Bond of Blood

by Roberta Gellis

  Lord Radnor's second messenger arrived at the end of May. Leah came out into the courtyard with her arms and dress white with flour. She grabbed at the scroll held out, regardless of her mother's presence, for she had been seeing her lover with wide dead eyes for two weeks past.

  "Stay," she bade the tired rider, as she read. "He says he is well." She turned to the man who stood leaning on his sweating horse. "Was he well when you left him?"

  Cedric cleared his throat nervously; he was not accustomed to speaking much to highborn ladies. "If my lord says he is well—then—he is, I suppose."

  "You suppose? Has he been wounded? Has there been fighting?"

  "Fighting in plenty, my lady, but his lordship hasn't caught it. Only, he looks— His temper is mortal bad, my lady. No one don't dare say him a word but old Giles."

  There was a little pause as Leah made, for her, a momentous decision. Then she drew a trembling breath. "Do you return to Lord Radnor?"

  "Yes, my lady, as quick as I can."

  "Before you leave, come to me and I will give you a message for him."

  Cedric strode off to be refreshed in the servants' quarters and Edwina came up to Leah who was re-reading Cain's brief note anxiously. "He writes you his welfare?"

  Leah started. "Yes. He offered to do so."

  "You did not tell me. Do you reply to him?"

  "I have not dared, but—but his man says that he does not look well. O God, I knew this would happen. I knew. O God, do not punish my sin by hurting him."

  Edwina slapped her daughter's face. "Pray for him if you like, but do not question the ways of the Lord. Whatever Christ sends us is ultimately for our own good."

  "Yes, Mother. Oh, Mother, I did not mean to … but I love him so."

  "To love a man of flesh and blood can only bring you bitter sorrow."

  "I know. But if the Merciful Lord will leave me my love, I will bear whatever other sorrow he sends with patience, I swear it."

  Edwina shook her head furiously. Nothing she said seemed to penetrate her daughter's mind, and she had come to wish that Lord Radnor would hurry his return. Edwina had little enough faith in the ways of men and believed that Radnor himself would speedily cure Leah's doting.

  To write, Leah found after she had obtained pens and ink from the chaplain, was not so easy. It was easy enough to pour out her hopes, her fears, and her prayers, but this she did not dare to do. She feared that her boldness in writing at all when she had not been bidden to do so would be offensive. Radnor's own terse lines also militated against freedom in her, and her short epistle, when finished, was a model of decorum. She prayed her lord excuse her boldness. She thanked her lord of his great courtesy for forgiving her weak fears. Only in the last lines did her terror peep through. A woman cares for foolish things, she wrote. Did he eat enough? Did he keep dry and warm? Did he have his wounds dressed? Humbly excusing herself for her presumption, she signed herself all obedience to him and affixed her name, for she had no seal.

  The sun, that late June, was so hot that the dank rooms of the keep were a pleasure. Leah, however, was unconscious alike of heat or cold. Tomorrow was her wedding day, and neither message nor Lord Radnor himself had arrived. The Earl of Gaunt had come, laden with baggage, the day before. He had laughed at her anxiety and assured Edwina that he had heard on business matters from his son who was quite well.

  "A little fined down, according to his man, but still worth marrying."

  Leah could do nothing, and fortunately nothing much remained to be done. She paced the battlements, straining her eyes into the distance without avail until her mother, free for a moment from greeting guests, caught her and furiously confined her to the women's quarters. Even when news came that Lord Radnor's cavalcade was in sight, Edwina did not relent.

  "Sit still," she hissed at her daughter. "Where do you go, you wanton. Will you show the whole world what you feel? Tomorrow you marry. You will see Lord Radnor enough after that, no doubt. Until then keep close. It is not fitting. Will you shame your father and myself and Lord Radnor too?"

  Submitting, because she could do nothing else, Leah clung to her mother's hand. "See if he is well. His man said— You will bring me news of him?"

  "You need have no fear," Edwina replied coldly. "I will take every care of my son-by-marriage."

  Lord Radnor was just entering the courtyard when Edwina arrived there, and already a press of the younger male guests was waiting for him. As his troop pulled their horses to a halt and the clatter of hooves died down, a clear young voice rose from the waiting crowd of men.

  "Lo! The bridegroom cometh!"

  Radnor, who was in the painful act of dismounting, swung around with a black scowl on his face, but when his eyes fell upon the slight, fair youth who had spoken, his expression cleared and he held out his hand.

  "Hereford, by all that's holy."

  The Earl of Hereford pushed his way through the laughing group and held Radnor off with one extended finger. "No," he said positively, "I will not clasp your hand nor give you the kiss of peace. The last time I took your hand, mine was numb for a week, and the last time I gave you the kiss of peace you cracked two of my ribs. Man, you are too big."

  The crowd roared with appreciation, for although Hereford was slight and pretty as a maid, he was as redoubtable a fighter as Lord Radnor and as well known. Hereford's blue eyes, so brilliant that they seemed lit by incandescent flames, flickered with merriment as he assured his friend that he would not for anything, including the assurance of admittance to heaven, have missed his wedding. As Radnor slowly unlaced and pushed back his mail hood to reveal hair plastered to his skull, rivulets of perspiration coursing down his cheeks and neck, and a face that looked like a death's head, however, the laughter gave way to an expression of concern.

  "Good God, Radnor, what ails you? Are you sick too?"

  The bloodshot, red-rimmed brown eyes suddenly fixed upon the blue ones in an agony of apprehension. "Too? What do you mean too? Who else is sick?" Radnor's hand closed on Hereford's arm in a grip that would have been excruciating had not his victim been made of bone and sinew like steel.

  Hereford shrugged. "I hear that Philip of Gloucester is sick unto death."

  "Philip? Why I saw him six months since hale and hearty. You must have heard amiss. I certainly hope you have. We can ill afford to lose such a man."

  Hereford immediately took fire. "We? We can well afford it. Don't tell me, Radnor, that you have been buried so long in Wales that you have not heard that Philip is now the king's man."

  Radnor smiled and shook his head. "So am I, Hereford, so am I. In any case, Philip is my foster-brother and I must love him."

  "That is different, and well you know it. Philip has betrayed his father as well as—"

  "Hereford, Hereford, let us not become embroiled in politics here. Let me greet my godson." This from the Earl of Chester, an older man, slightly balding, with a face that could have been noble except for its weak mouth and chin. "Allow Radnor to come in out of the heat, at least, and disarm." He held out his hand to Cain, who kissed it affectionately. "I am sorry to see you looking so worn, my boy."

  "I knew you would not fail me, sir." Radnor smiled. "Do you see if you can keep our little firebrand quenched enough so that he does not burst into flame." He put his arm across Hereford's shoulders, both for support and to quiet the impatient young man, and began to make his way towards the keep, murmuring greetings.

  "Mortimer." A handclasp and they parted.

  "Shrewsbury." A bow, a little distant.

  "Leicester." A deeper bow of respect. "I am honored that you have come so far."

  "Father-by-law." Another brief handclasp.

  The group now began to break up as the men returned to their talk and amusements. Only Hereford and the Earl of Chester accompanied Cain up the stairs to the main hall of the keep. Edwina, who had effaced herself while Radnor greeted his friends, now fell in discreetly behind them. Radnor listened a little absently to a tirade
by Hereford on the latest iniquities of Stephen while his eyes searched the hall. Leah was not there. His arm dropped from Hereford's shoulder as he saw Edwina.

  "My lords, may I have a word with my mother-to-be?"

  There was, of course, no place to be really private, but Hereford and Chester politely turned their backs and engaged each other in conversation while Radnor went up to Edwina.

  "Leah? Is she well? Where is she?

  "Very well. I pray you, my lord, let me unarm you and bathe you. You can speak to your friends while you bathe."

  "She does not come to greet me?"

  "It is not fitting."

  Radnor sat down heavily on a bench against the wall. "Yes. I know, but I would have three words with her. In your presence if you will."

  "If it is your command, Lord Radnor, of course Leah will honor it, but I beg you to bathe and change your garments at least before you see her." Edwina's voice was icy although her words were deferential. "May I order your bath?"

  Realizing that unless he issued a direct order Edwina would not permit Leah out of the women's quarters, Radnor gave up. He was not sure whether this was Leah's wish or Edwina's, and he might well have demanded his betrothed's presence to settle the question except that he was virtually sure he could not rid himself of Hereford and Chester without offence. They were obviously full of some news that they wished to impart. Cain's mouth set in a hard line.

  "Of course I will not ask anything so improper. You can never tell what harm can befall a girl to whom I am only pledged in marriage at my hands in a room full of people."

  Edwina's countenance remained perfectly immobile. "Your bath?" she repeated.

  Radnor passed his hand across his face as if to wipe away his fatigue and stood up again. "Yes, of course, but in the tower room. I like to bathe in private." Edwina curtsied low. "Stay. Send a servant to find my saddlebags. I have something I would like to give your daughter." He moved away. "My lords, I beg your pardon for the delay."

  "Radnor, you have been in the hills these months past. Do you know that Henry of Anjou will be arriving any day in England? He is—"

  "Hereford, for God's sake, keep your voice down. There are men enough here who would be glad to carry the news to anxious ears." Chester's voice was steady, but his eyes moved uneasily around the hall. "Nonetheless it is true. Come to the window where there is less chance of being overheard."

  Radnor sat down in the embrasure with a sigh that seemed to come from his gut. "Oh God," he muttered, "it is too late. It begins anew." He set his lips, but a voice inside him cried that he could bear no more just now. Now, until he was sure, at least, that he was still a man, he wanted to lie down in the dark with Leah and not concern himself with this rising; not concern himself with the ungarnered crops, the starving people, the wretches who screamed for mercy or watched hopelessly as their miserable possessions were completely destroyed by a barony drunk with lawlessness.

  "I tell you, Radnor," Hereford was saying, his eyes blazing, "that this is our best chance yet. Matilda has already gone and will not return in the immediate future. That removes the sticking point for many who hate Stephen but hate her more. And Chester has a plan—" He stopped suddenly at Chester's raised hand and quickly shaken head, and Radnor turned his tired eyes to the older man.

  "Godfather, godfather. I thought you had decided once and for all to make your peace with Stephen. Only last year … not even a year … you gave each other the kiss of peace—"

  "My boy, I have tried damned hard, but a man can swallow only so many insults. I am so watched, so slighted. Did you know that my nephew Fitz Richard is actually held at court almost as a prisoner, because he offered to stand hostage for me? Did you know that his estates—"

  Cain bit his lip and interrupted. "Have you spoken with my father?"

  It was Hereford who replied. "Radnor, you must forgive me, but your father is the damnedest, stubbornest, pigheadedest … Every ass I have ever met had a more tractable disposition." Hereford's voice had risen again with excitement, and Radnor could not help smiling.

  "Yes, I know. He is my father, after all. But I beg you, do not tell the whole castle of my shame. I gather he did not receive your notions kindly."

  "Kindly? He did not receive them at all! He would not listen to a word I said, but told me that as you were representing him at council he trusted you could make up your own mind."

  "Softly, Hereford, softly. You should not believe that because a man does not answer he does not listen. I” He turned to his approaching master-at-arms. “Oh, Giles, find that worked gold necklet set with emeralds for me. It is somewhere in that mess of stuff.” And turning back to Hereford, went on, “Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. I really think that this is not the time or the place for any political discussion."

  "But—"

  "Hereford, please! A day or two cannot change the situation.” A movement caught his eye and he looked at his man. “Yes, that is what I wanted. All right, Giles, I am sorry I broke your rest. Look, my lords." He held up a chain of heavy gold links chased into the form of serpents with highly polished emerald eyes.

  "Very pretty, very costly. What are you going to do with it?"

  "My wedding present to my bride. But you are wrong, Chester, for it cost nothing." He looked up and saw Edwina approaching with the maidservants. "We do not seem to have a moment's peace, but some day I will tell you how I came by it. Madam," he continued, rising and turning to Edwina, "I take it my bath is ready. I thank you. You need not trouble yourself further about me; I will go up and serve myself. I know the way. Do me the favor, instead, to take this to Leah. It is her wedding gift from me. I hope she will wear it tomorrow."

  "A rich gift for a maid so young."

  Cain opened his mouth to say something, remembering the listening ears, and shut it again. Edwina's animosity puzzled him. "It cost nothing except a little of my blood, and that is cheap enough. Bid her wear it."

  "She will be wearing silver, my lord, the gold will not be—"

  "Madam, enough! Do you see that Leah obeys my command without more ado." Radnor turned away, his face flushed with anger. "Women," he said to Hereford and Chester, "if you say a gentle word, they will have mastery in everything."

  Hereford laughed loud and long. "The pains of being an only son. I may have troubles with my brothers, but I marry as I choose—and when. At least there are brothers to follow if I do not choose. You, alas, must father an heir; therefore, lo, the bridegroom cometh."

  Radnor flushed hotly. Hereford's sally had pricked him on the raw. To father a son was indeed the crux of his problem. He hitched at his sword belt impatiently and pulled at the armhole of his mail shirt.

  "How this armor binds! My lord of Chester, give me leave to go and unarm and bathe. Hereford, let me be or—or I will set Gloucester on to press for your marriage and make you sing another tune."

  "Go, child, by all means," Chester said kindly. "Nay, I can never seem to remember, you are long since a man, Radnor. How inconsiderate of us to keep you. Are you well? You are red one moment, pale the next, and you look like death."

  "To speak the truth, I am so weary I know not how I am. Godfather, on this matter of Henry of Anjou, I pray you to do nothing until we can speak together in a better place and when my mind is clear. Hereford, I promise you that I will listen to anything you have to say. Indeed, I must leave you. My bath will be cold. We rode through last night for I was fearful of missing my day, and I am asleep on my feet."

  Radnor kissed Chester's hand again and shook his head at Hereford's offer to accompany him. When they left he limped wearily up the stairs clinging to the rough stone walls of the narrow circular staircase for support. Memories were so strong in the tower room that he stopped, short of breath. Everything was familiar—the chair before the now dead fire, the scent of herbs in the room; only what Radnor longed for most was missing. He undressed and slipped into the tub, nearly fainting as the odorous warmth encompassed him. For a while he lay, half
conscious in the water, but finally roused himself sufficiently to bathe.

  No beds had yet been made up in the room, but Radnor found rugs in one of the chests which he threw on the floor. Wrapping his naked body in still another rug, he lay down on the floor and was instantly asleep. It was true that he had not reached the goal of his desiring, but its nearness soothed him instead of making him more eager and restless. For the first time in months, Lord Radnor slid into an absolutely dreamless sleep.

  He slept through all the noise and flurry of receiving last-minute guests, wakening quietly when dinner was long over. He stretched luxuriously in his first sleep-dazed moments, filled with a blissful ease, a feeling of being at home, but soon enough sat up and looked for his clothes because he was cold. Even on a hot June day the earth-filled stone walls of the tower sweated moisture and the room was damp.

  Someone had been at work while he slept; the bath was gone as were the filthy garments he had dropped on the floor. Instead, neatly laid over the chair were the clothes his father had brought from Painscastle except that they had obviously received some recent attention. The linen shirt had been scoured to a whiteness it had not had since new, and the red tunic, red chausses, grey serge gown and grey cross-garters were carefully matched. Radnor smiled. So neatly arrayed he would be a shock to his friends who were accustomed to seeing him in garments that were ill-matched and ill cared for.

  He was feeling better but was conscious of a great weariness not due to physical causes, a weariness of the soul. What was it that was so unpleasant that he had to do? Good Lord, Chester and Hereford, that was it; but first he had to see Philip of Gloucester. A sudden qualm of anxiety seized him. Had not Hereford told him that Philip was sick? Did that mean that Philip had not come?

  At the entrance to the hall, Lord Radnor looked cautiously about. He had no desire to be seized upon by his godfather or his hot-headed young friend. No, they were out, it seemed, but Pembroke was in conversation with Shrewsbury. Radnor felt distaste, even knowing he should have expected it. It was wonderful how old saws always were true, and here were two birds of a feather flocking together. If it were not for the greater dower, he never would have consented to the alliance. But then he had not known Leah. One had to take the bitter with the better and father went with daughter. Radnor moved forward to accost his future father-by-marriage.