Secret Song

by Catherine Coulter

  If he continued to want her, she would soon be again with child. His child this time. He sat back, listening to all the voices that filled the great hall, blending together in a low rumble, the individual words indecipherable. It was pleasant, all this noise, and it gave him peace, strangely enough. He looked over at Lady Katherine and Sir Thomas. Thomas was smitten, no doubt about that, besotted to the roots of his grizzled hair. He wondered about Katherine. Perhaps they would wed. If that happened, he hoped they would remain at Chantry Hall. The idea of having a large family surrounding him was satisfying. It made him feel needed; it made him feel like he belonged. Finally there was a place for him and he would fill it with those he cared about and those who cared about him.

  Roland took a slow drink of his wine. He replied to a question from one of his men. As he spoke, he heard Daria’s clear laughter. It warmed him more than the sweet wine. Then, quite suddenly and unbidden, he remembered walking beside her into the cathedral in Wrexham to get out of the endless Welsh rain. He was sicker than the devil’s dog, aye, he remembered that. He’d felt weak, and his throat was raw and his head pounded and he’d wanted to puke. He remembered desperately trying to keep control of himself, but he couldn’t. He remembered clearly when his mind blanked away and he was sliding to the floor. He remembered nothing else. But he should remember more, and he didn’t understand why he couldn’t. He frowned as he emptied his flagon.

  Why couldn’t he remember anything else? Two days were missing from his life. Two days until he’d come to himself to see Daria standing over him, and he remembered the feelings of humiliation when he’d had to relieve himself but was too weak to see to it without her help. But even much of that time was blurred and indistinct in his mind. He saw an older woman standing over him, smiling and giving him an evil potion to drink. Her name was Romila and she hadn’t told him Daria had disappeared until he’d threatened to go search for her. What had he done in those two days? Had he possibly taken his wife’s virginity during one of those two nights?

  Graelam de Moreton felt good, for at least ten more seconds. He felt very good during those seconds, for under guard on the eastern side of his camp was the Earl of Reymerstone. Then he heard a woman’s voice and he started to his feet, dropping the wooden goblet of ale, when he recognized that the voice belonged to Kassia. And then she was striding up to him as if she were conqueror of the damned world, dressed like a boy in tunic and hose, a feathered cap over her hair, and she was laughing. When she got five feet away from him, she let out a whooping yell and hurled herself at him.

  He caught her, holding her tightly to him. She was laughing and babbling, her words tumbling to and fro, saying things about paying her debt to Daria, and here he was doing the same thing, and they’d more than paid back their obligation.

  Graelam shook his head, set his wife away from him, and tried to look fearsome. It wasn’t difficult, for he was stripped down to a loincloth, preparing to bathe his sweating, dirty face and body. He was large and hard, and when he wished to, his expression could be as frightening as the devil’s.

  “Oh,” Kassia said, looking at him from his toes to his mouth. “Oh,” she said again, and she smiled up at him brilliantly. “You’re nearly naked, Graelam.”

  He clasped her waist between his hands and lifted her. When her nose was right in front of his nose, he said, “You are here in my camp, a wild and lonely place that lies twenty miles from Wolffeton, a place you shouldn’t be, and you are garbed like a silly boy in clothes you shouldn’t be wearing, and you are grinning like a half-wit. I heard your wild babbling but didn’t understood it. Now, madam, you will tell me what the hell you’re doing here and why—”

  She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him. “I will tell you everything, my dear lord, if you will but let my feet touch the ground again. I should love some ale. This tracking makes one vastly thirsty.”

  “Kassia.”

  She danced away from him, and he watched her, shaking his head, knowing she would tell him everything in her own good time. He commenced with his bathing. When he felt her take the wet cloth from his hand, he smiled, and gave a contented moan as she scrubbed his back.

  He was naked now and they were alone in his tent and she was standing between his legs, her fingers massaging his scalp.

  “I worried about you, Graelam.”

  “There was nothing to worry even little Harry. The Earl of Reymerstone wasn’t expecting me, needless to say. I took him and his men with no bloodshed. He lies yon in a tent with Rolfe and three of my soldiers guarding him. He’s a very unhappy man at this moment, and likely confused as to why I, a stranger to him, would take him prisoner.”

  She leaned down and kissed him. “Let the lout suffer awhile longer.”

  “And will you tell me what you’ve done, Kassia?” he asked, all calm inquiry. “Clearly this time.”

  “Aye, I will tell you, my lord. I have the Earl of Clare with me, and four of his men.”

  “You what?”

  His incredulous reaction warmed her to her fingertips. She grinned. “I owed Daria a debt for saving your life. You were going after the Earl of Reymerstone, but what was I to do? Oh, yes, I overheard Rolfe speaking of it, that’s how I found out. There was a shortage of enemies. Then the most wonderful news came to Wolffeton whilst you were gone. The Earl of Clare—that Marcher Baron who’d held her captive for all those months—had come into Cornwall to try to recapture her. Nay, Graelam, don’t bellow at me. Please, heed me, my lord, for I have right and reason on my side.”

  Graelam’s face was grim. He couldn’t believe his ears, couldn’t believe what his wife—this cocky little twit—was telling him. “Continue,” he said, but he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to hear the rest of it.

  Kassia said happily, “I saw it as a sign from God, Graelam, surely you must understand that. You were gone and thus I saw it as a divine signal for me to act. It was my opportunity to repay my debt to Daria. None of my men—your men—were hurt. The Earl of Clare lies bound and in some discomfort in the small copse just beyond your camp. The man has the reddest hair, did you know that? The fool had thought to sneak into Chantry Hall, steal Daria away, and disappear like a thief. I told him that I wouldn’t allow that. He’s equally as unhappy as the Earl of Reymerstone, I daresay.”

  Graelam stared at his delicate, white-skinned, very small wife. “I should beat you,” he said, his eyes darkening.

  “I pray that you don’t, my lord, for I am very weary from my hunting.”

  He rose, towering above her, his naked body gleaming in the lone candlelight, and pulled on a bedrobe. As he belted it, he heard her say from behind him, “I would prefer you naked, husband. Just to look at you makes me hungry for you, not for a boring meal.”

  He turned on her, roaring, “You won’t make me forget your reckless stupidity, Kassia. Don’t try your woman’s wile on me.” He paused, eyeing her, then said, “There is some bread and meat left from our supper. I will have one of the men bring it to you. Remain in this tent or it will go badly for you.” With those threatening words that didn’t make Kassia tremble in the least bit, Graelam strode out of his tent. He quickly found Rolfe, his master-at-arms.

  Rolfe grinned at him. “Nay, my lord, don’t bite off my tongue. Your lady took him fairly, and your men protected her well. I’ve bedded him down on the western side of the camp. Both our knaves are well-guarded, my lord.”

  Graelam could manage nothing more than a grunt. Rolfe chuckled. “I don’t lie to you. Your men did guard her well, my lord. Indeed, they much enjoyed themselves, taking the Earl of Clare and hearing your lady crow in triumph. Would you like to sit down and drink a bit of this wine? It’s from Lady Kassia’s father. It will warm your innards and make you smile.”

  Graelam, knowing there was nothing for it, did as Rolfe suggested. Rolfe asked, “What will ye do with the bastards, my lord?”

  “Ah,” Graelam said, and sat back against the trunk of an oak tree. “We have a surfeit of earls,
both so black of soul I doubt the sun will rise fully on the morrow. It’s amusing. I suppose we could ransom them for a goodly sum, if there is anyone who cares whether they live or rot.”

  “They were both after revenge,” Rolfe said, shaking his head at the wickedness.

  “I’ll take both of them to Roland. Then my debt to Daria is paid.”

  Rolfe grinned over the rim of his goblet. “Don’t forget your lady, my lord. She’ll ride beside you, proud as a little peahen, for she did catch the Earl of Clare. She now considers her debt paid as well. Did you know that Clare has the reddest hair I’ve ever seen on a man?” Rolfe shook his head, continuing when his master remained silent, “And neither knows the other is here. Do they know of each other, I wonder?”

  “Indeed they do. They’re mortal enemies, from what Roland told me.”

  “Now, that’s interesting. What will Roland de Tournay do with two earls?”

  “If he’s wise, he’ll kill them both. But knowing Roland, I venture to think he’ll devise a punishment that will make both of them howl into eternity. He’s got a devious mind, Rolfe.”

  “Like your wife’s, my lord?”

  Graelam gave him a sour look. “Aye, just like my damned wife’s.” He rose to his feet and stretched. The smell of the sea was sharp tonight and the wind was rising. Dark clouds scuttled across the sky, covering the three-quarter moon, then leaving it to shine brilliantly. Graelam breathed in deeply, bade Rolfe and his other men good night, and strode back to his tent.

  His wife was waiting for him, just as he’d ordered her to, only she was quite naked and lying in his narrow cot.

  He heard her giggle even as he stripped off his bedrobe.

  23

  Kassia de Moreton gave her husband a wounded look. “You didn’t tell me they knew each other, Graelam.”

  “Villains usually do,” Graelam said.

  “I wonder what would happen if we simply left them alone together.”

  “They’d probably kill each other. Roland told me that there is bone-deep hatred between them. Evidently Damon Le Mark killed Edmond of Clare’s brother some years ago. I know not more. Mayhap Roland will tell us what is between them.”

  The two earls stood separated by the width of Chantry Hall’s inner bailey, each surrounded by both Graelam and Roland’s men. As for Roland, he and Daria were staring from Graelam to his small wife, who stood by his side, straight and proud and tousled in her boy’s clothes. What was left of her braids was still tucked up under her cap.

  Roland shook his head, still looking dazed. “I know no more than that, Graelam.”

  Beside him, Daria said, her voice bewildered, “You mean each of you captured one of them to pay back your debt to me?” At Kassia’s pleased nod, Daria said, “But there is no debt. If I made you think you were ever indebted to me, I should be hung up by my toes and flayed—”

  “Hush, Daria,” Graelam said. “It is done. The two men were here in Cornwall, and each was up to no good. They are evil, and they deserve whatever punishment Roland decides to mete out to them. My wife and I, well, we simply eased matters for your husband here. Nothing more.”

  Lady Katherine stood behind her daughter, her eyes on Damon Le Mark. Just seeing him again brought back the pain, the fear. Daria could feel her mother’s rigidity. She turned and said quickly, her voice low and soothing, “Mother, nay, don’t be frightened of him. Damon can’t hurt either of us, ever again. He’s bound, Mother. Look at him.”

  Katherine heard her daughter’s voice as if from afar. “He was coming here to kill you and your husband. Doubt it not, Daria.”

  “Of course he was,” Roland said cheerfully. “He failed, Katherine. Do as Daria says—look at him. Isn’t he a pathetic specimen? A man like him who’s been stripped of all his fine power has nothing much left. Power gave him the illusion of substance. Now he’s of no importance at all. Believe me, Katherine, and don’t fear him ever again.”

  Daria was staring at her husband with wonder. She saw her mother draw a very deep breath, and the dreadful gray pallor began to leave her cheeks. She saw Sir Thomas take her hand into his gnarled one and lightly squeeze it. To her delight, her mother turned and smiled up at Sir Thomas.

  Roland nodded. “Now, come inside, all of you. Aye, Graelam, bring even that ragged boy there with all the hair. I should like to hear why you appear so bewitched with a skinny lad who hasn’t even the years to grow a beard yet.”

  “The little lad only appears skinny in these absurd garments,” Graelam said. “Without them, it’s a very different lad. And with the proper encouragement, why, it’s a lad with much promise.”

  “That’s quite enough,” Kassia said. “Ho, Daria.”

  Daria shook her first in the air. Roland called out, “Come into the hall and tell us how all this comes about.”

  “Will I hear counsel to tell me to thrash the little one here?” Graelam asked.

  “There are better things to do to a wife,” Roland said. He clasped Daria’s fingers more and pulled her close.

  Graelam looked at them thoughtfully. It took only his departure to bring the two of them together? He’d been the one standing in the path? It was a lowering thought. He saw that Kassia was also remarking this new closeness with the same surprise.

  Once they were seated at a trestle table, goblets of wine in their hands brought by a beaming Gwyn, Kassia said simply, “As I said, we are repaying our debt to you, Daria, nothing more. My husband hunted the Earl of Reymerstone, and I, well, I was fortunate enough to learn that the Earl of Clare was in Cornwall as well. Both wanted to take you. As for Roland, I doubt not they had bloody revenge in mind for him.”

  Roland felt the slight tremor go through her body as she said, “I don’t want you to think that way. I don’t want a reward, because I did nothing more than anyone else would have done.”

  Graelam smiled. “Does this mean that you wish us to let the earls go free?”

  Daria stared at him, suddenly mute.

  “He’s got you there, dearling. No, Graelam, and we both thank you, even though we wish you hadn’t endangered yourselves.”

  “The only danger that will come to my wife is from me. Listen, Daria, you saved my life. As for Kassia here, well, she fancied that my life was also worth something to her.”

  Roland laughed. “Whilst I sit on my arse safely within the walls of my castle, the two of you are out capturing treacherous rogues and bringing them to me. For judgment? This will take some thought.”

  Graelam nodded. Kassia said, shaking her head, “Nay, Roland, they are here for Daria’s judgment. It is her debt we repay.” She turned to smile at her husband. “We do hope, however, that neither of you have any more enemies lurking just beyond the hills. I try to keep my husband safe.”

  “I do not. Do you, husband?”

  Roland looked thoughtful for a very long time before he finally shook his head. “Any more knaves would be a scruffy lot, unworthy of your attention, Graelam.”

  “Good,” Graelam said. “I’ve a fancy to rot a bit within my castles walls for a while.”

  Kassia leaned forward, pulling off her boy’s cap as she did so. “Can you tell us more about these two men, Roland?”

  “As I told Graelam, Damon Le Mark murdered the Earl of Clare’s brother some years ago. Clare never forgot and his hatred grew. That was why he kidnapped Daria. It was his revenge. But then he wanted to take her to wive and he wanted her dowry as well. As the Earl of Clare himself told me, it would have to satisfy him.”

  Daria continued. “Damon knew the real reasons for my kidnapping, but he didn’t tell Roland. He made up some tale that Roland never believed.”

  Katherine said very quietly, “No, he wouldn’t tell the truth, even if he had a choice. He didn’t even tell me, and that I don’t understand at all, for it would have tormented me, and thus afforded him great pleasure.”

  Everyone turned to Lady Katherine in surprise. “What do you mean, Mother?”

  “I mean
that Damon should have told me what had happened. He would have enjoyed my misery. I simply wonder why he chose not to.”

  “You knew the Earl of Clare had kidnapped me. You knew he wanted to wed me.”

  “No, I didn’t know that he wanted to wed you. Damon didn’t tell me about that.” She shook her head. She looked pale and very, very sad. Then she smiled, a bittersweet smile that held a good deal of acceptance. “The truth is sometimes difficult, Daria. But now it is your right to know. It is true that Damon Le Mark did indeed murder Edmond of Clare’s brother. His name was David and he was young and innocent, as was I, and we fell in love. It was so many years ago. My parents had promised me to Reymerstone’s half-brother, Daria, but I didn’t want him. I wanted only David. Of course, what a girl wants makes no difference to anything. I was forced to wed James of Fortescue anyway. But before I became his wife, I went to David. It’s probable that David is your real father, my love. The Earl of Clare is thus your uncle; Damon found out about this some time ago, possibly from his half-brother, for my husband never believed you were the product of his seed. Damon caught David some five years ago and murdered him. He sent word to his half-brother of what he had done, and my husband rejoiced. He laughed when he told me. Even though they were but half-brothers, you see, they were very close. They were very much alike in many ways save that James was skilled in arms and fighting. He was seen as honorable and brave. But it was his conceit that he held up for all to see as his honor, and most were fooled by it, including you, my daughter.”