Bond of Blood

by Roberta Gellis

  "When I took him upstairs that he might bathe."

  "That first day? He took you that first day and you said nothing until now? Yet he made contract the next day. Well, it was ill done, but no doubt he is a man of honor. So be it he does not think to void the contract by saying that you are no maid when you are bedded after the marriage—"

  "But I am a maid, mother." Leah blushed painfully again when she realized what her mother thought. "Oh, he did not—he—mother, I would not lie to you. I told you he did nothing dishonorable. He only kissed me. It was I whowho lusted after him. Oh, mother," Leah's voice dropped and became tremulous, "I do so desire him. I tremble still. I feel his lips still upon my mouth. I have sinned in my desire and I am punished, but I cannot confess for there is no repentance for the sin in me."

  Edwina watched Leah during her simple confession, a mixed look of tenderness and horror on her face. So soft-hearted a child. If she gave the man her love, how bitterly she would be hurt. No, soon enough the poor child's lust would be changed to disgust when she was given what she thought she wanted.

  "It is a small sin to desire your own husband. My child, sweet child, what can I do for you? Men are not like women. They desire something and then, when they have it, often and often, they desire it no longer. Leah, it is well to love nothing but God overmuch. All human love brings pain. Parents die, children die or go away, husbands take other women to their beds …" She sat silent, absently stroking Leah's cheek. "Child, listen. It is not well to fling yourself upon a man. Often a man thinks that if a woman's blood is warm for him, it is so for all men. If it is true for you, you must guard yourself very carefully. Once your honor is lost, no man will have you—if your husband does not kill you outright. Do not believe men's blandishments; avoid their pleas. A woman who gives herself, even to her husband, without modesty, with too much willingness, is suspect. Tend him, clothe him, feed him. In these ways you may show your love with honor. But do not hang upon him, for you are more like to bring disgust by such behavior than love."

  Knowing her mother spoke the truth, for she could remember Cain's reaction when she responded to his kiss, Leah could only sigh. "I will try," she whispered unhappily.

  Lord Radnor's first messenger arrived two weeks later, mud-splattered and fatigued. He gave to Leah a small roll of parchment covered with writing. Radnor's hand was like himself, firm, plain, and strong. His message was simple. He was well; his business moved on apace; he still hoped to be able to keep his promised day of return. The letter contained no word of affection, but some lines at the end had been scraped out. Over them was written a brief thanks for her cross.

  Leah read the terse lines twice, then folded the slip and hid it in the bottom of her chest for further perusal later. Although her heart leapt at the thought that he had remembered her, something equally exciting was happening that day. The spring fair was in the town of Eardisley, and Leah was going with her mother to buy stuff for gowns for herself and at least one for Lord Radnor.

  Completely happy, Leah ran down into the court where Edwina waited and was flung up into her saddle by a young groom. They had not far to ride before the tents and awnings of the fair appeared. Leah caught her breath. Even at this distance she thought she could smell the odor of spices that came from lands beyond those where the crusaders fought. She would have to watch closely what her mother did; it might well be that next year at this time she would be buying salt and spices for her own huge family of servants and retainers.

  Edwina hid a smile tinged with bitterness, for Leah's thoughts could be read easily in her transparent face. Possibly she would be mistress in her own castle. More likely by this time next year, even if Radnor was still alive, he would have tired of her and some other woman would have the thrill of shopping at the fair. Nonetheless Edwina explained carefully to her daughter.

  Salt was the first great need of every keep, and salt was purchased in large quantities. Edwina showed Leah how the quality of the salt might be tested. First, it must be white; greyish or brownish salt was contaminated with the earth of the pits in which it was made and the sand would grit in the teeth. Only a hundred pounds or so of this white salt would be purchased, however, for the salting of the food for the high table and the salting of meat for use at the high table. The poorer quality of salt was purchased, at a much lower price and in much greater quantity, for the servants' food and for giving to the serfs. Also, Edwina pointed out, some salt should be taken from each sack, not always from the top of the sack either, and put into a little water. Of the white salt, not a speck should remain and the water should be as clear as it was before the salt was added. Of the brown, the dark matter should sink instantly to the bottom, leaving the water clear in a moment or two. Clouded water meant that the merchant had mixed chalk or some other matter with the salt to make it whiter or to make extra weight.

  Pepper was the next need, and Edwina moved to other booths after making arrangements to have the chosen salt delivered. She reminded the merchant before she left that the salt would be tested again at the castle and if the quality was found to be changed, woe betide him. Pepper too might be tested for quality. The little peppercorns should not break between the fingers; when they were broken by a hammer blow, they should crumble to tiny pieces; they should not fold together or stick or form lumps. The black peppercorns should burn the tongue greatly when applied; the grey should be sharply pungent but burn a little less. Leah should be sure, Edwina said, glancing up at her daughter's absorbed face, to make the merchant spread out his wares on a light cloth so that she could see the little black bugs that sometimes infested the pepper. Leah was never to buy what was not perfect for food. If she was sorry for the merchant, she could throw a few coins, but she must not buy bad spices.

  Finally they came to the tents of the cloth sellers. The other matters had interested Leah as something for which she would be responsible, but the booths of the cloth sellers she approached with bated breath. All her life she had been dressed in homespuns for every day and Edwina's made-over dresses for special occasions. Now she was to choose all new cloth for gowns for herself, cloth of the very best materials, and she had been set no limit on the amount or the price. She turned from side to side, blushing with pleasure as more and more rolls of material were laid out before her.

  "Leah," Edwina said finally, "you jump from one thing to another and accomplish nothing. Come, let us do this right. Look first at the fine linen for your undergarments. When you have chosen that, we may look at what will be needed for your tunics and then the bliauts."

  Leah sighed and turned away from a roll of lavender silk so thin that it would float. She chose finally a bolt of linen fine enough to see through and a bolt of wool the same, both in white. Two more bolts of heavier wool and linen for winter undergarments were also selected. Cloth for tunics, the longsleeved, high-necked garment worn under the bliaut in such a way that it showed at the neck, sleeves, and sides, was chosen in pieces just large enough to make one tunic each of different colors.

  Edwina shook her head over this piece of extravagance for she wondered what Leah would do when they started to wear. You could not patch different-colored garments from each other. It was true that Lord Radnor promised generously, but Leah should know that men were not so generous after another woman had taken their fancy. Well, Leah had to learn some things the hard way, and after offering her advice, she allowed the girl to make her own choice.

  For the bliauts, the sleeveless, wide-skirted, low-necked dress that laced up the side to fit the figure, Leah chose a deep mossy green wool, heavy and warm but soft as a kitten's fur, and similar pieces of cloth in a rich, warm brown, dark mustard, and tawny orange. She looked longingly at a deep red and deep blue, but her mother held them up against her and said that those colors made her look faded. For summer wear, lighter-coloured linens and wools were selected.

  While Leah was engaged in this business, her mother had been in conference with the merchant. "Come here, child," she call
ed when Leah, selection completed, stood sighing with repletion. "Do you like this cloth?"

  Leah gaped. Never in her whole life had she seen anything so gorgeous. It was a pale silver green brocaded silk, embroidered throughout with silver thread. "Oh!" Leah gasped, perfectly speechless, "oh!"

  "For your wedding gown, Leah, and you may use it for great occasions at court also."

  Leah touched the cloth with reverent fingers. Such things had only been known in England for a few years. The men who had gone on the First Crusade, a hundred years before, had brought some back and now such cloth together with silks of lesser value and the precious and rare velvet cloth came regularly into the lands to the south—lands whose romantic names were the only things about them that Leah knew—Italy, Sicily, and Spain.

  From there the cloth traveled slowly north through Europe until, finally, it reached England. Ordinarily a piece of such value would not be displayed at a country fair; it was meant for the great markets of London, but Edwina had asked for something very special and the merchant felt it worthwhile to take the chance of displaying his better wares.

  "Then we will take it at the price of twelve marks." Edwina spoke in a firm voice, for she had bargained for a long time before she had a price she considered reasonable. The merchant had whined and expostulated at great length; actually he was well pleased. In London he would have had to sell to another cloth seller who would have paid far less than Edwina.

  "Let us go now, Leah. We were to meet your father at noon and it is nearly that time now."

  "Mother, I have not chosen the cloth for Lord Radnor's gown."

  "Well, be quick." Edwina had grown colder and colder as the weeks passed to any mention of her future son-in-law, for his name brought a glow to Leah's whole countenance that not even discreetly lowered eyes could hide.

  "There is a nice piece of dark blue wool of good quality. Take that. It will make up well and wear well." It was hard to hide the impatience in her voice, and Edwina felt a faint pang of conscience as Leah looked at her, puzzled and hurt.

  "No," Leah said slowly, unused to acting against her mother's advice but determined to have what was best for her lord. "I do not think that color would become him." She wandered around the booth with the merchant in anxious attendance.

  "Ah," she cried finally, "there, that is what I want."

  The merchant drew in his breath softly and lifted down a bolt of the heaviest and finest velvet made. If he sold this too, he could leave his apprentice to dispose of the rest of the lot and return to Italy for more stock. Never had Eardisley been so profitable. This was going to be a great wedding. The cloth spread on the trestle used for a counter glowed with the same color and life as Leah's great ruby. She lifted a fold and put it against her cheek.

  "Leah," Edwina said sharply, "do you know the cost of such a piece of cloth for a man of Lord Radnor's size?"

  "No," Leah replied with a little tremble in her voice, "I had not thought, but it must be very costly." She turned away to look at some fine wools.

  "Madam," the merchant interposed, "I have only this one piece of value left. I will make a special price on it. You will benefit in the amount it would cost me to travel to London, for that much will I save. Look again. How perfect the weave. How light as a feather, not to be oppressive in summer. How warm for winter, still without weight. At what I will charge, it will be like paying nothing, for the cloth is so good it will last many, many years."

  "How much?" Leah breathed.

  "A pittance for such a piece of cloth—nothing for the value received."

  "How much?"

  "Ten marks."

  Tears rose to Leah's eyes. She had never seen that much money, let alone spent it in opposition to her mother's will. "No. It is far, far too much."

  "Well, what will madam pay?"

  Leah looked at her mother. She knew that Edwina had many coins, gold and silver, in her saddlebags and that she had paid for the salt and spices from this hoard. What was left Leah did not know, nor if she had known would that knowledge have been of much value, since she did not really understand money. But Edwina would offer no help, and Leah turned again to look at the woolens. She touched a wine-red serge, and suddenly the mulish look that Edwina had seen several times in the past few weeks took hold of her face.

  "What was the cost of the brocade?" she asked.

  "Twelve marks, madam."

  "Very well," Leah said, swallowing her disappointment. "Then I will have the red velvet and a plain silk of the same green color."

  "Leah!"

  "Madam!"

  "I will have that," Leah said, setting her jaw, "or nothing at all."

  "Ten marks is too much," Edwina said slowly. "I will give you half."

  What the devil had taken hold of her daughter? she wondered. Could the stories about Lord Radnor be true? Could he have bewitched the girl? Most women would sell their eyes, not to mention their souls and their honor, for a dress like that.

  "No, madam, I beg you. You will beggar me. I have a wife and children—"

  "My daughter says she will have nothing if she may not have the velvet, and I will not pay that price."

  "Nine marks then."

  "Five and a half."

  "Eight and a half. Madam, I paid more for the cloth than that. I can go no lower."

  "I will pay seven and not a mil more." Edwina flushed with rage.

  She was not angry with the merchant, of course, but with Leah. Yet she could not criticize her daughter for an act of self-sacrifice. Also it was growing late and Gilbert would be in a foul temper if they delayed him. It was she who would suffer too; Gilbert had grown very cautious about chastising Leah since his scene with Lord Radnor.

  "Madam, I beg you—"

  "Seven, I said. Quick, decide. My husband is waiting for us."

  The merchant was beaten and nodded his acquiescence. He had not done as well on the velvet as on the brocade, but he had a fair profit and was well satisfied. Leah had watched and listened to the bargaining with bright eyes. That was how it was done.

  As soon as the coins changed hands, Leah caught the bolt of cloth to her with a cry of joy. Edwina, completely out of patience, pulled her away roughly.

  "If we are late, your father will be furious."

  Leah came at once, a little pale at the thought of Pembroke's wrath. Edwina was a little pale too as she tried to think of explanations for the huge sums spent. Gilbert had told her clearly that he did not care what the cost was, but it seemed unlikely that he should have changed so radically overnight no matter what he said. She spurred her horse forward when he came into sight. Leah hung back at first when she saw her mother and father in earnest conversation, but she moved towards them again when she heard her father laugh.

  "What do I care," he was saying. "It is a fine joke, for Radnor himself left the gold to pay for the chit's clothes. So he has paid for his own too." His face darkened momentarily. "He said he would ask for an accounting, so it might as well be spent as given back. Are you finished here?"

  "As you will, my lord," Edwina replied submissively. "There are still ribbons and laces and such matters, but—"

  "Well, go and finish your spending. I will return to the castle. But see that you are not late and that you are finished today. I will not have you running about at your own will every day only because a fair is in town."

  Chapter 5

  Edwina had no mind to linger at the fair. The huge task of preparations for the wedding had fallen largely on her, and two months was a very short time to prepare for the reception of about a hundred important guests, each of whom would bring his own retinue. All of these people had to be properly housed, fed, and provided with drink. Pembroke would see to the arrangements of the tourney and the hunts to amuse the male guests, but Edwina had to arrange to entertain the women.

  Every serf in the area was impressed for extra service at the castle, and every animal that Pembroke could lay his hands on, legally or otherwise, was rounded
up to be fattened and slaughtered when the time came. Leah too had been pressed into service, and she was responsible for every task that could possibly be delegated by her mother. It was just as well; had she been idle she would have worried herself sick over Cain's welfare. As it was, she was so busy that she scarcely had time to think. By the end of each day, Leah was so tired that she shook, but she forced herself to remain awake and she sewed, night after night, with tiny, careful stitches at the magnificent robe of red velvet, now fur-trimmed and jewel bedecked—her wedding gift to her lord.

  For Lord Radnor, things were not going quite as smoothly as his letter indicated. The vassals were not easy to pacify, and their preparations for war had aroused the nearest Welsh tribes. Cain found it necessary to pursue groups of the rebels through the mountains. It was hard, dangerous going and even harder and more dangerous as they moved farther and farther into purely Welsh territory. He had not been wounded seriously and he fought as well as ever, but the joy of it was gone; his mind and heart were elsewhere. Radnor had personal problems. He was so tormented by his passions that he had turned aside in the middle of a day's march to ease himself with the first woman he could find.

  To his horror, he could not take his pleasure of her. At a town still further off his road, he had sought out a prostitute, but this served his purpose no better. Nothing the woman could do would arouse his body, yet every night he tossed and groaned, awake or asleep, tortured by the lewdest visions. He was obsessed and terrified by the idea that he had become impotent, that this, just before his marriage, was his punishment for matricide and fratricide. His father had called it murder, although Cain tried to believe that accidents of birth could not be held against the newborn infant. If Gaunt was right, however, he was damned, and his line was meant to end with him.