Chapter 3
The high table the next morning was lacking in conversation since all of its occupants were heavy-eyed. Pembroke and Gaunt had drunk far into the night. Edwina had lain awake tortured by fears for her daughter's future and disturbed by Leah's emotional withdrawal. Leah herself had sewed almost all through the night, and Lord Radnor had tossed and turned and then walked the floor until he was exhausted. When he finally slept, he was disturbed by dreams that brought him awake, sweating, to walk the floor again until the pain in his bad foot was unbearable. He had spent the rest of the night dozing uneasily in the chair by the fire. One thing he had to be grateful for—he thought his father had been too drunk to notice his behavior.
Leah rose first from the table, not usually set up for breakfast except on the infrequent occasions when there were guests. Cold meat, pastry, and eggs had been added to the usual bread and wine, but of these she had not partaken. Murmuring excuses, she retreated to the women's chambers. She found that her calm was not proof against her betrothed's presence. She could barely choke down her bread and wine, and the few glances she had dared steal at him showed a sullen, angry expression intensified by heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes.
The Earl of Pembroke and Gaunt went off to hunt for a few hours, issuing an invitation to Cain which he refused rather rudely, shrugging aside his father's even ruder remarks on his manners. Alone, he wandered out into the battlements and then down through one of the towers and across the moat into the field adjoining the castle. Edwina, passing from one tower to another on her household business, saw him there and, after considering, sent Leah to him. She was reluctant to do so, but felt that they would both suffer if Pembroke heard that Lord Radnor had spent the day alone. He was sitting beside a tree with his eyes closed when Leah came up to him, but the sixth sense of all successful fighting men warned him of her presence.
"Good day, my lord."
"What brings you here?" Cain spat.
Leah recoiled. "My mother did not wish you to be alone. She sent me to you, but I will return at once."
"No!" Radnor was ashamed of himself, He should have known that this child was too well brought up to force herself upon him of her own volition. She was no court lady, puffed up with her own importance. "I do not even know what made me say that. I was half asleep. Stay, now that you are here. Would it be too cold for you to sit still? Would you prefer to walk?"
"It is a fair day." Leah was about to suggest a walk in the water meadows to see if the wild crocuses were still in bloom, but she remembered his limp in time. "Let us sit here quietly, if that would please you. It is not cold. Indeed, it will be pleasant to sit and do nothing for I was awake most of the night."
Lord Radnor was startled and a trifle displeased. "You too?"
"Alas, did not you sleep well, my lord?"
"Well, did you?" It was not, perhaps, proper for a girl to confess to so much passion, but it was certainly innocence which permitted her to do so. Lord Radnor could not help smiling as he asked his question.
"Oh yes, when I went to my bed at last."
Now that was a wholly puzzling remark. "What kept you from it then?"
"Why, my lord," she replied laughing, "I mended your clothes, and cleaned them too."
He burst out laughing. That would teach him to overrate his attractions. "But why did you mend my clothes?"
"Surely you do not think it is our custom to allow our guests to go forth all mud-splattered from our house." She frowned. "I fear I could do little enough with them. They are sadly neglected. Do you not carry a change of clothing with you?"
"No. I used to do so, but if the things were not lost in fording some stream or left behind by carelessness, I found I never had time to change anyway and finally gave up trying. I have clothing in all of my own keeps, of course, and I change when I can."
"If you were not in such haste, I would have … But at least I made you a new shirt. You are so very big, my lord, that it was not possible to give you my father's clothing, which my mother would have been glad to do. Indeed," Leah said both shyly and slyly, taking a chance because of the pleasure mirrored in Lord Radnor's face, "I am very glad there is no one of import to see us here. For although you are a very great lord and I of little account, I could never hold up my head again if I were to be seen with a man so clad."
Radnor was startled into sitting upright and looking at himself. In truth, he was a sight to behold. His cross-gartered legs protruded from the bottom of a gown at least eight inches too short for him and hastily patched to accommodate his tremendous breadth of shoulder and chest. He grinned, exposing handsome teeth.
"You have touched me, my lady. Although it must be plain to all that I care little for such matters, I must say that to be seen in this guise causes even my spirit to quail. Your mother has certainly made you a good housewife. She bade you, I suppose, show me all your virtues. She seems troubled that I am not satisfied with my bargain."
"She did not need to tell me aught. I hope I know what is every guest's due—and how much more is yours, who are my own good lord."
Her gentle dignity drew Radnor's eyes again to Leah's face. Embarrassed by the forthright stare, Leah sought hastily for something to say.
"If it is not improper for me to know,” she went on, “where exactly is it that you go in such haste? You look tired to death; it is shameful that you may not rest here longer."
A swift memory of the night he had spent almost made Lord Radnor laugh at that comment. He had a good idea that he would get little enough rest in Leah's company until he could satisfy himself with her, but he repressed his laughter, and answered her direct question.
"Two of the petty barons who hold land of my father have found a cause to quarrel. From insults I fear they will leap to assault, and this is no time for a private war on my land."
Lord Radnor squinted in the strengthening sunlight of April, and Leah, alive to his smallest gesture with a sensitivity new to her because it was not born only of fear, put her hand on his shoulder and pulled gently.
"Rest your head on my lap while you tell me. I will shield your eyes from the sun."
Cain yielded to her with a sigh and closed his tired eyes against the glare. "There is little enough to tell except that a rumor grows that Henry of Anjou will come again to claim the throne. If so, Chester may break his truce with the king, your cousin Fitz Richard's lands will fall forfeit, and the Welsh will doubtless rise. I will need every vassal I have to subdue them. I dare not allow my own men to become embroiled with each other. When the Welsh run wild—"
"But were not the Welsh subdued in King Henry's time?"
"I told you yesterday, they have never really been subdued. The Welsh …" Lord Radnor made a helpless gesture with one hand. "They are all mad together and say that we oppress them. A man may not leave Welsh lands unguarded to indulge in private war. The Welsh will strike—they say for freedom, I say because the devil is in them—the moment their lord's back is turned."
Leah could feel the muscles tense in Cain's shoulder under her hand. "Rest. There is no need to tell me more if it disturbs you. Let us talk of something else. Here, at least, is peace. There is nothing to guard yourself against on this land and in this keep."
"It does not disturb me to tell you how matters lie if it interests you, but it has come to my mind that the Welsh Marches are no place in time of rebellion, for a woman not of their blood."
"I do not think I should be afraid. If they wished to kill me that would not matter. If I thought they should do worse, I hope I could have the courage to end my own life."
That made Cain laugh gently, for it sounded to him as if a dove had offered to take the place of his gerfalcon. Leah was a little hurt.
"You need not laugh at me, my lord. Even a woman can find courage when she must defend her husband's honor."
That remark made Radnor open his eyes in surprise. The women he had known had given him little reason to think that they concerned themselves much with their husband's honor except to stain it.
"Now who has given you ideas like that?"
"My mother and the chaplain have taught me my duty, I hope."
"You never learned talk of self-slaughter from your chaplain—or your mother, I'll be bound."
"No, but I have—have heard many tales of brave ladies. Now you are laughing at me again." Radnor assured her he had merely been smiling because of the pleasure her pretty face gave him, and begged her to continue. Watching him suspiciously for further signs of mirth, Leah added, "I know that the priests say that to take your own life is a mortal sin, but do you not think that God, who is so kind, would understand that although you might be willing to suffer yourself you could not permit another, especially your husband, to suffer because of you?"
Radnor did not answer for a moment. Her theology was certainly original. He should have been horrified, for he knew better, but instead he was charmed and amused. Just now he would do nothing to hurt her feelings at any cost, certainly not argue a theological point. He quelled the impulse to laugh at her earnestness, but even so he sounded a little choked.
"I am sure that the Lord would understand, being omniscient. Whether He would approve or not, of course, I could not take it upon myself to say. Tell me, Leah, do you spend your time listening to tales and thinking these thoughts?"
The girl laughed at an experienced man's naiveté in household matters. "No indeed. You must not think me so idle. Women must learn many things too, even if they are not such interesting or exciting things as men learn. I can cook, and spin, and sew, and even weave, although that I do not do too well, for it takes long experience to make a good weaver. I have learned to nurture herbs and to use them. Now if you will permit, I will show you something else I have learned. I have urged you to rest, but you lie on my lap as if you were ready to spring to your feet at each moment. Turn a little on your side, my lord, and I will teach you how I have learned to make a man rest."
Cain was surprised again. Always tense, he had not noticed his own rigidity. He did as he was told, however, and Leah began to rub the back of his neck and shoulders gently. She continued to speak in a low voice of the daily life of the castlefolk, and her voice grew fainter, her words slower, until finally she drifted from words into humming a simple tune. Radnor's eyes grew heavier, his muscles flaccid; at last he slept soundly, his battle-scarred hands relaxed open on the ground and his face pressed against her dress.
When he woke, the sun was beginning its afternoon decline, and Leah was smiling down at him. "Are you rested now?" she asked.
"Wonderfully. You must have bewitched me,” he said, getting to his feet. “It seems to me that I have not slept so well since I was a child."
"You were very tired. How difficult must be your life, my lord, to tighten your thews so hard that you cannot release them. It is grievous to me that you cannot stay longer."
"Truly?" Leah did not answer but smiled and pressed his hand slightly, for they were walking now in the formal manner with her hand resting on his. "Where do you lead me now?" he continued. "I am so bemused that you might lead me off the edge of a cliff and I would not notice."
"What a gallant speech." She laughed. "And how evil you think me. Even if I had such dreadful intentions, you must see it to be impossible. We have here no cliffs. I mean kindly to you, however, I assure you. I do but return to your sleeping chamber. I would look again, if you permit, at your wounds, and I hope to induce you to change your attire. Perhaps when your limbs do not hang out of your garments, I may think of you as a swan instead of an ugly duckling."
That remark was puzzling, but Radnor connected it vaguely with their previous talk about clothes and did not pursue it, surrendering with a voluptuous sense of luxury to Leah's ministrations as she unfastened his belt and drew off his gown.
"I tell you," he replied, "it is no light thing to be so much larger than other men. It is always my head that sticks out on the field of battle." His voice was dreamy and a little muffled as Leah pulled off his shirt. "It is no doubt by God's special grace that I have kept as much of it as I have. One day the good Lord will grow tired of overseeing His long mistake, and I will—"
"Oh, no!"
"Why, Leah what is it?"
"I did not think when I laughed because you are so big that it was not matter for jest at all and that it might be a danger to you."
"No, no. It is indeed a matter for jest." Seeing the tears in her eyes, he tried earnestly to reassure her. "Leah, I did but jape with you. Do not weep. I am in no way endangered. Truly, on a horse all men are the same size."
But Leah was badly shaken. She had suddenly realized that true fighting did not take place in the romantic way in which it was described in the minstrel's tales where the hero always won and was never hurt. The marks on Cain's body showed clearly that he was not invulnerable. Adjusted as Leah was to absolute obedience to her father, she would have tried to love any man he chose for her, no matter how old, ugly, or brutal. With Lord Radnor she had not even had to try; he was not old nor, in spite of his scars, ugly, and he certainly was not brutal to her. She was desperately anxious that nothing should happen to interfere with their marriage, for she knew that her satisfaction was a matter of total indifference to her father and that it was unlikely that she would be equally lucky in Pembroke's second choice. Her hands clung to Radnor's mighty upper arms and she bowed her head on his breast.
"Leah, I am long tried in war. For God's sake, if not for mine, do not weep—I cannot bear it." Whatever women had offered him in the past, not one had ever cried with fear because he might be hurt. "Good God," he cried, at last, more moved by her tears than she was herself, "you will unman me."
At that Leah raised her head. "My lord, I do not weep." Tears trembled on her lashes. With an effort she steadied her voice. "Men must fight and women must wait. It is the will of God. But may I be dead, as I most certainly will be damned, if I should make you less than yourself." The words were bravely said, unconsciously copied from the romances, but her hands clutched so tightly at Cain's arms that her nails bit into his flesh.
"You will have more wounds to dress if you do not let me go," he said gently, and then with an attempt at lightness, "and I shall take cold and die of that if you keep me standing in this cold room much longer with nothing but my hose on."
Leah smiled uncertainly, bade Cain sit again, and went to fetch her ointments. She smoothed the salve into the raw spots, exclaiming that the infected cut was now healing well. "I wish you did not go so soon."
"I will make haste—the best haste I may—to return. Will you be as tender of me then? Will you salve my new cuts and bruises?"
"You said" —her hands tensed and Cain winced as she pressed too hard on an open sore— "that there might be no fighting."
There was always fighting, one way or another, he thought. "A man may always tumble off his horse, or fall down a flight of steps when drunk," he replied lightly.
"I am sure that you are in the habit of falling off your horses." Leah laughed, and then bit her lip to force back a new rush of tears. "And now, my lord, you may anoint the bruise above your thigh. I must go and change my gown for dinner because it makes my father furious if I am late. Your clothing is here on the chest."
She left quickly and ran to her room, not to dress but to throw herself on her bed in a passion of tears. She knew he would never return. She was too happy; she could not be permitted to have such joy unpunished. She cried hysterically, and Edwina, coming in to dress, heard her.
"Leah! What is it? What has happened now? Heaven and earth, what has befallen you?"
"Oh, Mother, something dreadful will happen. I know it. I know it. Nothing good can come of this."
Edwina's face went white as wax. Could Leah have discovered that Pembroke planned Radnor's death? If Radnor was warned and did not go through with the marriage, the whole plan to make an independent kingdom of Wales with Pembroke as its king and herself as its queen would collapse. If Radnor had been warned through Leah's foolishness, Pembroke might really kill his daughter. But how could Leah have heard? What, and how much, had she heard?
"What are you talking about? What happened? Where is Lord Radnor?" But Edwina could get nothing from Leah except an incoherent repetition that something dreadful was about to occur.
Leah could know nothing definite, that was sure. By the time Lord Radnor had entered Pembroke's plans, Leah had been carefully excluded from all the conversations as had everyone not perfectly trustworthy. At first Pembroke had spoken only of obtaining control of Fitz Richard's lands, since the young man was kept a virtual prisoner in London. Slowly the notion of obtaining the lands permanently through forfeiture had developed in Pembroke's mind. It would be so easy to make Chester violate his truce; it would need no more than a hint that the king did not trust Chester and did not treat him with enough courtesy. That was where Radnor had come into the picture. Pembroke knew that the Gaunts would oppose any change of overlordship in Wales, partly because they feared it would wake the wild tribes to rebellion and partly because they did not want Pembroke's power to be increased.
Edwina herself had suggested the marriage. She knew that Leah had to marry, although she hated the idea, and Radnor was out fighting so much that he was the least of the evils in that Leah would be little troubled by his presence. Pembroke had hesitated because he hated the Gaunt family, root and stock, until Edwina pointed out that the blood bond would be a particularly strong one since Radnor had no other close relatives. Surely, she had urged, he would not oppose his own father-by-marriage’s aggrandizement. Edwina remembered very vividly how Pembroke had stared at her, how long he had remained silent with his cold, round eyes getting blanker and blanker. Then he had begun to laugh, and he had actually leant over to kiss her. Even in retrospect, Edwina drew herself together in fear and distaste. Gilbert was so cruel, so wily, and in spite of her efforts he could read her very soul like an open book. He had laughed and laughed.
"How would you like to keep your daughter?" he had asked. "A rich widow with a father to care for her property does not need to marry again. How would you like to be the first lady of Wales?"
There had been no need to wait for an answer. He had touched the only two sensitive spots in Edwina's heart, her love for Leah and her pride. Pembroke had repeated over and over, as if he were savoring the flavor of the words, that Radnor was the only child of an only child. He had neither kith nor kin who could inherit his property or his father's property. When he married, every rod of land and every copper mil would belong to his wife if he died childless.
"You are right indeed, my clever wife. Why should Radnor not marry our Leah? Why should he not die? Even if there was a child, would not that child be best guarded by his wife's father, since Gaunt is so old?" Pembroke had stopped laughing and was picking nervously at his clothes. "It would not be easy. That devil will not be easy to kill so that no man knows I have done it … But it might be done."
Little by little the plan had grown. With Radnor and Gaunt dead—and Gaunt would die by nature very soon for he was nearly three-score years old—there would be no real power in Wales except Pembroke himself. He would be like a king. Like a king? He would be king!
The easiest and least suspicious way for Radnor to die was in battle, but Radnor was cautious and not greedy. He would fight only to defend himself and on his own land. While Pembroke began negotiations for the marriage of Leah to Cain, offering as bait a magnificent dowry, he also began testing this man and that for weakness. Most of Radnor's vassals were steadfastly loyal, for the Gaunts were good overlords, but finally a man with a grievance had been found. He was Sir Robert, the castellan of Radnor Keep.
Pembroke had nearly wept with joy, for Radnor Keep was not far from the border of Fitz Richard's territory. If the Welsh in Fitz Richard's territory could be incited to attack any keep near Radnor Castle, Cain would be caught between the Welsh army and the disloyal Norman garrison. It was a good plan, but not good enough. The Welsh were undependable; Sir Robert might have a change of heart; or Radnor's own great skill as a fighter and leader might save him. Having received some indication that the marriage proposal was being favorably considered, Pembroke began to seek auxiliary methods of insuring his future son-by-marriage's demise.
Pembroke made a quiet trip to London in the winter when few men traveled. Stephen could not make nor keep secret a plot, but in Queen Maud's luxurious solar a man could speak of devious plans and be understood. Even to Maud one could not simply confess a desire to murder one's daughter's husband nor, of course, could one admit aspirations to royalty, but clever as she was she was only a woman. Pembroke found her ears very open to a plan to attack Gloucester from the rear and end the civil war once and for all.
If Chester and Hereford could be attainted when they were at court and could be taken prisoner easily, their estates would not make a solid bar against a royal invasion of Wales. Then only Radnor was left to resist the King's march through that country. Radnor was too cautious politically to fall into the trap as his godfather Chester would, but when Stephen called a council of his barons a tourney would be given. Men died in tourneys too; not as often as they died in war, but matters might be expedited without too great difficulty.
Pembroke did not speak his mind fully to Maud. When he needed to express himself, there was always Edwina, who feared him more than she feared the devil because she was more surely in his power. To her he added the fact that Radnor might not fight in the tourney. That would be the last, most certain, device. There were knives that slipped between ribs in dark passageways; there were arrows that sank deep after singing through quiet courtyards.
Edwina did not know, and did not wish to know, the details.
She knew enough to horrify and revolt her, but Radnor was nothing to her and the prize to be won by conniving at his death was invaluable. Desperately she slapped Leah until the girl's cheeks were flaming red and her sobs quieter.
"Whatever you have heard, or guessed, or dreamt, hold your tongue. If this marriage does not come to pass because of a slip of your tongue, your father will rip it out with hot pincers. Now, wash your face. Dress in your best gown, but do not dare show yourself in the hall until I send for you. Whatever you have marred, I will do my best to amend it. God help us both if I may not make matters smooth."
Edwina threw on her own clothes and rushed into the great hall. Here the sight that met her eyes filled her with relief but also confused her. Lord Radnor, Pembroke, and the Earl of Gaunt were laughing pleasantly enough together over ceremonial goblets of wine. What was plainly the document of marriage settlement lay on the table bearing all three signatures. The clerics who had written out the settlements and witnessed them were making copies to be deposited in the church in case of future argument. Nothing could have exceeded the surface good will of the scene. If Leah guessed something, she had not spoken and now would not. It was more likely, considering Pembroke's care for secrecy, that the child was merely unwilling. That would be excellent as long as her distaste did not communicate itself to Lord Radnor—no, even that did not matter for the betrothal was complete and he could not now withdraw.
What was going forward at the moment Edwina arrived was a discussion of who must be asked to the wedding. Actually this was a serious problem, because Gaunt and his son stood midway between the sides in the civil war. Their sympathies were with Henry of Anjou; their fealty had been given to Stephen. Unlike many others, they were faithful to their sworn word and, although some hated them on both sides, by most their behavior was grudgingly accepted and even respected.
Matilda, the empress, was no problem; she was just about to return to France and would not be likely to delay her departure. Henry likewise was no problem because he had not yet arrived and might not come after all. The most serious question was what to do about King Stephen and Robert, Earl of Gloucester. Both were far too important to ignore, and to have both come to the wedding would be a catastrophe.
Finally Gaunt said that he would write personally to Queen Maud and tell her that she must dissuade Stephen from coming because of the danger to him which would arise from being so deep in enemy territory. To give the king credit, no such argument would have weight with him both because he was a brave man and because he would love to annoy Gloucester. Lord Radnor engaged to contact Philip of Gloucester, Robert's second son and his own close friend, and ask him to keep his father away on the chance that Queen Maud could not control her husband.
Most of the other great magnates who would be invited either were neutrals or had changed sides in the conflict so often that they could mix with each other in relative safety. There was some doubt whether men like the Earl of Chester would be able to remember which side they were on at the moment.
The earl's attention, once the major question was settled, wandered, and he engaged Edwina in conversation. "I am well pleased in this matter." He smiled grimly. "It is good for a young man to have a wife to his liking. I told him two years since to throw off the slut he was playing with and make a marriage, but then he was so hot after her that he would not listen. It is no light thing to ride and fight all day and wander about half the night. Things will be better thus." Gaunt laughed coarsely. "Your daughter has well caught his fancy—so well that he could not lie quiet last night. He thought I slept, but I heard him walking. He will return in great haste. I hope he may keep his mind enough upon the business in hand that we do not lose the northern provinces. I have half a mind to go with him. I had forgot how it was." A bitter expression crossed the old man's face. "But it was so with myself for his mother. I was so fine-drawn by the time we came to bed that I had a fever and lost two stone."
He paused a moment while his mouth grew harder yet, and Edwina felt sick as she thought of what Leah would have to bear. Gaunt had continued speaking, however, and she wrenched her thoughts from her own bitter memories to what he was saying.
"He murdered her—killed her in the bearing, her and the twin who was born with him. I can never forget that, for the other boy was whole and the woman was dear to me. If there had been another to take the lands and the name, I would have strangled him then with my own hands, but I had no other son and as time passed … God Himself has punished him sufficiently; he fears damnation without hope of redemption, and he thinks he bears the mark of Satan on that lame leg."
Gaunt snorted contemptuously and continued, "With such things may a man torture himself if he chooses to meddle with his own soul. I will say for him though that he bears the pain that keeps the memory green bravely, and he is not free of it day or night. That I taught him; I have that satisfaction. And in other ways too he is a good son, but I cannot forget the bitterness he brought with him. I have helped him remember also; I named him Cain for the fratricide he is."
"My lord." Edwina was shocked at the words although there was a puzzling note in the voice that she did not take time to try to understand. Enmity between father and son was common enough in these terrible times, but not for this reason. "I speak as a woman who has borne, and I say that it is no fault of the child if the mother— Ah well," she said as the Earl turned away angrily, "you know your own affairs best. My concern is with my daughter only. Will he be kind to her?"
"When he is so hot for her that he cannot sleep? Oh yes, he will be kind—at least while the heat lasts." Edwina grew pale, but Gaunt did not notice, absorbed by his own thoughts. "No," he said with a frown, "I do him an injustice. He holds hard by his word and is in no way changeable in his affections. Doubtless as he begins he will continue. If your daughter is not as a queen in her own keep and as happy as mortal lot can be, the fault will be in her, not in him. Look at him, he is besotted."
Edwina could not help but feel that this was true, although it did little to comfort her. Lord Radnor was talking soberly enough with her husband, but something about his manner, his expectant glances at the door, an eagerness in his expression, all betrayed that his interest was centered elsewhere. Edwina motioned to a page idling about and told him to fetch Leah. When the girl entered the room, Cain saw at once that she had been crying in spite of the bright red bliaut she had donned to help conceal her blotched complexion. He limped across to her to hand her through the room.
"You are not still concerned for that silly jest of mine?"
"No."
"Then why are your eyes so heavy? There are tears in them still."
"Oh … Oh, it is a woman's foolishness to cry for joy."
Thus far in his life, Radnor had not found that to be true, but then he had not found a girl like this before either. "I know little enough of the ways of such women as you. If you say this, I will believe you, but I urge you to speak the truth to me. As things are with me now, I will forgive you anything—if you tell me plainly—almost anything. If you lie to me, I warn you, you will be sorry for it."
In her naiveté Leah did not realize that what Lord Radnor said did not apply to the type of lie she had told. She took his words quite literally, as she had learned to take her father's statements. Her hand trembled slightly on his, yet her reply took a liberty she would never have dared taken with her father.
"Later, I will tell you later. Please, not here, not now."
Their low voices had not carried in the noise the servants made setting up the tables for dinner. Only Edwina was watching, and she could make nothing of what she saw. If Leah was unwilling to take Lord Radnor as her husband, the girl was displaying a duplicity Edwina had never believed to be part of her character. Yet it was apparent that her crying had not been caused by any quarrel with Lord Radnor, for there she was speaking with him in the low, intense tones of intimacy. Of course they had been together all day. It was barely possible, in the light of what Gaunt had said, that Leah had yielded willingly or been forced to yield to him and was suffering the revulsion which Edwina was sure came with that. Even this notion did not seem to be correct, because when Lord Radnor was separated from Leah by the seating arrangements of the table, he watched her with a look of avidity that did not, to Edwina's limited knowledge, augur satisfaction.
"Lord Radnor," Pembroke called across Edwina to him, "you go to the summoning of the barons this summertide. What do you think Stephen wants?"
"What does he always want but money and men? What he hopes to achieve when he knows that he has let all power slip from him is more my question. He has probably heard the rumor of Henry's coming and, I can but believe, seeks to gauge the support he will have or seeks by bribes and intimidation to gather more."
"So I think too. But why, when you believe this and you know he cannot compel you, do you go? I do not."
"He goes," growled Gaunt, "because I say so."
"Yes, I suppose he would not if you bid him nay, but why do you say so?"
"Because I have done homage to Stephen. I am his man, damn his eyes, and I will not be forsworn. We are sworn to provide him with men and arms for the holding of our lands and each time we must prove anew to the council that those forces are honestly expended in defence of the realm against the Welsh. It is a waste of time for Cain to go so far, and it puts me to great labor for which I am growing too old in taking his place on the field, but I would not have it said of us that we did not obey our overlord's summons honestly."
"My father speaks the truth, but there is more in it than that alone. God only knows what imprudences the king may be beguiled into committing—or paid to commit. It is most needful to be there to oversee what occurs and, if necessary, to counter against what is intended. I should think the head sitting a little loose on my shoulders if I were not there when the wolves gathered."
"Your head may sit a little loose on your shoulders through being there."
"Mayhap. But I may be able to ward the blow that will overset it completely if I can see it coming."
"Ah, well, you know best the state of these matters. I would not run when Stephen called unless it suited my purpose." Pembroke's eyes held an odd, calculating expression. "But in these times, would it not be better to leave your wife behind?"
"Oh no!" The protest was startled out of Leah who had been listening intently. She covered her lips with her hand immediately and drew back, but not quickly enough to escape the backhand blow her father dealt her.
Almost before the smack had landed, Radnor was on his feet, his hand fumbling for the sword that was unaccustomedly missing from his side.
"How dare you!" His voice was choked with rage. "My wife! How dare you strike my wife!" Radnor would have launched himself bodily at his prospective father-by-marriage, but Edwina stood before him, clinging to his arms, and Gaunt had interposed his own body in front of Pembroke.
Leah cried out in agony, "Oh, my lord, I pray you—" and the men at the long tables in the hall began to growl and rise.
Pembroke, yellow-pale, forced himself to laugh heartily. "Such a to-do over a slap to a girl." And then as Cain snarled like an animal and threatened to break from Edwina's grasp, "Nay, nay—I beg your pardon, Lord Radnor, but think you, she has been my daughter longer than she has been betrothed to you, and it is not my custom to be said nay in my own household."
Slowly the alarming red of Lord Radnor's scars faded to their normal white. "No doubt that is true, and I beg pardon in my turn for offering you violence in your own home. But her behavior is my problem now. While I am here, I pray you, let me attend to it." They all resumed their seats; Leah could eat no more, however, and although Cain went on with his meal he had little enough appetite and his lips were set in grim lines.
Pembroke shook his head, wondering what had caused Lord Radnor's excitement. He could only decide that his future son-by-marriage had a tremendous sense of possession. What he failed to see, never having experienced anything similar himself, was the passionate attachment that Radnor was developing for his daughter. "I have heard also," he continued as if no interruption had taken place, "that Stephen gives a great tourney. Are you entered in the lists, Radnor?"
The Earl of Gaunt's head lifted sharply and Cain stared fixedly at Pembroke. "You above all should not ask," he replied. "You, I hear, suggested my name as king's champion for that tourney."
Pembroke shrugged. "He put it upon me because he desires to make bad blood between us. You may believe I suggested no such task for my son-by-marriage. You should have had sufficient sense to refuse to go to London at all. What if Stephen should hope to take this simple way to be rid of you?"
Leah gave a small gasp which Pembroke ignored, but Cain's eyes flew to her. "Much hope he has of that," he replied with assurance. "I have spent fifteen years under arms. Am I likely to be overset by a dulled jousting lance? There will be little enough to fear on Stephen's score. I take a full complement of well-tried fighting men with me, and I am no babe in arms. Also, my father remains behind as a free agent. While he holds Painscastle and our lands, it would be madness for the king to attack me."
"Openly! Which is why I beg you to beware the tourney."
"Nonsense. If I have not been killed in war, no man will kill me in a game of war."
Gaunt lowered his head over his food and did not lift it again, but his eyes were at once wary and blind-looking.
Cain continued speaking. "I am truly concerned about matters other than Stephen's like or dislike. This business of Henry's coming, if it be true, is like to throw all into disorder again. The new Earl of Hereford is solidly behind him and is a hotheaded youth. Gloucester is always willing to spite Stephen, and might contrive, although I know him to be drained dry by these years of war, to send the boy some help. If Chester should again change sides, the whole bloody war will be in full force and with as little hope of success this time as last."
"True enough, but I cannot see what good can come of meddling. Sit firm on your own lands. As you yourself said, you have enough to do there."
"Ay, if I could, mayhap I would, but with each change of fortune in England, the Welsh seek to be free of us. If I could but see some hope of success with Henry, I might close my eyes and let happen what will, but Stephen is still too strong. Many feel still as you said you felt last night—that Stephen's yoke is lighter than Henry's may be. If Henry comes, the land will be bled white again; crops will rot in the fields because there will be none to harvest them and famine will stalk us all. And all for nothing!"
"But you cannot prevent him from coming."
"Alas, I cannot, but mayhap I can convince him to go home again—I and others—until the time is more ripe. If Stephen can be made to renew his promise to make Henry his heir and speak the boy fair, I think it can be done. His disposition, as I remember it, did not seem unyielding like his mother's. He seemed a reasonable lad."
"But in this melee of policy, is it well to bring an untried girl?"
Radnor's face darkened alarmingly, but his voice did not change. "I hope she may listen and hold her tongue. To be silent at her time of life is meet and fitting, and by listening with closed mouth one may hear much. It would be well for me to know what is said in the women's quarters."
"Radnor," Pembroke said scornfully, "a girl of fifteen?"
"I think, Pembroke, it would be better not to discuss this matter further. I count on your training to enforce silence on her and your assurance that she is not simple to enable her to repeat what she hears."
"Who can trust a woman among women?"
Radnor's eyes kindled, showing red lights in the brown, but Gaunt veiled his and began to laugh. He swallowed a huge chunk of venison from the blade of his knife and raised his harsh voice into the tense silence. "You will never convince him, Gilbert. Can you not see that he cares nothing for her head if her body is with him. Look you, he is so hot after her that he shows blue beneath the eyes already. How he will last out these two moons, I cannot tell."
A slow dark flush dyed Cain's face, causing his scars to stand out whiter still. Gaunt laughed again.
"Well, Gilbert, look. Have I not touched him on the raw?"
The victim of the gibe stood up, rocking the table, said that he had eaten his fill, and that Leah should accompany him for he had something to say to her. This caused a new burst of merriment from the older men. Cain turned his head from one to the other like a dog-baited bear and then left the hall precipitately. Leah rose immediately. For the first time in her life she looked neither at her mother nor her father for permission but followed her new master out on to the battlements.
In the hall, Pembroke had continued the argument with Gaunt. He pointed out a variety of disagreeable results that could come about from taking a young girl to Stephen's loose-lived court. Gaunt only laughed.
"You Norman-Saxons do not understand the hot blood of the Welsh that runs in our veins. Cain has double portion. Both mother and grandmother came from the mad tribes of the mountains—princesses in their own land and heavily dowered when their menfolk … er … died." There was meaning in Gaunt's eyes, and he paused infinitesimally before continuing. "Besides, it would serve him right enough if she wrung his withers by casting her eyes about."
"So his blood runs hot," Pembroke expostulated. "Are there not women enough in the fields and the town to cool it on? A man's heir should be his own. Thus it is that women are kept in their own castles."
"Well, he was never one for either serfs or greensleeves. Not but what he is a man, after all, and driven to it often enough." Gaunt shook his head. "He will keep her too busy to look elsewhere, if I know him, but mainly, I think, it is the nonsense that comes from the south that he is forever reading. The true lord and his true lady—love—faugh! Women bring nothing but grief. They either die or are dishonest. If a man must love, there is God or the Virgin."
"But that is stuff for women to maudle their brains with."
"Ay, ay, but there are men enough caught by it. Just because you and I are sensible men, Gilbert, do not think that others are also. You know the tourney prizes are all women's gauds now. It is the latest fashion. Once a man could win a prize that was worth risking his head for, good arms or good horses. They give the jewels to the women too. There would be some sense in it if the men kept them. Of course, there is still the horse and armor ransom to be gained. Cain and I have both made good golden coins enough by that road, and he will surely reap a rich harvest at the royal tourney. Times are changed, sadly changed. I tell you that if your girl gives my son a man-child, I will be glad enough to finish here. Of course, if she does not breed, the lands will not go through her."
Pembroke grunted and drank. Whom did Gaunt think he could fool? There was no one else, for Gaunt had been an only son and Cain was an only son. When Radnor was dead everything would go to his girl whether or not she bred. Would he have planned this marriage so carefully if there had been a chance that the lands of Gaunt could go elsewhere than to Leah?