Bond of Blood (19 page)

"Ohhhh. And what gave you such a thought?"

"Because she asked me in passing, as if it were a matter of no moment, about your affairs."

"And what did you reply?" Cain was startled by the intelligence in his wife's eyes.

"That I knew nothing. Which was true, but I would have said the same in any case. Your affairs are no business of hers. It could be that she did not speak the truth about—about the matters of her bed and only wished to draw my confidence because it was my first time and she thought, like my mother, that I would be angry because you hurt me. I would swear though that it was truth and that though she loathes him, she would have run posthaste to her husband with anything I told her. Mayhap I do her an injustice, my lord, and she was only a little talkative because of the wine."

Cain was watching open-mouthed and made no reply, so Leah continued after a little pause. "I almost thought that she wished to make trouble between us—but that could not be so. It must be that she wishes to know where you will next move for Shrewsbury's sake. Therefore, I should have something to tell her, my lord."

"Tell her! What would you tell her?"

"Anything you wished me to say, but I would not say that you had given permission. I would say that I heard you speak of these things with my father and yours."

Pembroke's daughter, born a liar and a cheat! "Even so," Cain said coldly, "why should Lady Shrewsbury, or any other person, believe you?"

"My lord, I do not say she will believe, but indeed she may. In any case she will talk and much can be learned from lies. And, if I am skilful in reply, hesitating as if the confidence was drawn from me unaware—have I spoken amiss, my lord?"

"My God, I would never have believed it. I have read it, but I could not credit—"

"What? How have I erred?"

Cain laughed a short bitter laugh. "Not even Pembroke could have taught you so much. I believe you have spoken the truth of your heart, if there is truth in the heart of a woman. But fifteen years old, and wise as the serpent—and as evil."

"Evil!"

"Ay, they say women are born with the knowledge of evil in their bodies, and that they save this to give their daughters to use as a weapon against men. The men children they bring strong, but unknowing, into the world. Man must learn evil, to his bitter cost, mostly from women, but sometimes from other men who have learned. Have you learned this from your father to use against me?"

Leah cried out in protest against this injustice. "But it was for you, my lord. For myself I care nothing about such matters. You said before you left when we were betrothed that I should listen in the women's quarters, and I have thought much over every word you said to me—"

"So Eve spoke when she bade Adam eat the apple of sin—for you, my lord, for you. Nay, Leah, do not weep. It is no fault in you that you are as God made you."

He took her into his arms, knowing that he should try to impress upon her the idea that her father was no good guide to follow, knowing that he should tell her that he was leaving in the morning to put down the rebellion that her father had started in Wales. While he was seeking for words, her appearance warmed his blood. She must be ignorant of Pembroke's tainted plans and in a way innocent too, he thought. She would not show the turnings of her mind if she wished to use them against him. He leaned over and, with his lips, touched her breast where it began to swell near the armpit; he breathed her light lavender scent.

Leah lay staring into the unsnuffed candles and thinking that it had been easier this time. The trouble was that now Cain was through with her she found herself wakeful and tense. She wanted something more of him. Cain had turned onto his side, away from her, as was his custom, and Leah touched him gently, He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"Are you asleep, Cain?"

"How can a man sleep when you hiss in his ear. Let me be!" Leah moved away at once, but she felt alone and sad and began to weep softly, "Curse you, woman, what ails you? If I hurt you, I could not help it. It will grow easier for you in time."

Leah buried her face in the pillow to smother her sobs. After a while she stopped crying and lay listening to Radnor's even breathing, broken every so often by a low moan. She could see the moonlight shift on the floor.

"Leah." It was spoken so low it could not have wakened her if she slept.

"Yes, my lord?" Cain did not answer at once, and Leah felt him shift his position in the bed. "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "Is there something wrong?"

"No." He sounded hesitant, and weakly putting off the moment of revelation, said, "I am hungry."

Leah sat up and began to feel for her shoes. "I will fetch something for you. I pray you, do not be impatient, it will take me time to find the way with all the sleepers in the passage."

By the time Leah returned, Cain had found flint and tinder and had lighted some new candles to replace those that had burned out. He was sitting up, a robe thrown over his bare shoulders, and when Leah entered he pulled the bedclothes so that they covered his feet. Leah hesitated infinitesimally, her throat closing with fear. Was one leg shaggier than the other? Could that dark, rounded shadow glimpsed for an instant be a horn hoof? A half-frown brought her hurriedly to the bed. He was already cross with her; if she showed fear or consciousness of what he was hiding, the worst might befall her at once.

"I could not find a goblet in the dark, but if this does not please you, there are other meats."

The trembling voice made Cain more ashamed of his earlier severity. "Anything will do," he said gently.

Leah slipped off her gown and lay down again, the kindness of his tone already soothing her terror. Radnor began to eat slowly, cracking the bones of a wing. He turned his body to glance at Leah sidelong; her face had no particular expression, but her eyelids were still a little reddened.

"I thank you," he said even more softly. "You are very kind."

"It was nothing."

Cain found his mouthful unaccountably hard to swallow. "I am sorry if I was sharp. To trouble a man with talk after he has made love is no wise thing. That is a time for sleeping." So that was why he was angry! The logical explanation lifted Leah's spirits. "If you do not correct me, my lord, I cannot know. I will not do so again."

"You are a good girl, Leah, and most obedient to me. I wish … I have news for you, and not good news. I must go into Wales again." Surprisingly she made no answer, and new doubt tore at Cain. "Your father has aroused my own men against me," he added softly, wanting to hurt her, wanting to see her fear.

It was apparent even in the candlelight that she had paled. "Is that true, my lord?"

"Is it like that I would tell such a lie?" Would she deny complicity in her father's schemes or beg him not to go?

Leah lay mute, paralyzed. She did not dare speak out against her father. If she had no loyalty to her father, her husband would think she could have no loyalty to any man. Cain could not know how cruel Pembroke was to her, and even if he knew, he would not accept that as an excuse for disloyalty. Cain himself would expect his wife to be loyal even if he were cruel to her. Tears stung Leah's eyes, but she forced them back. She did not even dare cling to Cain and beg him not to leave her. He had told her that her tears unmanned him; her mother had told her that clinging to a man disgusted him.

"You do not seem to care," Cain said in a deceptively gentle voice.

"II hope it is some mistake," Leah faltered, "but you know all things best and you must do what is right."

"And what will you do when I am gone?"

Leah could master her sobs, but now the tears could be held back no longer. "I will do as you bid me do, my lord."

"Even if I bid you go to Painscastle alone and bide my coming there?"

She had been staring straight ahead, but now she faced him, the tears drying on her cheeks. "Yes, my lord. Oh yes. Even if you bid me come with you to Wales, I would come gladly."

Life had come back into her voice. Cain bit his lip in an agony of indecision. She sounded as if she cared nothing for him in one moment, yet in the next she wept and offered to endure the miseries of camp and dangers of war to be with him. It could be that Philip was right, that Pembroke had told Leah to stay with her husband at all times and bind him to her will.

"I cannot take a woman to battle with me; I must leave at dawn tomorrow. You could not be ready and, even if you could, the forests of Wales are no place for a frail girl."

"You will not leave me here, my lord! Pray, pray, do not!"

"No," Cain said coldly. "If I have not returned before my father leaves this place, he will take you with him and set you safe at Painscastle so that you may begin your work as a wife."

Now would come the flood of tears, the hysterical protests. Leah must know she could be no use to her father shut up in Painscastle alone. But there was no protest. Leah merely sighed as if some weight of fear had been taken from her. Perhaps she was not false; perhaps she was only afraid of Pembroke and wished to be out of his power. It was a comforting thought, and Cain clung to it.

The thought made it possible for him to return warmly Leah’s farewell embraces in the dawn and to reply encouragingly to her trembling pleas that he care well for himself. He would try to believe her innocent until she proved she was Pembroke's ally or dupe.

Lord Radnor pulled at the lacings of his mail hood. He wished that he were lying with his head in Leah's lap, and his eyes had started to cloud when a peculiar sound snapped his mind into the present. An owl was calling. An owl? At midmorning? Cain pulled his horse to the side and motioned the men following him to proceed. The troop continued past him until Giles was in sight. Directly in front of the master-of-arms, where he could watch them, rode two men who were dressed in ragged clothing and completely unarmed. Radnor pulled his horse into line just in front of them and, as soon as he came to a slightly open stretch, gestured them forward. He addressed them in Welsh, because they spoke no French or English.

"Bring me the man who hooted like an owl, and the partner to whom he cried. Do not lose yourselves. Remember that your wives and children are hostage to me. If there are more than two in the wood, I wish to know it."

Pwyll and Cei slipped from their horses, which were only moving at a slow walk because the troop in front had reached a section of heavy undergrowth. They did not even trouble to look their hate at Radnor because he would not care. All he cared about was that they would follow his orders faithfully, and that they would surely do, for Lord Radnor had proved in the past that he could be perfectly merciless to hostages. Pwyll handed a lead rein to the trooper ahead of him and Cei attached his lead rein to the saddle loop of the preceding horse. Then they moved quietly into the underbrush, the sounds of their passing completely concealed by the heavy tread of the horses. Lord Radnor had fallen back farther now and, first pointing to his ear, motioned Giles ahead to lead the men. Usually the Welsh attacked from the rear, trying to pick off a man at a time or to throw the entire group into confusion, but sometimes they would make a direct frontal attack and Radnor wanted a responsible man at the head of the column.

Cain pulled his helmet around from his back where it hung from a thong, and put it on, pulling down the strip of mail that made a double shield for his neck over the mail hood. In spite of this protection, the hair on his nape prickled and his breath came a little short. He knew perfectly well that the situation was not good; his men were forced by the vegetation to travel in single file, which left them singularly open to attack.

What would be best was to look for open ground and form into a defensive position, but what if there were no enemies but the watcher and the man to whom the signal was given? How foolish they would look, and what a tale to be carried to the Welsh encampments—that the Marcher lords were frightened of one Welshman or even less, an owl's hoot. Besides, Radnor could feel his fingers itch to grip the hilt of his sword. He almost willed the flight of the first arrow that would signal the beginning of the fight.

There was, however, no flight of arrows, and Radnor Castle was reached without further incident. In view of what had occurred in the forest, Lord Radnor stopped at the castle. They had nothing to tell; there were rumors, the people were restless, but when was it not so? Sir Robert, the castellan, said that Owen of Wells was a young fool and afraid of his own shadow. Lord Radnor blandly agreed with Sir Robert and, saying he wished to empty his bladder, called Giles aside.

"Choose now a faithful man and send him post-haste to my father. One message he will carry in his purse, another in his head. For his head, he is to tell my father to come to Radnor Keep without delay. If men are available, he should bring them, otherwise his own guard will be sufficient, I believe, but haste is most necessary."

Giles nodded. "Something is rotten at the top of this heap of rock. The bottom is sound enough. I have been idly talking here and there, and I warrant my ears that the men know nothing. Do we stay until the Earl comes, or go, my lord?"

"We must go to Owen at Penybont. He is not a man to call me from my own wedding lightly. Also, send Cedric and someone else out to watch and stop the Welshmen. It will be better to question them away from here because doubtless the trapped birds will not sing well if Sir Robert be their trainer. I do not like it any way it is turned, for once out of the gates who knows whether we will come in so easily again?"

Giles turned his head and spat; Radnor shrugged in agreement. He felt slightly sick at what he had discovered because he would have sworn, until that day, that the men who governed the Gaunt strongholds would be faithful. What could have been offered the castellan of Radnor to make him plot treason was a puzzle. If he was fortunate, Cain thought, he would soon know, and if he was not, he would care nothing about any earthly matter. He paused on his way to the hall, repressing a faint qualm. Whatever he had expected, rebellion in his own keeps was a complete surprise to him. Possibly he was not meant to return; possibly he was accursed, as his father had told him when he was a child, and the Gaunt line would end with him.