Chapter Ten #2
Judith Angwedd’s eyes began to widen. “What are you doing?” she demanded, but it was false bravado. Sybilla could hear the tremble of her voice, could practically smell the woman’s sour dread.
“Stay away from me!” Judith Angwedd warned hollowly, and stumbled backward, her flight halted by the table behind her.
Sybilla’s hand shot out and she struck the woman across the face before she had even come fully before her, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
Judith Angwedd’s head snapped to the side.
The woman had barely brought her face forward when Sybilla struck her again, and this time, Judith Angwedd cried out and tumbled down the side of the table to fall to the stones on her hip.
The woman’s hand came to her face, and when she looked up, Sybilla was darkly pleased to see the tears in her wide, frightened eyes, and the small trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.
“You will remember in whose hall you stand, and to whom you speak.” Inside, Sybilla was shaking with rage, and only keeping herself from falling upon Judith Angwedd and beating the life from her by the tiniest shred of self-control.
Outwardly though, her voice was calm, cold, and threaded with iron.
Let there be no doubt in Judith Angwedd’s mind who ruled here, and what her disrespect would reap her.
“Should you ever again think to speak ill of my mother, Judith Angwedd Mallory—even to yourself—hear this: I will know. I will know, and I will hunt you, and I will wring the breath from your body with my own hands.”
The fat curls around the woman’s face danced. “You can’t threaten me like that,” she whispered, her face a mask of horrified disbelief, her hand still cradling the side of her face.
Sybilla smiled briefly, and the sight must have been chilling by the way Judith Angwedd recoiled.
“I can do anything I please. For instance—” She angled her chin slightly over her shoulder.
“Graves, give my command to the archers: once Lady Mallory and her son cross over Fallstowe’s drawbridge, if they are ever again seen within range of the walls—together or separately—they are to be shot dead, without inquiry. ”
“Regular arrows, or flaming ones, Madam?” Graves asked sincerely.
“That is at their own discretion, Graves.”
The soldier volunteered, “I shall relay the order upon my return to the garrison, if my lady wishes.”
Sybilla threw up a hand granting careless permission, and soon the clicking steps of the soldier were echoing away from the hall.
Judith Angwedd gasped. “Edward will hear of this, I warn you.”
Sybilla threw back her head and laughed to the buttresses above. She shook her head in mock pity. “Do you actually believe I care what the king thinks?” She held her arms out from her sides and looked around her hall pointedly. She raised her eyebrows. “Hmm?”
“You are what they say, aren’t you?” Judith Angwedd choked, her lips trembling. “You and your mother. The whole lot of you!”
Sybilla bent at the waist in a rush, bringing her nose so close to Judith Angwedd’s that their breaths mingled. Sybilla smiled.
“Care to find out?” she whispered.
The woman shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“A very wise choice.” Sybilla nodded once, emphatically.
And then she grabbed a handful of hair from the back of Judith Angwedd’s skull and rose, pulling the shrieking woman onto her hands.
Sybilla began marching down the center aisle of the hall toward the door as if against a strong gale, dragging Judith Angwedd behind her, who was now screaming in earnest and clawing at Sybilla’s hand.
“I am not a woman to be trifled with, Judith Angwedd,” Sybilla said in a tone of friendly advisory, although she nearly had to shout it over the woman’s terrible wailing. “And you may tell Edward that as well.”
She only let go of the woman’s hair once they had climbed the steps and arrived at the doors of the hall.
Judith Angwedd was sobbing now. Without having to give signal, the two guards on either side of the entry swung open the doors.
Sybilla gave a courteous sweep of her arm and Judith Angwedd began crawling over the threshold.
When she was nearly through, Sybilla planted her slippered foot on the woman’s backside, completing Judith Angwedd’s exit and knocking her on her face.
“Your son shall be roused to join you shortly. Good night, Lady Mallory.” Sybilla turned back to the hall, and the guards threw the doors closed.
She strode swiftly back down the center aisle, calling instructions before she had reached the men still standing near her dais.
“Graves, send Lady Cecily to me immediately, and have a party outfitted for my imminent departure. Inform the lieutenant who reported that he shall accompany us to this Pilings with additional soldiers, and we will search until we pick up Lady Alys’s trail.
” She was nearly past the table now, heading for her private door.
“All the way to London, Madam?”
“Pray we reach her before then,” Sybilla sighed.
“And send several strong men to Master Bevan’s room, to assist him with his and his viperous mother’s belongings.
I’m certain Judith Angwedd wishes to be reunited with her offspring as soon as possible, and far be it from me to cause the woman any distress. ”
Graves slipped soundlessly from the dais.
Sybilla had laid hand upon the door latch when Clement Cobb seized her elbow weakly. Sybilla had nearly forgotten about him. But her ire was still high and looking for further escape, and so she whipped her arm free and spun on the man.
“Lady Sybilla,” Clement simpered and cowered. “‘Twas wise of you to rid Fallstowe of that scavenger, indeed. But, I beg of you, let me accompany your party. Alys is—”
“I am not at all certain that Alys is anything to you now, Clement,” she informed him evenly.
“And until I and Lady Alys come to that decision, Blodshire will see not one farthing of Fallstowe coin. You may gather your belongings, your mother, your servants, and be gone from my home within the hour, lest you also wish a hasty departure.” She looked pointedly toward the doors where Judith Angwedd had so recently taken her own leave.
“Oh, Lady Sybilla! Why? Whatever have I done to give you such cause to reconsider the betrothal?” Clement nearly sobbed and sank to his knees. “I love Alys so—adore her! She—”
“If you hurry,” Sybilla interrupted pointedly, “you might yet catch one more experienced at comforting you in your mourning, although I do hold some doubt that her compassion is at all sincere.”
Clement’s face seemed to pull in on itself, and take on a greenish cast. He swallowed.
“Do we understand each other, Clement?”
He gave a hesitant, terrified nod. Then he whispered, his eyes pleading with Sybilla, “I beg of you, tell her not.”
Sybilla turned and swept through her private door, slamming it closed behind her. While she preferred to not bruise her dignity by running to her chamber, she did walk as quickly as she could.
Everything! She had to do every damned little thing herself.
But her mother had warned her of that. That, and so many other things which seemed to be coming to fruition, one after the other, like bone tiles collapsing in a long, clicking line.
And so Sybilla gritted her teeth and, at last, ran.