Bond of Blood (17 page)

Harry Beaufort, a knight who had come for the jousting, found his path blocked by Leah and her husband, and felt a twinge of envy at Lord Radnor's station in life. A man only found a wife like that when he could afford to pick and choose; so pretty and so kind and gentle. She had great estates, for Pembroke's daughter must, but knights errant did not look at pretty girls with great estates. The herald's trumpets blared out the notes that called for the beginning of combat. Sir Harry ran off towards his end of the lists and Lord and Lady Radnor quickened their steps towards their seats.

The first two jousters rode into position. Their names were called, both signaled readiness, set spurs to their horses, and came together with an ear-splitting crash. Leah squealed with excitement and clutched Cain's arm. With unconscious tension he pressed her hand against his side, and Leah could feel the heavy pounding of his heart through tunic and gown. This distracted her from the combatants, who were both slowly picking themselves up while esquires of the field caught their horses and led them back. She looked attentively at her husband. His breath was coming rather quickly, and a fanatical light gave red glimmers to the dark brown eyes. When the next course was run, Leah, attending now to him rather than the joust, could feel Cain's muscles responding to the gait of the horses, could see his shoulders brace and twitch as the lances met.

"Look, Cain, there is Lord Hereford. He is next. Oh, I wish him well, indeed I do."

"Then sit down and do not distract his attention. You are more like to get him killed than to bring him good fortune by leaping to your feet and calling his name."

Again a slight uneasiness swept over Radnor although it disappeared almost instantaneously as he saw Hereford go into action. He swelled with the pride of vicarious accomplishment as he watched his pupil's perfect form and he offered no criticism when Leah leapt to her feet again with a pleased cry as Hereford kept his seat and sent his opponent flying over the horse's croup.

Six more courses were run. Leah subsided from the fever of excitement into a calmer enjoyment. At the seventh run, however, an improperly held shield and old, worn harness concerted to cause a common enough accident. The dull jousting lance, driven by the full force of two heavy horses' gallops, pierced and ripped open one rider. Bowels and blood spilled over the saddle; the knight screamed and fell; attendants rushed forward to see what could be done.

Radnor winced instinctively but showed no other reaction; indeed he had none, for these things always happened at tourneys. That was what lent the sport its charm. Leah, however, turned deathly pale. It was her husband's form she saw toppling from the horse, dead in a few hours if not dead already. The strength that held her upright in her seat voiceless and motionless came to her without volition. The course was cleared and the eighth, ninth, and tenth jousts took place before the mist which obscured her vision cleared; Radnor, completely absorbed in the sport, noticed nothing.

"There now," Cain said, turning to Leah and pointing, "that man with the shield barred
gules et or
will be Hereford's only real competition. His seat is excellent and his technique beautiful. It will depend on the eagerness of the jouster and the strength of the horse. See, it is as I said, he has unhorsed his opponent. He carries his shield inward a little, though. If Hereford hits him slightly on the far side to his body, the point may hold."

"Will Lord Hereford notice that too, my lord?" With immense effort Leah's voice was steady and her expression one of quiet interest.

"I hope so. He deserves a fall if he does not notice, for I have told him often enough that he must take account of every quirk of behavior no matter how small or insignificant."

The event took place just as Radnor predicted when Hereford and Sir Harry Beaufort were the only two remaining jousters. The first shock was inconclusive, both lances shattering on impact; the second shattered Sir Harry's lance, but Hereford missed his point so that his weapon slid harmlessly off the slightly concave shield. For the third and last encounter, Sir Harry determined to try the difficult and dangerous helmet point; if he hit, his opponent would certainly be unhorsed and might very likely be killed. It went a little against the grain. but Sir Harry was desperate.

He was a knight errant, a younger son of a minor baron who could give him nothing except a good training in the use of arms, good armor, a good horse, a little money, and his best wishes. From then on the young man was on his own. He had only three choices for keeping alive; he could, if he was fortunate, take service with one of the great lords of the land; he could travel from tournament to tournament living on the ransom money and prizes collected from each opponent unhorsed in the jousts or downed in the melee; he could turn robber, and prey on travellers or on the poor.

Unfortunately Sir Harry had found no great lord to favor him, and he had been unlucky of late. The last two tourneys had been similar to this one—he had ridden successfully to the last fall and then been unhorsed himself. Worse yet, his opponents had not been generous and had taken from him all that he won in previous jousts. He was tired; he wanted to go home for a while, but not penniless as a beggar and he had not yet sunk so low as to steal. It sat ill with him to try to kill so good a jouster, but he had no choice; he could not take the chance of a fall or a draw with the decision against him.

Radnor saw the slightly raised lance point and grew rigid. He could hardly prevent himself from calling a warning although he knew nothing could be more dangerous than to distract Hereford's attention. He had scarcely time to pray that Hereford too would see the aim of the lance before the run was completed. All over. Radnor's work had been well done, and Sir Harry was rolling himself painfully to his knees as Hereford turned his tired horse back to the judges' benches to make a final salute.

Radnor rose and walked as quickly as was possible for him towards Sir Harry who was dejectedly about to mount the horse that had been returned to him.

"Sir—I did not catch your name—wait. I would have a word with you."

"Yes?"

"What is your name and condition?"

Ordinarily Sir Harry would have questioned a stranger's right to demand such information, but he knew Radnor by reputation. "Sir Harry Beaufort, youngest brother of Miles Beaufort of Warwickshire."

"Did you mean to kill Lord Hereford in that last encounter?" Radnor continued.

Sir Harry looked into the dark angry face above him and answered with the courage of despair. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it is very likely that I will not have the ransom which will be asked of me."

Lord Radnor was deflated. There was no plot against Hereford as he had feared. He had never had need for money himself, being, as his mother's heir rich from birth, but he had come often enough into contact with knights errant at tournaments to understand their dire need.

"Well, in that case—"

He hesitated, somewhat at a loss while Sir Harry took off his helm and pushed back his mail hood. The face that looked into Radnor’s was engaging, plain and freckled with sandy hair and blue eyes, hard now with anxiety. Radnor touched his scarred mouth as he often did when making a decision.

"Let that not worry you, Sir Harry,” Radnor said. “You are a brave jouster. I will make good the ransom. Are you a good man in the melee also?"

For a stunned moment Harry Beaufort could not answer and leaned against his horse studying the severe countenance before him. "Tolerably good, my lord," he said finally.

"Well, do your best so that I may judge your worth. Come to me … Hell and damnation, when will I find time? The best I can tell you is to come, if you are whole when this is over, to the great hall and stand within my sight and wait. When I am free, I will speak with you. There is always a need for strong fighters in my household. If you are looking for a place, perhaps we may suit each other."

Lord Radnor turned away and limped back towards his wife without waiting to be thanked. He did not ordinarily employ men who had been knighted, but it would be necessary now to form a household guard for Leah. Giles would be perfect, but in truth Radnor could not spare Giles, who was like an extension of himself. Of his other men, none had the habit of easy intercourse with gentlewomen. Sir Harry might do very well if after a period of personal service he appeared trustworthy.

At first Leah was more thrilled than her husband by the noise and rush of the afternoon's melee. In the beginning the fighting was good-humored enough, but this stage could not last and soon tempers rose. After a little more than an hour, as the odor of blood and dust became more and more overpowering, Leah found her excitement waning and her fear rising again. Every man who fell or cried out was her husband, and only the visual and aural evidence of his complete enjoyment of the sport kept her from bursting into tears and running away. Radnor was having a wonderful time. The harder the fighting grew, the higher his spirits rose. He spent at least half the time on his feet shouting advice, comment, and appreciation at the top of his lungs.

"My lady looks a little pale and tired." A silken male voice in Leah's ear startled her out of one more fearful dream, and she turned gladly to answer.

"It is so noisy and the—I am not used to so much excitement."

William of Gloucester leaned intimately nearer. "Some women love this, some men also. Lord Radnor never seems to grow tired of fighting; it is his greatest passion. You, I can see, are all womanly compassion. I can sympathize with you deeply for I too grow nauseated by so much useless bloodshed. My father, however, is like your husband and I have witnessed thousands of such spectacles."

"I am sure it is all very interesting," Leah said, firing up in Cain's defense, "only I do not perfectly understand what is happening and I am rather tired because—"

"You do not need to explain," William replied, possessing himself of her hand and patting it gently. "Radnor is a great man, but he has spent all his life in battle. I am sure he was rough with you, poor child."

Leah's face flamed and she snatched back her hand. The idea that she would discuss such a matter or complain of her husband to another man was utterly revolting to her. Lord William, wise in the ways of women, saw that he had trod amiss and began again.

"Tomorrow will be a quieter day for you, unless Lord Radnor insists that you hunt too."

Leah had averted her face, but this was an unexceptionable subject and anything was better than attending to the fighting and having her imagination torture her. "I do love the hunt," she confessed, "but I fear I am not up to the riding that will be done tomorrow. My mother has plans for the entertainment of the ladies who do not hunt also; I believe she counts upon my presence. Of course," she added hastily, not wishing Lord William to think that she placed her mother's commands above her husband's, "if my lord desires that I go, I will attend him."

"Spoken like a good wife," William said blandly, "but you need not exhaust yourself to satisfy Radnor's whim. Remember that his strength is greater than yours and if he asks for more than you can perform it is merely lack of understanding on his part, not deliberate unkindness."

The murmur of voices had slowly penetrated Radnor's concentration. He turned quickly, masking the hard, angry look on his face in a flash. "Sorry, William, I was enjoying the spectacle so much I did not notice you. Did you want me?"

"Not really. I saw that your lady was looking a little weary, and I thought I would entertain her in a less violent way for a while." There was a warning in William's voice.

Radnor looked at Leah anxiously. Certainly now that William of Gloucester had drawn his attention to it, he could see that her face was tired and seemed almost translucent with pallor. Leah herself, however, energetically disclaimed fatigue.

"I am not at all tired," she said, casting a reproachful glance at Lord William, which shocked him because he totally misunderstood it. "I am only a little frightened by the noise and the violence and by not understanding what is taking place."

"Shall I take you back?"

"And spoil your pleasure, my lord? Certainly not. I am perfectly content to be here."

Lord William had risen and taken Leah's hand to kiss. He bowed his farewell and left without further words, but he was deeply concerned. That look Leah had given him was an indication that she did not wish to speak to him when her husband was attending. A most unhealthy indication in so fair-speaking and so newly married a lady. If Leah was so soon looking abroad for amusement, she might seek it in the wrong places at court.

William's decision, made in a moment, cost him no pain; he had certain loyalties, but sexual loyalty was not among them, and although he trusted Lord Radnor, he did not like him. If Radnor's wife desired amusement, William would provide it for her, discreetly, safely, and with great pleasure. Lord Radnor, that mighty warrior, would be cuckolded before he was a month married, and none the wiser.

Innocently enough, Leah had not the faintest notion of the thoughts passing through the mind of the handsome man who had shown her such flattering attention. She could not help being pleased on the whole, although she was at the moment very much annoyed by Lord William's stupidity in bringing her uneasiness to her husband's attention. It took her ten minutes to convince Cain that she was happy to remain where she was and that she was not tired. Even then she could not relax and close her eyes because he would break off watching the fighting to look at her with a worried frown. When he did lead her back to the castle, directly after the trumpets sounded retreat, he took her to the room that had been given over to them for their short stay at Eardisley.

"I care not what you say, Leah, you are tired. You are as white as my shirt. Stay here and allow no one to trouble you. Lie down and rest. Where are your women? Shall I send someone to call them?"

"Oh no. Truly, I am well if a little tired."