Pembroke did not speak his mind fully to Maud. When he needed to express himself, there was always Edwina, who feared him more than she feared the devil because she was more surely in his power. To her he added the fact that Radnor might not fight in the tourney. That would be the last, most certain, device. There were knives that slipped between ribs in dark passageways; there were arrows that sank deep after singing through quiet courtyards.
Edwina did not know, and did not wish to know, the details.
She knew enough to horrify and revolt her, but Radnor was nothing to her and the prize to be won by conniving at his death was invaluable. Desperately she slapped Leah until the girl's cheeks were flaming red and her sobs quieter.
"Whatever you have heard, or guessed, or dreamt, hold your tongue. If this marriage does not come to pass because of a slip of your tongue, your father will rip it out with hot pincers. Now, wash your face. Dress in your best gown, but do not dare show yourself in the hall until I send for you. Whatever you have marred, I will do my best to amend it. God help us both if I may not make matters smooth."
Edwina threw on her own clothes and rushed into the great hall. Here the sight that met her eyes filled her with relief but also confused her. Lord Radnor, Pembroke, and the Earl of Gaunt were laughing pleasantly enough together over ceremonial goblets of wine. What was plainly the document of marriage settlement lay on the table bearing all three signatures. The clerics who had written out the settlements and witnessed them were making copies to be deposited in the church in case of future argument. Nothing could have exceeded the surface good will of the scene. If Leah guessed something, she had not spoken and now would not. It was more likely, considering Pembroke's care for secrecy, that the child was merely unwilling. That would be excellent as long as her distaste did not communicate itself to Lord Radnor—no, even that did not matter for the betrothal was complete and he could not now withdraw.
What was going forward at the moment Edwina arrived was a discussion of who must be asked to the wedding. Actually this was a serious problem, because Gaunt and his son stood midway between the sides in the civil war. Their sympathies were with Henry of Anjou; their fealty had been given to Stephen. Unlike many others, they were faithful to their sworn word and, although some hated them on both sides, by most their behavior was grudgingly accepted and even respected.
Matilda, the empress, was no problem; she was just about to return to France and would not be likely to delay her departure. Henry likewise was no problem because he had not yet arrived and might not come after all. The most serious question was what to do about King Stephen and Robert, Earl of Gloucester. Both were far too important to ignore, and to have both come to the wedding would be a catastrophe.
Finally Gaunt said that he would write personally to Queen Maud and tell her that she must dissuade Stephen from coming because of the danger to him which would arise from being so deep in enemy territory. To give the king credit, no such argument would have weight with him both because he was a brave man and because he would love to annoy Gloucester. Lord Radnor engaged to contact Philip of Gloucester, Robert's second son and his own close friend, and ask him to keep his father away on the chance that Queen Maud could not control her husband.
Most of the other great magnates who would be invited either were neutrals or had changed sides in the conflict so often that they could mix with each other in relative safety. There was some doubt whether men like the Earl of Chester would be able to remember which side they were on at the moment.
The earl's attention, once the major question was settled, wandered, and he engaged Edwina in conversation. "I am well pleased in this matter." He smiled grimly. "It is good for a young man to have a wife to his liking. I told him two years since to throw off the slut he was playing with and make a marriage, but then he was so hot after her that he would not listen. It is no light thing to ride and fight all day and wander about half the night. Things will be better thus." Gaunt laughed coarsely. "Your daughter has well caught his fancy—so well that he could not lie quiet last night. He thought I slept, but I heard him walking. He will return in great haste. I hope he may keep his mind enough upon the business in hand that we do not lose the northern provinces. I have half a mind to go with him. I had forgot how it was." A bitter expression crossed the old man's face. "But it was so with myself for his mother. I was so fine-drawn by the time we came to bed that I had a fever and lost two stone."
He paused a moment while his mouth grew harder yet, and Edwina felt sick as she thought of what Leah would have to bear. Gaunt had continued speaking, however, and she wrenched her thoughts from her own bitter memories to what he was saying.
"He murdered her—killed her in the bearing, her and the twin who was born with him. I can never forget that, for the other boy was whole and the woman was dear to me. If there had been another to take the lands and the name, I would have strangled him then with my own hands, but I had no other son and as time passed … God Himself has punished him sufficiently; he fears damnation without hope of redemption, and he thinks he bears the mark of Satan on that lame leg."
Gaunt snorted contemptuously and continued, "With such things may a man torture himself if he chooses to meddle with his own soul. I will say for him though that he bears the pain that keeps the memory green bravely, and he is not free of it day or night. That I taught him; I have that satisfaction. And in other ways too he is a good son, but I cannot forget the bitterness he brought with him. I have helped him remember also; I named him Cain for the fratricide he is."
"My lord." Edwina was shocked at the words although there was a puzzling note in the voice that she did not take time to try to understand. Enmity between father and son was common enough in these terrible times, but not for this reason. "I speak as a woman who has borne, and I say that it is no fault of the child if the mother— Ah well," she said as the Earl turned away angrily, "you know your own affairs best. My concern is with my daughter only. Will he be kind to her?"
"When he is so hot for her that he cannot sleep? Oh yes, he will be kind—at least while the heat lasts." Edwina grew pale, but Gaunt did not notice, absorbed by his own thoughts. "No," he said with a frown, "I do him an injustice. He holds hard by his word and is in no way changeable in his affections. Doubtless as he begins he will continue. If your daughter is not as a queen in her own keep and as happy as mortal lot can be, the fault will be in her, not in him. Look at him, he is besotted."
Edwina could not help but feel that this was true, although it did little to comfort her. Lord Radnor was talking soberly enough with her husband, but something about his manner, his expectant glances at the door, an eagerness in his expression, all betrayed that his interest was centered elsewhere. Edwina motioned to a page idling about and told him to fetch Leah. When the girl entered the room, Cain saw at once that she had been crying in spite of the bright red bliaut she had donned to help conceal her blotched complexion. He limped across to her to hand her through the room.
"You are not still concerned for that silly jest of mine?"
"No."
"Then why are your eyes so heavy? There are tears in them still."
"Oh … Oh, it is a woman's foolishness to cry for joy."
Thus far in his life, Radnor had not found that to be true, but then he had not found a girl like this before either. "I know little enough of the ways of such women as you. If you say this, I will believe you, but I urge you to speak the truth to me. As things are with me now, I will forgive you anything—if you tell me plainly—almost anything. If you lie to me, I warn you, you will be sorry for it."
In her naiveté Leah did not realize that what Lord Radnor said did not apply to the type of lie she had told. She took his words quite literally, as she had learned to take her father's statements. Her hand trembled slightly on his, yet her reply took a liberty she would never have dared taken with her father.
"Later, I will tell you later. Please, not here, not now."
Their low voice
s had not carried in the noise the servants made setting up the tables for dinner. Only Edwina was watching, and she could make nothing of what she saw. If Leah was unwilling to take Lord Radnor as her husband, the girl was displaying a duplicity Edwina had never believed to be part of her character. Yet it was apparent that her crying had not been caused by any quarrel with Lord Radnor, for there she was speaking with him in the low, intense tones of intimacy. Of course they had been together all day. It was barely possible, in the light of what Gaunt had said, that Leah had yielded willingly or been forced to yield to him and was suffering the revulsion which Edwina was sure came with that. Even this notion did not seem to be correct, because when Lord Radnor was separated from Leah by the seating arrangements of the table, he watched her with a look of avidity that did not, to Edwina's limited knowledge, augur satisfaction.
"Lord Radnor," Pembroke called across Edwina to him, "you go to the summoning of the barons this summertide. What do you think Stephen wants?"
"What does he always want but money and men? What he hopes to achieve when he knows that he has let all power slip from him is more my question. He has probably heard the rumor of Henry's coming and, I can but believe, seeks to gauge the support he will have or seeks by bribes and intimidation to gather more."
"So I think too. But why, when you believe this and you know he cannot compel you, do you go? I do not."
"He goes," growled Gaunt, "because I say so."
"Yes, I suppose he would not if you bid him nay, but why do you say so?"
"Because I have done homage to Stephen. I am his man, damn his eyes, and I will not be forsworn. We are sworn to provide him with men and arms for the holding of our lands and each time we must prove anew to the council that those forces are honestly expended in defence of the realm against the Welsh. It is a waste of time for Cain to go so far, and it puts me to great labor for which I am growing too old in taking his place on the field, but I would not have it said of us that we did not obey our overlord's summons honestly."
"My father speaks the truth, but there is more in it than that alone. God only knows what imprudences the king may be beguiled into committing—or paid to commit. It is most needful to be there to oversee what occurs and, if necessary, to counter against what is intended. I should think the head sitting a little loose on my shoulders if I were not there when the wolves gathered."
"Your head may sit a little loose on your shoulders through being there."
"Mayhap. But I may be able to ward the blow that will overset it completely if I can see it coming."
"Ah, well, you know best the state of these matters. I would not run when Stephen called unless it suited my purpose." Pembroke's eyes held an odd, calculating expression. "But in these times, would it not be better to leave your wife behind?"
"Oh no!" The protest was startled out of Leah who had been listening intently. She covered her lips with her hand immediately and drew back, but not quickly enough to escape the backhand blow her father dealt her.
Almost before the smack had landed, Radnor was on his feet, his hand fumbling for the sword that was unaccustomedly missing from his side.
"How dare you!" His voice was choked with rage. "My wife! How dare you strike my wife!" Radnor would have launched himself bodily at his prospective father-by-marriage, but Edwina stood before him, clinging to his arms, and Gaunt had interposed his own body in front of Pembroke.
Leah cried out in agony, "Oh, my lord, I pray you—" and the men at the long tables in the hall began to growl and rise.
Pembroke, yellow-pale, forced himself to laugh heartily. "Such a to-do over a slap to a girl." And then as Cain snarled like an animal and threatened to break from Edwina's grasp, "Nay, nay—I beg your pardon, Lord Radnor, but think you, she has been my daughter longer than she has been betrothed to you, and it is not my custom to be said nay in my own household."
Slowly the alarming red of Lord Radnor's scars faded to their normal white. "No doubt that is true, and I beg pardon in my turn for offering you violence in your own home. But her behavior is my problem now. While I am here, I pray you, let me attend to it." They all resumed their seats; Leah could eat no more, however, and although Cain went on with his meal he had little enough appetite and his lips were set in grim lines.
Pembroke shook his head, wondering what had caused Lord Radnor's excitement. He could only decide that his future son-by-marriage had a tremendous sense of possession. What he failed to see, never having experienced anything similar himself, was the passionate attachment that Radnor was developing for his daughter. "I have heard also," he continued as if no interruption had taken place, "that Stephen gives a great tourney. Are you entered in the lists, Radnor?"
The Earl of Gaunt's head lifted sharply and Cain stared fixedly at Pembroke. "You above all should not ask," he replied. "You, I hear, suggested my name as king's champion for that tourney."
Pembroke shrugged. "He put it upon me because he desires to make bad blood between us. You may believe I suggested no such task for my son-by-marriage. You should have had sufficient sense to refuse to go to London at all. What if Stephen should hope to take this simple way to be rid of you?"
Leah gave a small gasp which Pembroke ignored, but Cain's eyes flew to her. "Much hope he has of that," he replied with assurance. "I have spent fifteen years under arms. Am I likely to be overset by a dulled jousting lance? There will be little enough to fear on Stephen's score. I take a full complement of well-tried fighting men with me, and I am no babe in arms. Also, my father remains behind as a free agent. While he holds Painscastle and our lands, it would be madness for the king to attack me."
"Openly! Which is why I beg you to beware the tourney."
"Nonsense. If I have not been killed in war, no man will kill me in a game of war."
Gaunt lowered his head over his food and did not lift it again, but his eyes were at once wary and blind-looking.
Cain continued speaking. "I am truly concerned about matters other than Stephen's like or dislike. This business of Henry's coming, if it be true, is like to throw all into disorder again. The new Earl of Hereford is solidly behind him and is a hotheaded youth. Gloucester is always willing to spite Stephen, and might contrive, although I know him to be drained dry by these years of war, to send the boy some help. If Chester should again change sides, the whole bloody war will be in full force and with as little hope of success this time as last."
"True enough, but I cannot see what good can come of meddling. Sit firm on your own lands. As you yourself said, you have enough to do there."
"Ay, if I could, mayhap I would, but with each change of fortune in England, the Welsh seek to be free of us. If I could but see some hope of success with Henry, I might close my eyes and let happen what will, but Stephen is still too strong. Many feel still as you said you felt last night—that Stephen's yoke is lighter than Henry's may be. If Henry comes, the land will be bled white again; crops will rot in the fields because there will be none to harvest them and famine will stalk us all. And all for nothing!"
"But you cannot prevent him from coming."
"Alas, I cannot, but mayhap I can convince him to go home again—I and others—until the time is more ripe. If Stephen can be made to renew his promise to make Henry his heir and speak the boy fair, I think it can be done. His disposition, as I remember it, did not seem unyielding like his mother's. He seemed a reasonable lad."
"But in this melee of policy, is it well to bring an untried girl?"
Radnor's face darkened alarmingly, but his voice did not change. "I hope she may listen and hold her tongue. To be silent at her time of life is meet and fitting, and by listening with closed mouth one may hear much. It would be well for me to know what is said in the women's quarters."
"Radnor," Pembroke said scornfully, "a girl of fifteen?"
"I think, Pembroke, it would be better not to discuss this matter further. I count on your training to enforce silence on her and your assurance that she is not simple to
enable her to repeat what she hears."
"Who can trust a woman among women?"
Radnor's eyes kindled, showing red lights in the brown, but Gaunt veiled his and began to laugh. He swallowed a huge chunk of venison from the blade of his knife and raised his harsh voice into the tense silence. "You will never convince him, Gilbert. Can you not see that he cares nothing for her head if her body is with him. Look you, he is so hot after her that he shows blue beneath the eyes already. How he will last out these two moons, I cannot tell."
A slow dark flush dyed Cain's face, causing his scars to stand out whiter still. Gaunt laughed again.
"Well, Gilbert, look. Have I not touched him on the raw?"
The victim of the gibe stood up, rocking the table, said that he had eaten his fill, and that Leah should accompany him for he had something to say to her. This caused a new burst of merriment from the older men. Cain turned his head from one to the other like a dog-baited bear and then left the hall precipitately. Leah rose immediately. For the first time in her life she looked neither at her mother nor her father for permission but followed her new master out on to the battlements.
In the hall, Pembroke had continued the argument with Gaunt. He pointed out a variety of disagreeable results that could come about from taking a young girl to Stephen's loose-lived court. Gaunt only laughed.
"You Norman-Saxons do not understand the hot blood of the Welsh that runs in our veins. Cain has double portion. Both mother and grandmother came from the mad tribes of the mountains—princesses in their own land and heavily dowered when their menfolk … er … died." There was meaning in Gaunt's eyes, and he paused infinitesimally before continuing. "Besides, it would serve him right enough if she wrung his withers by casting her eyes about."
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