Bond of Blood

by Roberta Gellis

  Leah turned again to Lady William, and she must have continued to behave in a normal fashion for no one paid any exceptional attention to her. If her life depended on it, however, she could not have recounted another thing that happened that night except for two facts that stood out with the brilliance of suns against the pervading darkness. One was that Harry Beaufort came to take her home, and the other that her husband smelled of a strange, musky odor when he fell into bed hours later.

  The next morning Radnor left to accompany the royal hunt before Leah got up. She had been conscious of his rising and leaving, but she pretended sleep and, to her great chagrin, he did not disturb her. Leah went to church and spent two hours on her knees praying for patience and circumspection, but it did her little good. Another insult arrived via Giles after she had held dinner back two hours waiting for her lord. This was a hurried note in Radnor's own hand to say, without excuse, that he was dining with the hunt and did not know when he would arrive at home. "Tell Lady Radnor not to worry," was scrawled across the bottom. Leah was so frozen with fury because he had not the courtesy to write to her direct that she had to try three times to speak before she was able to whisper, "Thank you, that is all," to the master-of-arms.

  She was still awake and fully dressed when Radnor finally came in, even though the false dawn was already lighting the sky. His voice reached her first as he paused halfway up the stairs to answer a ribald jest about his late return made by one of the men he had awakened, and he was still laughing when he entered the room. He stopped when he saw Leah, and the laughter changed to a gentler smile.

  "You had no need to wait up for me. I remembered this time to send you word I was safe." He came forward, reaching out for her. "But I am glad you did. I have missed you in this long day."

  "Do not touch me!" Leah shrank back, pressing herself into her chair.

  "What?"

  "Do not touch me. Do not come near me."

  Radnor stood still, one hand still extended towards his wife, his expression one of genuine puzzlement. In the dim light he could not see Leah's face, but it was apparent there was something seriously wrong. "What is the matter, Leah? I know I must stink to heaven after a day's hunt, but yesterday you were not so nice."

  "It is the smell of lechery I cannot bear, not the odor of honest sweat."

  Cain stood perfectly still, too stunned by what his wife had dared to say to him to be angry, and Leah jumped from her chair to seize and throw the box of Gaunt jewels on the bed. "Here, take them back," she cried, tugging at her betrothal ring, "and take this too, and go and buy what you want. Mayhap I am with child already and you need not trouble yourself with me any more."

  So many conflicting emotions whirled about in Cain that he continued to stand like a statue for another minute. Then he laughed, picked Leah's ring from the bed, and held it out to her. Amusement, relief, and pride had come out as the uppermost emotions. He was relieved because her jealous rage was so sincere, proud that she cared enough for him to be jealous, and amused that her jealousy could so enrage her gentle nature.

  "Put this ring back on, and do not act like a silly goose." She slapped his hand away. Still laughing, Cain attempted to take her into his arms, and she struck out at him, her hands beating harmlessly against his mailed strength. "Be careful," he said, laughing harder, "you will hurt yourself." He bent to kiss her and Leah scratched his face and bit him; exasperation began to temper his amusement. "Leah, do not be so foolish. It was nothing. I cared nothing for that woman."

  "Nor for me either," she shrieked. "How do you think I felt? Not two weeks married and you rise from my side to go with a whore—before my very face—in the sight of my eyes!" Leah gasped for breath but continued before Cain could answer her. "You can have her or those like her, or me. I, for one, will not be coupled in harness. I will not lie with you to take the leavings of every slut in the street."

  At that he hit her. It was barely a tap from his great strength, but it sent Leah crashing to the floor several feet away. Pain and humiliation broke her rage, and a storm of tears swept over her.

  "I, no more than your father, will be said nay in my own household. You have taken one too many liberties with me. Now get up and come over here or I will break every bone in your body. Help me out of these clothes, and keep your tongue between your teeth while you do it."

  Wrapped in his old homespun robe, Cain went to the sideboard and poured wine to drink. Leah stood with her head buried in her arms, leaning on the high-backed armchair, sobbing and shuddering. He looked at the pitiful figure she made, and remorse overwhelmed him. He had been wrong to go after that dancer right in front of her; she was only a child and did not understand such things.

  "Leah—" She started and cowered at hearing his voice so close. "I pray you," Cain said softly, "weep no more. I am sorry I struck you." He put a hand on her shoulder and she shook convulsively. The hand dropped away, and Lord Radnor looked at his wife helplessly. The tears were a weapon against which he had no defences; he could not bear them.

  "Leah, come and sit beside me. I will do you no more hurt. I only wish to speak to you."

  Her obedience was prompt; she would not tempt his anger again. They sat together on the bed, and when he put his arm around her she made no move, but her body, swayed against his, was lifeless, lacking its usual warm yielding.

  "Look you, you are my wife, I must needs care for you," Cain began, making matters worse by implying that it was only because she was his wife that he thought of her.

  He turned her face up to his with a hand under her chin. There was blood on her mouth, and her lip had begun to swell where her teeth had cut it when the blow fell. Cain swallowed to relieve the constriction in his throat.

  "Truly, I cared nothing for her. I was only curious because of her dark skin, and because of the music." He stroked Leah's hair and her unbruised cheek. "Do not weep so, my love. I did wrong. I should not have gone to her in that hall while you were watching. I did not think. I am not used to being married." If it was a lie, it was in a good cause.

  Mute and frigid, moved only by her occasional sobs, Leah sat unresponding in the circle of her husband's arm. Cain rubbed his face. He understood now why so many men gave in to what he had previously felt were unreasonable demands by their wives. He had called them doting, but he was ready to do anything or say anything himself to win a spontaneous response from Leah. Any man could beat his wife into submission, but what good was what was left when the spirit fled? Truly a whore was as good as the lifeless doll that sat beside him and obeyed out of fear.

  "Go, get you to bed," he sighed. "I will sleep elsewhere this night. If you feel the same tomorrow … Well … I do not know …" Cain's voice was defeated and his shoulders had a discouraged slump that no fatigue could give them. He rose to go.

  A pang of pure terror shot through Leah. Her madness had driven him away. If he left her, she would have no one in the whole world. "My lord." She could scarcely whisper, she was so choked with tears. "Wait, please wait. I have done wrong, not you. Or, at least, what you have done is between you and God. I have no right to check you. Do not leave me."

  Radnor frowned. "Now what does this mean?"

  "Do not frown at me any more," Leah cried, beginning to sob violently again. This time, however, she flung her arms around her husband's neck and hid her face in his shoulder. "I will misspeak you no more, my lord. I am sorry, my lord."

  "My love, dear heart, do not weep any longer. I am the one who will do so no more. I swear, I will never cast even my eyes upon another woman. The bitch was not worth one of your tears to me, no, nor is the greatest lady in the land. Leah—"

  He sat down and took her on to his lap, leaning back on the headboard so that she lay against his breast. What a fool he had been to try such a trick upon an innocent, perhaps giving her the notion to pay him back in his own coin, perhaps shaking her faith in him so that she would seek other forms of revenge. He redoubled his attempts to soothe her, whispering assuranc
es of future fidelity and present affection.

  Leah, regaining quiet in her husband's fond embrace, slowly realized that she had won the battle between them. True, she had started out with no specific purpose in mind. Driven only by her wounded pride and her jealousy, she had first lashed out blindly at what hurt her and then yielded to her fear. The rage had won her nothing—but the tears! From them came an assurance that she would be hurt thus no more, but far more important than that assurance was the knowledge that with this man tears and meek words could be both weapons and armor.

  Chapter 14

  Sometime before Leah and Lord Radnor had exchanged their first angry words, Lord Hereford had reluctantly opened his eyes in response to being brutally shaken and slapped. His head ached abominably and his mouth tasted as if a cat had littered in it, but his strongest emotion was amazement—first at being slapped by anyone and then, before he could be angry, at the fact that his squire was weeping.

  "Thank God! Thank God!"

  The voice was that of Alan of Evesham, his master-of-arms, and it was choked with sobs. Still more incomprehensible and even revolting was the fact that Alan was hugging him in what appeared to be a passionate embrace. Hereford thrust him away and turned to his squire.

  "William, pull this madman off me," he said thickly. "What ails you both?"

  "We thought you were dying," William replied.

  "Dying? You are mad. Why should I die when I am not ill?"

  "My lord, we have been trying to waken you since yesterday dawn."

  "Yesterday !" Hereford gasped, sitting bolt upright. "Where is Pembroke?"

  "Gone, at dawn yesterday. That is why we tried to waken you," Alan said. "Lord Pembroke said you had drunk too much and should be left to sleep it off, but I knew you had come here with some purpose other than to welcome him and I tried to tell you."

  Hereford's complexion was already green with nausea and could not change, but he got unsteadily to his feet as memory returned to him. He had found Pembroke late in the evening of the day he started from court and had ridden into his camp followed only by a few of his men. Pretending intense surprise, Hereford had confessed to an amorous assignation in the neighborhood and had inquired what brought Pembroke so close to London. Pembroke was not much disconcerted by Hereford's arrival; he was annoyed because he had intended to send for Radnor to try another method of disposing of him. Nonetheless the excuse prepared for Radnor would serve excellently for Hereford.

  "What could bring me but trouble?" Pembroke asked in an aggrieved tone. "I came for two most excellent reasons. The first was to warn you and Chester that someone has betrayed us."

  It could be true. Hereford wished it were true, but it was peculiar that Philip of Gloucester, who was surely a very sick man to whom traveling was a painful effort, had managed to come first with the warning. If the matter was so urgent that Pembroke would not trust it to a messenger, why was he comfortably camped not a day's ride from the town?

  "I am very grateful," the young earl said, trying desperately to conceal his suspicion. "You show yourself most comfortably our friend by this care for our well-doing. I hope it is not too late, for Chester, as you know, has already spoken to the king. Nonetheless, perhaps Lord Radnor can convince Stephen that the betrayer lies. All may yet be well."

  "You do not understand," Pembroke added impatiently, "Radnor will be no help to you at all. Philip has convinced him that Henry's cause is hopeless. You will see. Lord Radnor—and I shame to say it of my son-by-marriage—will lift no finger. I do not say he would betray you himself. To be sure, he loves you and Chester well and has probably done his uttermost to convince you to abandon this cause. If you are in danger of falling, however, he will turn his head aside from you and leave you to your fate."

  For a moment Hereford's senses reeled. It was all so likely and so logical. As a matter of fact, it fitted perfectly with what Radnor had said to him.

  "My dear Hereford," Pembroke murmured solicitously, "you look dreadfully pale. I will call for a cup of wine for you."

  "Thank you. I cannot say it will come amiss."

  Pembroke went out, pretending to call his servant, and Hereford was left alone with his thoughts. Logical or not, to say that Cain would let any friend of his be destroyed without making an effort to save him was nonsense. Perhaps that only showed that Pembroke did not understand his son-by-marriage, but the matter was too dangerous to gamble on. Whether he meant well or ill, Pembroke must go no further towards London until his purposes were absolutely clear. Hereford decided that after he had drunk his wine and talked for a while he would make some excuse to stay the night in Pembroke's camp.

  "Here, my boy," Pembroke pressed a goblet into Hereford's hand. "Do not be so distressed. For you, at least, all is not lost. If you will but follow my advice, you will be safe no matter what befalls Chester."

  "Safe!" Hurriedly Hereford took a swallow of wine to stop his own lips.

  "Certainly." Pembroke had nothing to gain from Hereford's fall and nothing against the young man personally. If he could do Hereford a good turn and at the same time further his own plans, so much the better. "It will be no trouble to spread about the tale that you knew not Chester's true intentions, that you never believed he wished to depose the king and believed he really wanted Stephen to bring an army to fight the Welsh. You would not easily believe ill of Chester, no matter what others said against him. That will be your defence for clinging to him so long. When, at last, you became convinced of his desire to commit treason, you can tell everyone you quarreled with him and parted company."

  Hereford turned quite green with sickness. His hand closed over the hilt of his poniard so tight that the jeweled handle marked his fingers. Pembroke looked intently at him, but Hereford felt that if he opened his mouth to comment he would vomit. Perspiration beaded out on his temples with his effort to control himself, but strangely, in spite of his fixed attention, Pembroke did not seem to notice.

  "I have thought of the perfect way for you to bring conviction to the minds of those who might doubt you also. On which side of the tourney do you fight?"

  Determinedly Hereford swallowed his gorge. "I fight with the barons of the west and north, as I always have. Why do you ask what you know?"

  "Because I think that under the circumstances you would do better to change sides. So bold a move would certainly convince everyone that you wished to be dissociated from any of Chester's plots."

  "Perhaps," Hereford choked. "I can consider it at least."

  "Drink up your wine, Hereford," Pembroke urged. "It will put heart into you."

  Hereford choked again, bit his lip, and tried to lie. "Nay, my heart does not fail, for you have given me hope." He drank more wine to give himself a moment to marshal his thoughts, then said, "It would not be well for you to appear in this. Our meeting was most fortunate, for now I can carry the news of this betrayal to Chester. Perhaps he will be convinced and try to find some means to save himself, especially if I tell him that I will not stand by him in it." To conceal both his face and the fact that he had nearly strangled over the words, Hereford quickly drained the goblet to the dregs. "You too should consider your own safety, and remain as far from Chester as possible. Go, therefore, back to your own lands, and leave the rest to me."

  "I wish I could," Pembroke sighed, "but I told you I came for two excellent reasons, and we have only talked of the first. I will be happy to leave warning Chester to you, but I must go to London anyway. I must have speech with Radnor. I have learned that the queen plans to steal my daughter from him and use her as a hostage for our doing of her will."

  "What?" Hereford said stupidly, feeling very dizzy. "How could you learn such a thing? When does she plan this?"

  "I have friends at court who send me word of this and that," Pembroke said caustically, "but Maud does not tell all to anyone. I would suppose she would try when Radnor's attention was completely diverted. For myself, I would guess that there can be no better time than while Radnor f
ights in the tourney. You know he can see and hear nothing when he is fighting. The Queen will take Leah then, for he came with such a small force of men that he will not have sufficient to protect her. I will be there, however, and hold her safe."

  Those were the last words Hereford remembered clearly. It seemed to him now that he had attempted to get to his feet and that the ground had heaved beneath them. It seemed also, but very vaguely, that Pembroke had exclaimed with surprise on his inability to hold his wine and, when he could not rise, had come to help him with expressions of concern.

  "Saddle our horses and let us go," Hereford now said bleakly to Alan. He and Chester were lost anyway, but perhaps there was time to warn Radnor.

  The sodden sleep of emotional exhaustion was broken by the pounding of a sword hilt on the oak door. "Radnor, it is Hereford. Do not let fly at me, I'm coming in."

  "Wait a minute."

  "Cover your accursed wife. I will not rape her with my eyes. I have not got a minute." He burst in, muddied and disheveled.

  "You fool, what has my wife to do with it? Get out and let me put my shoes on." Cain sheathed the drawn sword that was lying in his lap when he saw that the intruder was Hereford alone.

  "There is no need. I want your head, not your sword arm. Stay where you are. Only tell the woman to go."

  "My head is already forfeit to her—why not yours too? Let her stay. You are damned already by her seeing you here in this case at this time of morning. Now, what the devil has happened?"

  "As Philip said, the fat is in the fire. Chester is lost, and I with him. Pembroke slipped the leash."

  "How?" Cain yawned and rubbed his head, ruffling his black hair until it stood on end. "I thought surely you had him safe when you did not return last night or early morning."

  "Fool that I am! Dolt! Dunce!"

  "What happened? Never mind what you are."