Bond of Blood

by Roberta Gellis

  "Have I turned green of a sudden?"

  "No, oh no. I was only looking at you."

  "So I see, and I at you. But why?"

  "I do not know. Because you are, all of a sudden, so—" she paused seeking for words, looking into his face and then down at his body again, "So—beautiful."

  It was the wrong word, singularly inappropriate for that powerful masculine frame so marred with the scars of war, and yet no other word could describe her feeling. Cain stared in amazement, thinking it an unkind joke, but it was so unlike Leah to taunt him that he could almost believe she meant it. Could it be true that for her, just now anyway, he was beautiful?

  "Before," he began hesitantly, and watched Leah blush, "what did I do?"

  She dropped her head so that her face was hidden by her falling hair. "I do not know."

  "Were you hurt or pleased—or unwilling? I heard you cry out, but I could do nothing then."

  "I do not know," she repeated stubbornly.

  "Look at me."

  Her eyes were strange under heavy lids, filled with a sort of wondering recollection. Cain's tension began to dissolve although she did not return his questioning look for long. Her eyes returned to his body, irresistibly drawn, and he felt drained by that gaze, as if he would turn all to fluid.

  "I wish … " Leah murmured dreamily, slowly lifting her hand, "may I touch you?"

  Cain released a shuddering sigh. "As you will, so do with me."

  It was a complete novelty for him to lie still under her exploring hands, a novelty and a revelation to them both, for he learned something from her surprise and she learned much from his reactions. In the end his reticence was broken, and he groaned and writhed. Leah did not smile, for her face was rigid with her own rising passion, but a deep sense of power grew within her. So might a man be tamed. So. And so. She had pushed him too far, however, and he was finished almost before he started, leaving her, for she now knew what culmination was, dissatisfied.

  "You did not wait for me," she cried, and he heard her through the numbness of his satisfaction.

  Leah's protest was unintentional; she hardly knew she uttered it. Indeed, had she thought about what that instinctive cry should teach her husband, she would have bitten out her tongue before she gave vent to it. In the first instant of hearing, the words had no meaning to Radnor, but as he lifted himself, he caught a glance at his wife's face. Her fleeting expression of frustration recalled to him others, and her words suddenly gained significance.

  Cain's relationships with women had always been largely unsatisfactory, and he had a secret envy of men like Hereford who seemed to be able to hold the most avaricious women in thrall with nothing but their persons. He had blamed the women for dishonesty of purpose and dismissed the matter with the belief that none of them had ever cared for him. It had needed a woman with an innocence equal to his ignorance in this matter to put into plain words the explanation for his repeated failures as a lover. Cain blinked, drew in his breath sharply, and allowed himself to sink down on Leah's breast. He would not make that mistake again, and he could rectify it this time, but how did Leah know a man could wait? Had she looked abroad for someone else to fill her craving?

  Leah understood very quickly what she had gained and what she had lost. She would not again need to suffer the misery of unfulfilled desire; she had learned ways to tempt Cain and increase his pleasure, and that would help her hold him, but she had taught him what a woman desired. Would he now be tempted himself to try his power upon others?

  Not yet, certainly not while he still desired to breed with her. For the present, at least, all his attention would be bent upon providing himself with an heir. Leah sighed and shifted her husband's heavy head on her shoulder.

  Leah's plan to establish Hereford's innocence functioned as if charmed. Hereford walked into the trap all unaware, and amidst the ravings of Lady Gertrude, the icy-eyed affront of Elizabeth, the ill-concealed amusement of the watching ladies and gentlemen, and his own inability to explain or deny, he gave as genuine an exhibition of chagrin and embarrassment as could be desired. Leah went home from the White Tower, where she had stayed to see the outcome of her plotting, to relate the whole graphically to Lord Radnor. She was rewarded by his smile and nod of satisfaction.

  "You were right," he said. "It is better this way than for Hereford to make the excuse."

  Suddenly he began to laugh, realizing that Hereford, who was so often guilty of seduction and infidelity and so clever at soothing women and wriggling out of situations, was finally being brought to account. It was only just that he should be found guilty on the one occasion when he was actually innocent.

  "I will roast him,” he gasped. “My God, how I will roast him."

  "No, you cannot, my lord," Leah protested. "How could you hear about it? Remember he did not see me for fear he should guess."

  "It does not matter. I will seek out someone at court who will tell me the story anew. I could not meet his eye now without—" Then he collapsed, bent double in his chair, laughing until he hiccupped. "But the cream of the jest is still coming. I am sorry you will miss it, Leah, for you certainly deserve to see the flowering of the seed you sowed. Briefly, it is this. At council they will ask him to name the woman so as to give witness, and he will refuse—nobly risking his life to shield her honor. Then the eyes of those lords will turn inward and from side to side. 'My wife?' they will think, 'his?' Every man living within a day's ride who was not in his own bed that night—and with the feast, how many were?—will burn with the torments of the damned, and not a few will look cross-eyed at blonde children born nine moons from now. Oh, merrily we go along—merrily, merrily. By the time this is done there will be as many knives out for Hereford's ribs as for mine." Cain glanced at his wife and added hastily, "For a different reason, Leah."

  He bent again, still chuckling occasionally, over the task that had occupied him all that afternoon. He was setting the edge on his long-sword. Technically this was a task for the armorer, but Cain loved the weapon, a remarkably fine one which had been his father's gift to him upon his knighting, and he allowed no one else to touch it. The room was warm and he sat in the full light of the window, naked to the waist. Sunlight flickered through now and again as the June breeze moved the leaves of the shade trees outside. It gleamed in little flashes on the sweat-shining skin covering biceps knotting and relaxing in the regular rhythm of drawing stone against steel. Head bowed, thickening the strong column of the neck, shoulders hunched a little, Cain was the living image of quiescent power. With his scarred face hidden, he was a sight to stir any woman's blood, and his wife was no exception.

  Made restless by her steadfast stare, Cain looked up. "For the. tourney," he said, pointing the sharpening stone at the sword. "I will do you proud, Leah. I have ordered a new hauberk and helm to he beautiful as well as successful, and my shield is to be all new-painted. Thus will I grace the new surcoat you were kind enough to prepare."

  A mixture of pride and fear, liberally salted with desire, shook her. Leah came up behind Radnor and laid her hands on his back to feel the play of the muscles under her fingers. "You look forward to the tournament, my lord?"

  "Yes and no. Mayhap I will learn more of the queen's purposes, but taking that necessity away, sometimes I think that a man who fights in earnest as much as I should have a lighter sport. All we do for pleasure means killing—hunting, hawking— The jousting is but practice for the same with man." He sat up and leaned back against his wife; her hands slid down over his shoulders to comb through the hair on his chest. "But what else can a man do? To sit too long over the chess board or draughts makes the muscles twitch to be up and doing. At Painscastle I read. The monks of the abbey are kind enough to lend me their books and some I have had copied myself, but that too is restless work for a strong young man."

  "But my father and the queen … Are you not like to be hurt in this rough play?"

  Cain stared ahead. Was Leah trying to warn him? Did she know and
wish to speak openly but fear to do so? "No doubt I will be bruised and banged about. The more I think on it the more I cannot believe that anyone does more than hope for an accident." Perhaps his seeming carelessness would make her speak out. "I only pray I have not forgot my skill with the lance. It is long and long, nigh on a year, since I have truly used one. You are, I suppose, in better favor up Above than I, being more innocent. Send up a few prayers that I may not be ignominiously laid in the dust on the first course."

  "I wish I were as sure you would come to no harm as I am that your skill is unimpaired. Oh, Cain," her hands tightened, the sharp nails scratching his bare breast a little, "for all you say, my heart misgives me about this tourney."

  "You are too fearful, Leah. Such are life's chances. Where would be the sport if there were no danger? Would you rather I were like William of Gloucester, scented and oiled with hands as soft and white as a woman's?"

  "No, oh no. I must be proud of my lord. Only … is it needful to go beyond the jousts for which you are champion and fight in the melee?"

  Cain laughed. "Not needful, no. I doubt my ability to stop, though, once the heat of fighting is upon me. It is like drink, Leah. The more you take the more you want, until at last a sickness overcomes you." He paused, but she still said nothing. Suddenly Cain did not want her to speak. "In any case it is not something I could give over because of your fears. Next you would be afraid for me to go into battle to guard my lands. What would become of us then?"

  "I would be afraid. Indeed, I am afraid of everything you do, of every minute you are out of my sight, but I would not say a word against your duty. I would rather urge you to it, in spite of my fear, than keep you from it. But is this tourney your duty?"

  Why would she not leave the subject? Would she be so insistent if she did not know there was a plot to kill him? It was natural for a woman to be timid, and Leah was afraid of her father. Did the warnings mean that she knew but was not party to the plot?

  "Ay," Cain said, "I can just see you with the stern expression of Athena—a pagan goddess of whom you know nothing urging me, I the meanwhile all trembling with fear, out to fall upon my enemies."

  The words were totally unrelated to his thoughts, spoken because he had planned to say them as a further diversion. In another revulsion of feeling he grasped her hands to pull her further forward and turned his head over his shoulder to ask outright what she knew. There were tears sparkling on Leah's lashes, and all Cain could do was kiss her. Now he would never ask because he did not want to know. Leah was a little surprised at the tightness of his grip. She was not at all reluctant; Cain had no need to hold her to make her mouth cling to his.

  Chapter 15

  The Earl of Pembroke bowed low over Maud's hand in a quiet, well-guarded little house very near the White Tower. "I am most comfortable here, madam, thank you, and I am grateful for the guard you set about me, but I do not completely understand it."

  "You do not understand?" Maud sounded surprised. "You told me that you had met Hereford, warned him that Chester would be betrayed, and you are surprised that I guard you. Can you not guess that Hereford will run straight to Radnor, and that Radnor will convince him that you, and not Philip, are to speak out against the traitor? I can easily arrange that Philip will back your accusation of Chester so that you need not fear to bear the blame alone, but for now if Hereford and Chester believe you guilty, doubtless they will try to find you and kill you."

  Pembroke turned pale and Maud dropped her eyes to hide the laughter she was afraid might show in them. "I am sure they will never suspect," Pembroke replied. "It is true that I dosed Hereford's drink, but it was only a drop and should do no more than give him a sound night's sleep." A worried frown crossed Pembroke's face. "It did act too quickly though, I hope—" The frown cleared. "At worst it will kill him, and since no man can say that Hereford ate or drank aught with me—I went for the wine and dosed it myself—no harm can come of that."

  As annoyed as she was with Pembroke, for Hereford's fall, not his death, was an integral part of her plans, Maud's voice was smooth and unconcerned. "In any case, you will be safe here. Nonetheless it is most unfortunate that Radnor will not go to you as planned. I begin to believe that he is of the devil's brood. Nothing seems to harm him. He came clean away at Oxford, and now this escape … You know that without his lands it will be impossible for the king to go through Wales in peace and knock on Gloucester's back door. If my husband cannot do that, there is little profit for us in giving Fitz Richard's lands to you."

  "You need not concern yourself, madam. My plan for the tourney cannot fail. He would naturally be on his guard in Oxford's keep. We both knew that and I tried because there was nothing to lose. It was ill luck that Hereford heard of my coming and met me first. I had a message so prepared that Radnor would not have failed to come to me. I could not send it, of course, because he might well have known that Hereford intended to go. Curse that boy's long tongue."

  "But Oxford has a long tongue too, and he is acting for you in the arrangements for the tourney."

  "Yes." Pembroke laughed. "And who will believe him no matter what he tells the men he hires. All know what Radnor did in Oxford's keep. Think how foolish Oxford will seem if he says that I, Radnor's father-by-marriage, gave him gold to hire assassins. What purpose could I have for so mad an act when Radnor's father is yet alive?"

  "That is true, but this plan must work. We must be rid of him before the council. I fear his influence with the Marcher lords, and I greatly fear that he has a plan to steal Hereford and Chester away from the court if there is an accusation. Once they reach their own lands, there will be no holding them. I hope you are sure of what you do, for your danger will be greater than mine if they are not taken."

  "It cannot fail."

  Pembroke smiled his assurance at her, and Maud offered her hand again to be kissed and left. The smile began to fade from Pembroke's face, and then grew broader. Radnor would die in the tourney most certainly, but Maud might not approve of the manner of his going. Did she think him such a fool as to put himself completely in her power? He too needed a weapon in reserve, and he had it in the way his plans were laid. First he had sent a warning to Oxford that the queen had bribed some of Oxford's men to murder Radnor, pleading that his son-by-marriage be kept safe. Then, pretending to be terrified by the queen's threats and grief-stricken at what he was forced to do, he had come to Oxford to arrange Radnor's death in the tourney. Oxford was very happy to make the arrangements, hating Radnor, but if the queen had not tried to use his keep as a place to assassinate her enemy he would have been saved much hurt. He did not mind keeping Pembroke's name out of it and hinting to the men he hired that when they accomplished their purpose they would find favor in high places. Maud will play no tricks on me, Pembroke said to himself, having already arranged both the kidnapping of Leah and a way out of the well-guarded little house, and went to his dinner with excellent appetite.

  The Earl of Gaunt was also thinking of the royal tourney, but he was not eating his dinner with appetite. He was staring sightlessly across the great hall of Radnor Castle. Sir Robert had died that morning. He had not died easily or quickly, but he had told all he knew of Pembroke's plans before he was granted that merciful oblivion. It was true that Sir Robert could not, or would not, give any details; it did not matter. Gaunt did not need to be told that the easiest way to murder a man and conceal the fact of murder was during a tourney. His messenger had been sent off some hours before, carrying all that he knew or guessed to warn Cain, but Gaunt's mind would not clear. He sat toying with his food, telling himself that Cain was old enough to care for his own interests and could be trusted to take adequate precautions.

  "Old fool," he muttered angrily, paring a sliver of meat from the roast before him and putting it into his mouth, "what is there to consider? He has faced worse danger on the field before. He managed that business at Oxford Castle well—if a little too thoroughly. It is more needful to keep the land quiet than
to worry over one man's life in any case."

  For whom do I keep the land quiet, he wondered, the well-flavored and succulent meat sticking like dry dust in his throat. I am almost three-score years, and except for him there is no one, not even a cousin of Welsh blood. So the estate, whole and peaceful, will pass to his murderer or to the king. Nonsense! Cain will return as he always has. He will find some excuse not to fight or he will find some way to guard himself. He is no fool. The old man laughed aloud harshly. To think of Cain trying to find an excuse not to fight was as ridiculous as thinking of his trying to fly. Besides, what excuse could he find? To say that his father-by-marriage was conspiring to assassinate him would make him a laughingstock, and to admit that he would not: fight for that reason would brand him a coward. I alone could stop him, Gaunt thought.

  He rose restlessly and paced to the nearest window, noting the position of the sun and counting the hours that remained. Sending another messenger would be useless. Probably Cain would pay no attention since only his own safety was at stake. Even if Cain should wish to obey, he had not sufficient men with him to fight his way free of the city, and to leave it peacefully at such a time was impossible. With Chester's plot widely known and Henry of Anjou rumored to be coming, Maud was not likely to leave unwatched any man who was not devoted to her heart and soul. Cain could not even approach one of the London gates without giving warning of his intentions.

  Gaunt tapped his knuckles against the frame of the window.

  The sky was serenely blue, investing the turbid waters of the moat with a wholly false appearance of clarity. The meadows, cleared from the surrounding forest, sloped gently away from the walls and cattle fed peacefully upon the good grass. Along the track leading to the drawbridge, a carter urged his oxen in a monotonous singsong. A rich land, a good land, a land worth defending. The tapping fist came down with a crash that brought blood to Gaunt's knuckles and startled the men-at-arms.