Chapter 1
Edwina, Lady Pembroke, looked with pleasure on her daughter who was teaching a maidservant to spin. It was the twenty-fifth day of April in the year 1147, and Leah was just fifteen years old that day. Her figure was entering its first blossom, and even the ill-cut homespun gown revealed high young breasts, a narrow waist, and rounded hips. She was not a great beauty, but to her mother's intense pleasure she had kept the fair hair and white skin of her childhood, and her large eyes had long silky lashes that she used unconsciously with great effect. The girl's gentle manner and soft sweet voice also had great charm, but Edwina felt that these would be wasted on a hard man so much older than her daughter.
"Do you know that you are fifteen today, Leah?"
"Of course I know it, Mother."
"Well, I have come to tell you something of great importance. In a few weeks you will be married."
The spindle dropped from the girl's fingers. "To whom, Mama?"
"To Cain, Lord Radnor, son to the Earl of Gaunt. Do not ask questions now, child. Dress yourself in the blue sarcenet bliaut and the tan tunic and come to the hall. His lordship wishes to see you."
Leah stood up obediently, but she was powerless to follow her mother's commands. She had dreamt, like all girls, of marriage; dreamt of a home much as her mother had described, where there was peace and happiness, where she would be her husband's "lady" and life would be one long alternation of fairs and tourneys. But Leah was fifteen now and knew that those were dreams, not life. No knight had come to court her, to ask for her sleeve to carry as a favor. Dream knights, knights one heard the minstrels sing of, or knights that one read about in a rare romance borrowed from the convent or monastery, did such things. Real marriage was a hard fact; her life itself might depend upon her husband's whim, and there would be no mother to hide her and protect her.
"Leah!" Edwina's voice was sharp. "Dress quickly and bite your lips before you come down. They are white and you look sickly. This is no time to be a silly chit."
She saw, however, that the timid girl was shocked, and called the maids to help her. Leah was the one great passion in Edwina's life, the one person she really loved, and she longed to tell her not to be frightened. No matter what kind of monster Cain of Radnor was, Leah would not need to endure him long. Doubtless if Pembroke's plans succeeded, Leah would be a widow very soon after she became a wife. Edwina did not offer the assurance; Leah was too young. She would not be able to behave naturally with the man if she knew she was to be the bait that would draw him to his death.
Leah's homespun gown was cast aside and in its place a soft wool tunic of tan, high-necked and long-sleeved, was pulled over her head. This was followed by a blue bliaut that the girls laced as tight as possible at the sides to pull in the waist still further. The underclothes and shoes they left alone for it was unlikely, though not impossible, that Leah would be asked to undress. Finally they pushed her, trembling, down the stairs, coming to the foot themselves to peer curiously into the hall. On the last step Leah remembered her mother's order and bit her soft lips until the blood came back to them. She came into the hall slowly, with downcast eyes as she had been trained to do, although she was quivering with curiosity as she walked to the fireplace.
"Drink up, drink up," the Earl of Pembroke was saying, and then as he saw her, "Ah, here she is. Look up, girl."
Leah obeyed with the promptness of habit, and her eyes fell on the scarred and grizzled warrior standing beside her father. Only years of submission and terror held her still as the old man reached out and grasped her arm to pull her closer.
"She favors you," he said, whistling through broken and missing teeth. "She will be well enough when a couple of children have put flesh on her bones. Well, well, she is as you said, and for my part, I am satisfied. She understands, of course, and is willing?"
"She will do as she is told," Pembroke replied. "I have bred no crotchets in her. She is handy and biddable and her mother says she is well instructed in housewifery."
"What is your name, child?"
Leah started. She had not known that anyone else was present, but the voice came from a seat thrown into shadow by the glare of the fire. It was a low husky voice—a priest, Leah thought, and swallowed convulsively.
"Leah, her mother called her—that she might be fruitful," Pembroke answered.
"So she told me," the voice spoke again. Leah strained her eyes to see into the dimness. "But I would hear the girl speak. She is not simple, is she?"
"No, no! Curse you, Leah, open your foul mouth. You chatter enough when I would you were silent, but when you are asked to speak you are mute."
"Yes, father," the girl whispered. "I am only surprised. I did not know."
Slowly a huge form rose from the seat and limped painfully forward into the light. Leah had the impression of enormous power, of bitter dark eyes, and of shabby clothing. "Let her go, father," the younger man said. "Come here, Leah, for I would look at you." His husky voice was very gentle and gave her a little confidence so that, when the old man dropped her arm, Leah followed willingly enough to the window embrasure.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen today, my lord."
"And already a famous housewife." There was a faint note of mocking laughter in the voice, but when Leah, stung, looked up, the face was grave enough. "Come, I will not hurt you, and, although I am no beauty, you must learn to accept my face," he continued as Leah hastily dropped her eyes again.
"My lord," she murmured, "I am unaccustomed to much company. Usually when knights come to visit my father I must stay in the women's quarters."
She did look at him then, however, and saw that a once-handsome countenance was marred by one scar that drew up his mouth in a perpetual bitter smile and another which crossed his forehead and divided one brow in half. When she could detach her attention from those startling marks, she noted that he had a dark, weather-beaten complexion and a full head of rather lank black hair, that the lips, had they not been set so firmly, would have been full and well contoured, and that the large dark eyes were not only beautiful but held, in that unguarded moment, a rather soft expression of sadness.
"You need not always call me 'my lord,'" he was saying, "indeed, I have a wish to hear you say my name."
"But I do not know it."
There was a moment's silence, and Leah could see the eyes and the mouth harden. "I am Cain, Lord Radnor."
"You! Oh, then it is you—" Leah sat down suddenly on the window seat.
She did not see the angry shade that passed over her future husband's face, and it was just as well for that would have frightened her badly. As it was, her relief brought her smile and, in a moment, her laugh trilled out. Her laugh was one of her greatest assets; it was like the song of a blackbird, a tinkling, musical cascade heard far too seldom. Unselfconscious in her relief, she put out her hand to touch his sleeve.
"How glad I am. I thought—" She left that unfinished, merely repeating with a sigh, "How glad I am."
This man was certainly no beauty, but he was younger than the other and spoke gently. Leah looked at Cain squarely again, color flooding back into her face and making her glow into something approaching real beauty. For a moment she was surprised by his puzzled expression, and then realized that her remarks must have seemed incomprehensible to him. She laughed again, explaining.
"When I came in, I saw only your father. I thought he was the man I was to marry. I—it is not my place to object, of course, but I was afraid—I thought he was a little—a little elderly."
It was Lord Radnor's turn to laugh then, and he too sat down, grimacing as he took his weight off his feet. "And if it had been he that was to be your husband?"
"I would be obedient to my father in whatever he bid me, but I am—I hope—I do not know, but I think, perhaps it is easier to please a younger man. My lord—I mean Cain—what an odd name. I would think …" Her voice drifted away because of the scowl that spread over Lord Radnor's face.
"An ill-favored name, but my own." The husky voice was still low, but there was a snarl in it now.
"Nay, my lord," Leah touched his sleeve again, but timidly this time, her color fading slowly, "it cannot be ill-favored to me." She could say no more. An angry man was terrifying.
"So pretty a compliment must needs make me reconciled." His tone was clear then, and sharp with sarcasm, and Leah felt crushed and helpless. Her eyes filled with easy tears and she looked away. For a moment the silence hung between them, and Leah was startled when Cain spoke again in his normal voice, a little uncertainty in the words.
"I am sorry. That was unkind. Nay, I pray you, do not weep. I was only—I pray you, do not weep." Cain moved closer on the window seat.
They had, in that place, all the privacy that the great hall afforded, because the window opening in the walls, five feet thick at that level of the keep, formed almost a private room around them.
"Come,” he went on, “you shall have your revenge for my unkindness. Set me a task, or ask for—for—oh, Lord what do women like—a jewel, and you shall have it."
Leah looked at him. To her surprise, for she had expected only a frown or the sly expression her father wore when he set a trap for her, Lord Radnor's face was perfectly serious, even concerned. The thought that her lord and master should offer her "revenge" for a harsh word was so ludicrous to her that she was surprised into laughter again.
The sunlight filtered in a haze through skins scraped thin and oiled that covered the window to keep out the April chill; it made an aureole of light of the fine ends of fair hair that escaped from Leah's plaits and warmed her enough to set free a delicate odor of lavender that seemed to float about her like the shimmering light. Leah could not know her own charm with the teardrops sparkling on her long lashes, and she did not understand the curious expression that crossed Lord Radnor's face, but she took courage for it was certainly not anger. In reply to his repeated request she smiled shyly and shook her head.
"Will you cherish your hurt, then?"
"But I have taken no hurt. I was only frightened when you frowned, for I am sure that if I make you angry my father will—will kill me." Leah was telling the literal truth when she said that, for if the plans fell through because of something she did her father would kill her.
Lord Radnor's mouth hardened again. He intensely disliked Gilbert Fitz Gilbert, the Earl of Pembroke, and the daughter's fear did not improve matters. "No one will do you any hurt. As we are betrothed, your care is in my hands. Do you but please me and all will go well. And be not so timid for a frown. You will find that I frown often enough about matters indifferent to you."
Oh, God, Leah thought, no matter is indifferent to a wife.
Does not my father beat my mother when the crops are poor? Is not the will of God a matter indifferent to my mother? And yet, do not the blows sting just as shrewdly when the matter is indifferent? But she had training enough in concealing such thoughts, and she continued to smile.
There was a pause. Cain studied the slightly downcast face of his future bride. He had not wanted this marriage, but he was a good deal better pleased than he had expected to be by the girl, her gentleness and soft beauty striking a chord to which he could not help responding. Leah racked her brains for further ground for conversation, inquiring politely at last how long her lord would stay.
"This night and perhaps another. I would not have come at all except that it was agreed that the betrothal should take place on the morrow." Lord Radnor stopped suddenly and became conscious that he had been extremely rude and tactless. "I should not have said that, I suppose, but I do not mean that I did not wish to meet you, of course. These are dangerous times in Wales, and if a full-scale rebellion is to be averted I must keep close watch on my men and lands. I can ill spare even these few days … although I am glad now …"
"I hear very little of these matters, my lord."
"And you are little enough interested, I warrant." Radnor smiled, wondering briefly what most women thought about, if they thought at all.
"No, no, I am interested,” Leah protested. “If you would but have the patience to pardon my ignorance and explain simply. I do, indeed, wish to know what is happening in the world, but my father never speaks of aught but hunting and gaming and my mother is so glad to be at peace that she will say no word of war. I remember when I was a little girl that there was much fighting and the house was full of strange knights always and my mother wept all the time. Why are these dangerous times?"
Lord Radnor passed a hand across his face, gently touching the scar near his mouth, seeking for simple terms to explain a complicated situation to this child who was watching him with an expression of eager interest. There was no need for him to tell her anything, of course, and he had not the smallest expectation that she would understand him since women, with the exception of she-devils like Joan of Shrewsbury, never did understand anything. He was amused, however, by her eagerness, like a child begging for a story, and it could do no harm to tell her.
To Leah, hearing of what was happening in the country around her was almost as great a marvel as reading a new romance, for news traveled very slowly and, since Pembroke stayed very seldom at the keep to which he had banished his wife, often missed them completely. Leah's life was filled solely with the household chores of the castle, and perhaps that should have been sufficient for her, but Lord Radnor like everyone else underestimated how much her wits had been sharpened by living with the father she had. She was very capable of understanding, and she longed for the stimulation of information beyond her household chores.
"When old King Henry died—no, I must go back before that, I guess, if you are to understand. King Henry had but one son born in wedlock. That prince, unfortunately, was drowned in a crossing from France. When the prince was drowned, King Henry, wishing to keep the throne for his own blood and having no other legitimate son, bade the barons do homage to his daughter, the Empress Matilda."
"Do you mean, my lord, that a woman could rule this land?"
Well, she had picked that up keenly enough. "Wait, let me go my own way or we will become enmeshed in explanations that take us nowhere. Many barons were willing to take her as queen, many were not, but after the pledge was made, even those that were willing regretted what was done."
"Why? Because she was a woman?"
"Not that so much. It is more that she is proud and overbearing. In a man a high stomach may be borne, but in a woman it is insufferable. When Henry died, therefore, some sent messages secretly to Stephen of Blois, the king's nephew. He was pleasant, well liked, and a strong fighter—also weakminded, which was discovered later, but that is treason to say, so do not repeat it."
"I will repeat nothing you tell me, unless you bid me especially to do so."
Lord Radnor was startled, but he realized almost immediately that she responded to an order like a good, obedient child and continued his tale. "At first all went well except for a few disaffected—Robert of Gloucester, the king's natural son, held by his sister's right to the throne—and, although my father hesitated long, he finally was brought to do homage to Stephen by the representations of many of our friends. But Stephen did not hold his promises; ever he listened to the last man to have his ear and, by turning first this way and then that, accomplished nothing and allowed every abuse. The result of this was that no man fears him, and the whole country has gone mad."
"Was that why there was so much fighting when I was a child?"
"Ay, but you are little more than that now, and there is more to the story which you will not hear if you continue to interrupt."
It was very kindly said, and Leah could not forbear a mischievous smile. He was a delightful man, even if he was not handsome, and, when one came to think of it, the marks were not so dreadful. They gave manliness to a countenance that might, from the looks of the eyes and mouth, have been too soft.
"Now the Empress Matilda—you remember, the king's daughter—had been waiting for just such a situation and she came post-haste from Anjou where she had been living. Once she arrived, serious rebellion broke out. Some were dissatisfied with Stephen; some had troubled consciences and feared the wrath of God because they were forsworn; but most seized gladly on the opportunity to attack and rob under the pretence of supporting one side or the other."
Leah had her hands gripped tightly together in her effort at concentration on this history. "Then the Empress Matilda is at war with King Stephen, I see, but—"
Glancing at the tightly intertwined fingers, Lord Radnor had to smile. He had a swift memory of himself concentrating on his tutor's lessons with just such hands. "Wait, wait, you leap ahead. It is not so simple in truth because the Empress Matilda now has a son who is very nearly a man. It is rumored that he is to return again to press his claim. He was here with his mother once before, but he was only a child of ten then."
"I see that this does not please you. Is he also unworthy to be king? Do you think that King Stephen can be brought to better ways?"
"The priests tell us that there are miracles," Cain replied dryly. "Perhaps God will think that England has suffered enough and perform one. Short of that, I do not believe that the king will—or I should say can, because Stephen is a well intentioned man—change his ways. You are right though in saying that Henry's coming does not please me—and very clever, too, to have read that in my face—but it is not because he would not make a better king. Almost anyone would, although Henry is too young, about sixteen, but I am sworn to be Stephen's man, no matter how little my heart lies there and I must hold to my oath. Of more immediate importance though is that Wales is like a pot just on the boil. One little thing more will make it run over."
Leah heard little but the last statement because she had been thinking that she could read far more in any man's face than whether or not he liked or disliked a king. When the price for every misreading of a flicker of expression that shows a mood is a blow and a bruise, the eye grows quick and the mind grows keen.
"But why should England's troubles affect Wales?"
"God in His omniscience, He knows why He made the Welsh as He did. I give them credit for their courage, but they are lunatic. They know not when they are beaten. They will not lie down and die when they are wounded unto death. They will not acknowledge us their masters although we have proven our claim again and again by force of arms. Each time the crown changes hands in England, the Welsh think that we Normans will be so concerned that we will pay no mind to what goes on in our own lands. Therefore the Welsh rise in rebellion, seeking to be free of the yoke we have placed upon them. Each time an overlord, like your father's brother, is slain or is deposed by the king, they rise to fight, flooding down from the hills and out of the forests."
Radnor had not turned his face from Leah, but his eyes stared unseeingly past her. He had forgotten she was there and was merely speaking aloud of something that puzzled and hurt him. "God knows that I would more gladly give my protection to them than slay them; their blood runs in my veins, and I have offered peace again and again. I would even, perhaps, give them what they say they desire—freedom. Little enough can be wrung from unwilling people in labor or gold, and the cost of fighting them to make them pay is more than my gain. But they will not live in peace among themselves nor let me live in peace. They kill my serfs; they burn my land. I cannot bear to see the earth a black ruin. I cannot bear it when the serfs bring their starving children to me and cry, ‘Master, help us.’ Can I bring crops from scorched soil? It must be stopped before it begins. At all costs there must be no war in England and no change of overlordships in Wales!"
"There will be no change in overlordships," Leah soothed, frightened by Cain's intensity. "Why should there be?"
Cain started and flushed slightly as he realized he had exposed rather more of his personal feelings than he had intended. "I hope not," he said more calmly. "Our marriage will assure peace between Pembroke and Gaunt. If only Fitz Richard can be extricated from Stephen's grasp and Chester will keep the promises he has made to me, all will be well."
"Do you mean my cousin Fitz Richard? My lord, why does the king hold my cousin Fitz Richard?"
"You have a special affection for him?" Radnor asked sharply.
The jealous note was lost upon Leah in her concern for a childhood playmate. "Oh, yes. When I was a little girl, he told me stories and taught me chess and other games. Please—is he in danger?"
"Not in any personal danger, I believe." Cain was ashamed of himself. It was perfectly reasonable that a girl should be fond of her cousin. "You see, the Earl of Chester has rebelled often against the king. I love Chester well; he is my godfather and has been very kind to me, but he is a man of strong passions and when he believes the king to be wrong he tries to mend matters by war. War cannot mend matters now, so my father and I and your father made peace between Stephen and Chester."
"But my cousin Fitz Richard, what has he to do with this?"
"Chester is Fitz Richard's uncle on the mother's side, as your father is Fitz Richard's uncle on the father's. Also, Chester loves Fitz Richard well. Therefore Fitz Richard thought that if he offered himself and his lands as hostage for his uncle's good behavior, Chester would be more likely to keep the peace. This is all very well for England and for Chester, but it leaves your cousin Fitz Richard's lands without an overlord. This in itself is bad, because, as I told you, the Welsh are always restless."
"Then why does not the king send Fitz Richard home to govern his people?"
Cain sighed. "I have said I love Chester, and it is true, but Chester is not, alas, always to be trusted. The king keeps Fitz Richard because" —he knew he should not be saying these things to this girl, but he was carried along on a wave of bitterness— "because the moment Chester is bound by nothing but his word, he will break his word. Stephen hopes that Chester will be quiet out of fear for Fitz Richard. Oh, God, I should have stopped it before it went so far, but I was so tired of this war and Stephen would have only Fitz Richard as hostage—and the fool of a boy was willing. Every man makes mistakes. If the peace had not been made, the Welsh would have rebelled. To quiet them we all agreed Fitz Richard should go. Now they threaten to rise for lack of an overlord and we must get Fitz Richard back … and I am so weary."
"But if you cannot get Fitz Richard away safe, and the Welsh do rise … Wales is large and well-peopled. How can you withstand them?"
What a fool I am, Cain thought. I have frightened the poor child. He ran a hand through his hair, and then smiled. "Some of the Welsh are satisfied to till the soil in peace and are content with their Norman masters. We take a tax from them, of course, but we protect them also so that they are not exposed to the wild tribes of the hills. Even so we would be in an ill case except that the Welsh are different somehow. Usually when there is a great cause for a people, that people unite to fight for it. Men will set aside petty quarrels to go on crusade, for example—and fools they are to do it too. It is most fortunate for us that the Welsh can never be brought to do this. They love to fight, but it is all alike to them whether they kill Normans or English or other Welsh. They are ever forsworn—I am not sure they believe in the True God, so they swear easily by Him without fear—so they do not trust one another, and this makes our task far easier. By my faith, they are brave fighters. It is just as well they do not readily agree. I would not wish to meet the Welsh nation united on the field."
"You have been in many battles, have you not, my lord?"
"Many and many." Lord Radnor put up a hand to touch his scarred face and smiled more grimly. "Do you think I had cut myself while shaving?"
Leah's eyes glistened. "It must be very exciting to see a battle. I have rea—" Her voice hesitated and she dropped her eyes. To Leah's father it was a sin for a woman to be able to read. Her mother had taught her, but she knew she must keep her knowledge secret. "I mean I have heard many tales, and—"
Cain threw back his head to laugh, exposing white teeth and a powerful, corded neck. "Very exciting, provided you are on the winning side. You are bloodthirsty for a maid, are you not?" he asked, teasing her.
Leah missed that. She was trained to take remarks literally. "I do not think so. I do not like to see the serfs hanged or maimed. Only it is so very quiet here, I think I should like to see brave men fight. The serfs scream and grovel so, I can hardly bear it."
Cain's laughter faded. "Not all men are brave in battle. It is sometimes hard to die." He shook his head sharply as if to rid it of a thought or picture and then smiled again. "In heaven's name, what a subject for a maiden. You will have excitement enough of a better sort for women, and soon enough too. Sometime this summer I must ride to court. Stephen has once more summoned the barons together. My father prudently remains behind so that one of us at least will have freedom of action no matter what befalls. Will you like to ride to court?"
"I am to go?"
"As you desire."
"Do you mean that I may really choose whether to go or to stay?"
There was a silence, and then Lord Radnor said rather dryly, "You would rather stay at home than ride to London with me?"
"Oh no," Leah gasped, "no, but it was lovely to think that I could choose to stay behind if I wished. No one has ever offered me a choice before," she added naively.
Edwina now reappeared in the hall and went towards Pembroke and His Grace of Gaunt. As she passed Leah and Lord Radnor, she directed at her daughter a definitely monitory glance. Leah cast wildly around in her mind for what she had done or left undone, and turned anxiously to the man beside her.
"Please forgive me. You must be tired for you have ridden far and over a hard road. I see you are all muddied, and here I have kept you talking. I pray you come to the east tower chamber and I will disarm you and prepare your bath."
"Gladly. It will be well come. We have ridden three days from the west and I am galled by the steel against my body."
Leah was instantly all concern. She led the way to the stairs and then, becoming conscious of Lord Radnor's halting step, offered her arm. "My lord, you are hurt. There was fighting in the west then?"
"Some fighting, but I am not hurt."
Cain stopped and perforce Leah did too, turning to look questioningly at him. What she saw in his eyes turned her cold. She had read in the book of saints' tales of agonies of the spirit, but until that moment she had never believed that they could be more violent than those of the body which she had witnessed. Without consciousness of what she was doing, only feeling a rush of desire to offer comfort, she put out her hands and took Cain's.
"I am a cripple," he continued so harshly that, but for her hold on his hands, she would have physically recoiled.
"Alas, I am sorry."
"If I can bear it, you needs must. You will hear tales enough about me, and I tell you that I have a crippled foot. I am a crippled man, nothing more."
Leah's lashes hid her eyes. A fierce surge of protectiveness almost maternal, a desire to salve the apparent raw hurt, made her stammer a little. "No, no." She pressed the hand she still held tightly, and Cain became aware of her grip. "It is of no consequence to me; if I am sorry it is only because you looked so—" She could not go on, for what she had seen was indescribable. "Come, I pray you, you are tired, and if you will we may talk later. It is ill done of me to delay when you have told me of your weariness."
For Lord Radnor there was nothing more to say. Certainly he would not discuss with this raw girl the nameless superstitious fears that he denied he felt. She would run screaming from him in horror when she heard the tales of the demon son of Gaunt. And how was he to keep her from hearing? Mutely he permitted her to draw him out of the hall and up the stairs.
In one of the towers of the keep, the area had been cleared of war gear and made fit for habitation. There were no true windows here, only arrow slits to let in light, and the circular room was dim, but the rushes underfoot were clean and intermingled with herbs so that the room was freshly scented. A fire burned brightly on the hearth, illuminating the grotesque carvings in the dark wood of a low-backed chair set before it. Into this chair Leah pressed her betrothed, and he sank into the cushioned seat with a sense of relief, which was sharply broken when the girl released his hand and moved away.
"Stay, my lord, I must go to my mother and—"
With one bound he was upon her, grasping her forearm in his right hand. "Do you go to your mother? Will you ask her to plead for your freedom? Do not be foolish. Crippled or whole, man or demon—oh, yes, I know what they say of me—I am a great matrimonial prize. Your lands march with mine. It is in every way suitable."
Shocked by his attack, Leah instinctively tried to pull away, and Cain tightened his grip until she went down on her knees. "No, no. Oh, my lord, please. I am in every way willing. Indeed, indeed, I was only going to ask my mother for herbs for your bath. Have mercy," she cried, her tears spilling over, "do not hurt me so."
"Oh, God." Radnor released her arm as if it had burnt him. "I am sorry. I did not realize I was hurting you." He walked away to the fire while Leah knelt beside the chair, rubbing her arm and trying not to sob. Cain muttered something under his breath and then, more clearly, "If you wish to be free, tell me, and I—I will contrive so that you will bear no blame. I have used you shamefully, poor child."
"I swear I am content. I pray you to say nothing to my father. He will kill me. Dear lord, what have I done? What have I said? Do not be angry." He walked back towards her and she cringed. "I will go nowhere. Do not beat me, my lord."
"Beat you? For what? For my own shame and bad temper?" Cain touched the bright hair gently. "You will not think it after this, but I wish to use you kindly. I do not desire that you should fear me out of reason." He closed his eyes and laughed harshly. "I have begun well, have I not? Bruising your arm and frightening you out of your wits." Bending, he lifted her to her feet. "You must not let me frighten you, Leah. Your fear makes me cruel." The remark was ridiculous and Cain laughed. "There, I know you are young—I have led too hard a life—but I will try to remember. Are you truly content? Can you forget that I have been harsh to you?"
With a surge of thankfulness that the storm seemed to be over so quickly and with so little damage done, Leah summoned up a smile, tremblingly. "Oh yes, I am content, and you are not cruel. My father often uses me much more hardly and never has said he was sorry for it."
"Does he treat you ill?"
"No indeed," Leah said, afraid that Lord Radnor would think she had the temerity to criticize her father, "but I am very foolish and do many things amiss. It would be wrong in him to overlook my errors, for how should I ever learn if he did?"
She looked up at Lord Radnor to see the effect of this statement and noticed that he looked ravaged. This too was a revelation to Leah, for Pembroke always seemed to be refreshed by raging. All men were like that, Leah had assumed, having no other but her father for comparison, yet here was Lord Radnor, exhausted and ashamed. Leah could recognize the emotions because, sorely tried, she too could blaze into a rage. Her reaction, however, paralleled Lord Radnor's, and shame and fatigue followed temper.
Although Leah's reading of her betrothed's emotion was correct, the reasons she assigned for it were wrong. It was not Radnor's burst of temper that exhausted him but his struggle with his private fear that he was something unclean. The fear went so deep and the struggle was waged so constantly that Cain suspected every emotion he felt and often considered the natural cruelty that exists in every human being as a sure sign of his damnation.
"I pray you, sit down again."
Leah pressed Cain gently towards the chair. Insensibly he was soothed and obeyed the urging, turning his face to look at the fire, and Leah, taking advantage of his apparent inattentiveness, rearranged the cushions on the chair more comfortably. Since this service caused no adverse reaction, Radnor continuing to stare at the flames and rub one hand with the other, Leah knelt and fumbled at his sword belt.
She was pleased by the richness of the gold wire filigree snakes and birds that were riveted to the soft, strong leather. Her father was a veritable miser and locked away all the pretty things in strongboxes. Lord Radnor leaned back and sighed as the buckle gave and Leah lifted the weight of sword and belt from his hips. She folded the surcoat back away from his hauberk, and slipped the worn, rust-stained velvet over his shoulders.
It was a source of great wonder to Leah that he would wear so rare and precious a fabric for such a purpose; velvet was still imported into England in very limited quantities and brought fantastic prices. But it was not her place to ask questions. He leaned forward to permit her to remove the surcoat completely and docilely raised first his hips and then his arms so that she could pull the mail shirt off over his head. The weight of the mail made her gasp with effort. Technically a squire should do the heavy disarming, but neither Lord Radnor nor his father had a squire.
In spite of their prowess as warriors and their great position, not too many men wished to trust their sons to Gaunt's training. He had peculiar ideas about serfs and had infected his son with them. Beside that, they frequented the court only when summoned; they were not in favor with Stephen. Although the king listened with respect to anything they had to say, he knew they were rebels at heart and had supported Robert of Gloucester in the late civil wars to the limit of their ability without actually fighting for him. Those barons whose political opinions concurred with Gaunt's had other reasons for withholding their sons. For one thing Gaunt never offered a place to a young nobleman, preferring to fill his ranks with well paid mercenaries; for another, a boy entrusted to them could not come by the training in arts such as conversation, dressing, carving and so on, which were considered necessary for a noble.
The woolen tunic and linen shirt beneath the mail were stained with rust and blood, and Leah shook her head over the marks. "My lord." She touched Cain's arm and he started and looked at her with blank eyes. "You must have a fresh shirt, and a robe, and—"
"Yes, well?"
"Have I your leave to fetch these things?"
"Yes, certainly."
"But my mother has the keys to the storeroom. I must go to her to get the keys. You bade me—"
"Do not be so silly. Could you think I meant you to avoid your mother forever?"
"It is not my business to think what you mean," Leah answered simply, "only to obey you."
"Yes, very proper, but you must have a little sense too. If you do not leave the room and it should happen that no one came in, we might starve to death finally, and I should never get the bath I am very desirous of having."
It took a moment or two for the puzzled girl to realize that he was laughing at her, so grave was his expression, but she did understand finally and smiled. "You are teasing me," she said.
Her betrothed started to answer, but shivered suddenly, hunching his massive shoulders, for the room was dank and chill in spite of the fire. Leah ran at once for a woolen bed covering from a chest near the wall and draped it over his back. As she knelt before him to fold it around his body, she stroked his passive hand, hard as steel and scarred across the knuckles. She was remembering how kindly he had answered her questions and how tired he looked.
Lord Radnor held his breath, hardly daring to move his eyes to look at her. She reminded him just then of nothing so much as the wild birds that perched near him as he lay in the woods of his home and, as he had held his breath then not to alarm them, so he held it now for this shy bird.
How long they would have remained thus lulled by the hiss of the flames and their own quiescence was doubtful, but the idyll was broken when a log snapped in the fire, causing Leah to jump out of the way of the sparks. Lord Radnor did not move; his hand, like a lure to a bird, lay quiet on his knee and the quiet was indeed a lure to Leah. Daring greatly because he had been kind, because her comfort and possibly her life depended upon her pleasing him, Leah dropped a kiss on that quiet, scarred hand and ran lightly away on her errands.