foot. She bumped into the priest; he jumped, too.

Judith was so happy to see Iain, tears filled her eyes. The urge to run to him fairly overwhelmed her.

He kept his gaze on her when he ducked under the overhang and walked inside. Brodick was right behind him. Both warriors looked fighting mad. Iain stopped when he was just a foot or two away from Judith. He slowly looked her over from head to feet to satisfy himself she hadn't been injured.

She was immensely thankful she'd been able to hold on to her composure. Iain would never know how upsetting this audience had turned out to be. Judith had already humiliated herself quite thoroughly last night when she had wept all over the man, and just looking at him in the light of day was embarrassment enough for her. She wasn't ever going to let him see such vulnerability again.

He thought she looked like she was about to weep. Her eyes were misty, and it was very apparent to him that she was struggling to maintain her dignity. Judith hadn't been physically injured, but her feelings had certainly been trod upon.

"Winslow?" Iain's voice was hard, furious.

Isabelle's husband took a step forward. He knew what his laird was asking and immediately gave his explanation of what had happened in a quick, concise manner. Winslow still hadn't gotten over his anger, either. His voice shook.

Iain put his hand on Judith's shoulder. He could feel her trembling. That notice made him even more furious. "Judith is a guest in my brother's home."

He waited until everyone inside the cottage had acknowledged that statement of fact, then added, "But she is also under my protection. If there is trouble, you will bring it to me. Is that understood?"

The rafters shook from the fury in his voice. Judith had never seen Iain this angry. It was a little overwhelming. Frightening, too. She tried to remind herself that he wasn't upset with her, that he was actually defending her, but logic didn't help much. The look in his eyes still made her shiver.

"Laird Iain, do you realize what you're implying?"

The priest whispered his question. Iain stared at Judith when he gave his abrupt answer. "I do."

"Hell," Brodick muttered.

Iain let go of Judith and turned around to confront his friend. "Do you want to challenge me?"

Brodick had to think the question over a long minute before shaking his head. "No. You have my support. God knows you're going to need it."

"You have my support as well," Winslow called out.

Iain nodded. The muscle in the side of his jaw quit flexing. Judith thought his friends' show of loyalty was calming his anger.

Why the man needed their support was beyond her understanding. In England, hospitality was offered by all the members of the family to a guest, but here it was obviously very different.

"The council?" Winslow asked.

"Soon," Iain answered.

A gasp came from behind Judith. She turned to look at the midwives. She was surprised to see Helen's expression. The woman seemed to be relieved about the outcome of the inquisition. She was trying hard not to smile. That notice didn't make any sense to Judith.

Agnes's expression didn't leave her guessing, however. Her eyes blazed with anger. Judith turned away from the woman. Father Laggan, she noticed, was watching her intently.

"Father, do you have any other questions to ask me?"

He shook his head. He smiled, too. Since no one was paying the two of them any attention now, she moved forward to ask the priest a question. Winslow, his brother Brodick, and Iain were in deep discussion, and the relatives at the table were all talking at once.

"Father, may I ask you something?" she whispered.

"Of course."

"If there hadn't been any bruises, would you have condemned Isabelle and her son?" Judith adjusted the shawl around her neck while she waited for his answer.

"No," he answered.

She felt better. She didn't want to think a man of the cloth would be so rigid. "Then you would have taken my word alone as proof enough, even though I'm an outsider here?"

"I would have found a way to support your claim, perhaps by calling on all of Isabelle's relatives to speak up on her behalf." He took hold of Judith's hand and patted her. "The bruises made my task much easier."

"Yes, they did," she agreed. "If you'll excuse me now, Father, I would like to leave."

She hurried outside as soon as he'd given her permission. It was probably rude of her to leave without saying good-bye to the others, especially their laird, but Judith couldn't stomach the idea of staying in the same room with Agnes a minute longer.

The crowd had more than doubled in size since she'd gone inside. Judith wasn't in the mood for their curiosity now. She held her head high as she made her way over to the tree where she had left her mount.

She wasn't in the mood for the stallion's skittish behavior, either, she gave the animal a good swat on his left flank to get him to settle down long enough for her to gain the saddle.

Judith was still too upset by the ordeal she'd just gone through to go directly back to Frances Catherine.

She needed to calm down first. She didn't have a destination in mind but goaded the stallion up the path toward the crest. She would ride until she'd gotten rid of her anger, no matter how long it took.

Father Laggan came outside Isabella's cottage a scant minute after Judith had left. He raised both hands into the air to gain the crowd's attention. His smile was wide. "It has all been resolved to my satisfaction,"

he called out. "Lady Judith cleared up the matter in quick time."

A loud cheer went up. The priest moved to the side of the stoop to allow Brodick to pass by. Iain and Winslow followed.

The gathering moved out of Brodick's way as he strode over to the trees where Judith had left his horse.

He had almost reached his destination before he realized his mount was gone.

Brodick had an incredulous look on his face when he whirled around. "By God, she's done it again," he roared to no one in particular. He couldn't seem to make sense out of the insult Judith had given him by taking his horse. The fact that the stallion actually belonged to Iain didn't make any difference, either.

"Lady Judith didn't steal your horse," Winslow called out. "She only borrowed it. Those were her words to me when she arrived here, and I imagine she still believes—"

Winslow couldn't go on. His laughter got in his way. Iain had more discipline. He didn't even smile. He gained his mount, then put his hand down to Brodick. The warrior was about to swing himself up behind his laird when Bryan, an older man with hunched shoulders and bright orange hair, took a step forward.

"The woman didn't steal your mount and you shouldn't be thinking she did, Brodick."

Brodick turned around to glare at the man. Then another soldier shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He took his position next to Bryan. "Aye, Lady Judith was probably just in a hurry," he said.

Yet another and another came forward to offer their reasons for Lady Judith taking the mount. Iain couldn't have been more pleased. The issue wasn't really the borrowing of the horse, of course. The men were letting it be known to their laird that Judith had won their support… and their hearts. She'd stood up for Isabelle and they were now standing up for her.

"She didn't have to help our Isabelle last night and she didn't have to come back here today to answer Father Laggan's questions," Bryan stated. "You won't be speaking ill of Lady Judith, Brodick, or you'll answer to me."

A stiff wind would have knocked Bryan over, so feeble was he in strength, yet he courageously challenged Brodick.

"Hell," Brodick muttered, his exasperation obvious.

Iain did smile then. He nodded to Judith's champions, waited until Brodick had swung up behind him, and then goaded his mount forward.

Iain assumed Judith would go directly back to his brother's home. The horse wasn't out front, however, and he couldn't imagine where she'd gone.

He stopped his mount so Brodick could drop to the ground. "She might have ridden back up to the keep," Iain remarked. "I'll look there first."

Brodick nodded. "I'll look down below," he said. He started to walk away, then suddenly turned around again. "I'm giving you fair warning, Iain. When I find her, I'm going to give her hell."