Bond of Blood (43 page)

Lord Radnor had been taught in a far different school. An abomination to his father in his childhood, he had been the unprotected butt of the servants. When he had been taught to fence afoot, an exercise completely unsuited to a child crippled as he was, and he wept with the pain, he had been called a coward and taunted and tormented doubly. Any confession of physical illness or discomfort had been taken by his stepmother, a woman who was unable to produce a son of her own and who had less use for him than his father, as a sign of poor spirit.

The advent of Giles as his tutor had saved him from complete destruction by tempering with mercy what was necessary for him to learn to defend himself, but by that time the lesson of shame was too deeply ingrained. When Radnor was really hurt, he was silent.

Her ignorance of his background bred in Leah the terror that, although he did not look it, he was too weak to cry out. She sat, therefore, in a silence equal to his as the candlemarks passed, afraid to speak lest she disturb him and watching every breath in and out before she was convinced that he was not dying from some hidden injury. The room darkened steadily, and Leah finally rose with a sigh of relief to call for light. If any change in his condition had taken place, it was certainly for the better.

He was breathing more easily and truly seemed to be resting. She set the candles she had called for so that Cain would not be disturbed by their glow and, with a little return towards normalcy, took up her sewing.

"Leah."

"Yes, love, I am here." She touched his right hand gently, secretly feeling for the dreaded cold that sometimes preceded putrefaction, but the fingers were warm and flexible and curled around to hold hers.

"Is it thoroughly dark outside?"

"Yes, my lord, it is night. Do not talk. Try to sleep. Does the light trouble you?"

"Is Giles here?"

"Downstairs."

"Tell him that I must speak with Philip of Gloucester at once. God send he will be well enough to come to me, for I cannot go to him."

"You mean now?"

"Yes, now. Do not fret me, Leah. You can only tire me with argument, and I will have my way." Leah put her lips to his forehead, but it was cool and moist. His pulse too affirmed that he had, as yet, no fever. It was perhaps a little faster than usual, but strong and steady. "I am not fevered. You may do my bidding in safety," he commented, recognizing the purpose behind her gestures. "I could eat too, if you could thrust a pillow behind me."

That was good. That was wonderful. Dying men do not ask for food, nor when it is brought do they eat with appetite. Leah put down the empty spoon.

"Will you lie down again, my lord?"

"Not yet. The moving up and down is the worst, and I must be able to see to speak with Philip."

Leah was silent for a while, sitting with the bowl in her lap. "Love," she said tentatively, "I have something to say to you." Cain's eyes opened quickly. It was most unusual for his wife to preface a casual remark in that way. "You will be abed for sometime," she continued hesitantly, "and it is plain that you cannot bend." Cain's puzzled frown looked his enquiry. "You cannot lie all that time with your shoes on," she faltered. "Oh, do not look so black. I will not touch you unless you bid me. I will call anyone you desire to do it if you do not trust me—"

Radnor turned his head away without reply and stared at the black opening of the window. What his wife said was true. Sooner or later he had to have that boot off, and no effort. of will would permit him to do it himself in a reasonable time. The terrors of his childhood, so far away and so vivid, made him so sick that perspiration beaded out all over his body. Through those early years the Earl of Gaunt had been like a madman. He could not kill his only son, for he could not seem to father another child, but he could try to release his own fury and grief and his frustration in his second marriage by tormenting the child.

Goaded beyond endurance one time, Cain had torn off his left shoe exposing his foot and had cried out that he had only a crippled foot—not a cloven hoof, not a cloven hoof. The half-mad father had turned his back on the screaming child.

"You see a crippled foot—I see a cloven hoof," he said.

He had not meant that literally, of course. He had been bitterly sorry for the words the instant they were out of his mouth; as atonement he had even bestowed a rare caress on his shuddering son, had even said he was sorry, but a seven-year-old could not understand the agonies of a lonely and embittered adult and took the mumbled apology to be remorse for bringing a monster into the world. Cain had never again allowed anyone to see his foot, and the words, after more than twenty years, were still seared into his memory.

Philip of Gloucester sat back in the red-cushioned, highbacked chair which had been drawn as close as possible to Radnor's bed and regarded his foster brother with a jaundiced eye. His voice, when he finally regained sufficient breath to speak, held a mixture of tenderness and exasperation.

"If I ever saw such a great fool! Look at you."

Lord Radnor smiled mischievously. "But for once I was doing just as you are always bidding me. If my heart had ruled my head, I would not be lying here now."

"You mean if your lust to fight had not ruled both, you would not be lying here."

"Nay, Philip," Radnor replied seriously, "I swear I had little enough lust to fight this time. I knew what lay before me."

"Which, if I know you aright, would but lend spice to the meat."

"No longer. I have a wife to leave behind me now, and—but I waste breath of which, as you may see, I am short. How are you, Philip?"

"To ask after my health is not to waste breath?"

"Not this time. If you steel your will, could you sit in council this week? I would not ask you. I would be carried there myself, but—"

"Oh, you are mad—mad," Philip said disgustedly. "Nay, you are not mad, you are feeble-minded. Do you desire to finish the work so nobly begun? Be jostled around a little over the cobbles and down the stairs? Put one of those ribs through your lungs? That would end it, completely if not neatly."

"I had thought of that. I have no wish to die."

Philip gestured impatiently. "I had intended to go anyway. I am somewhat better of late. My sister knows best what to do for me and she does not disturb me with constant moanings and groanings. Do you have something special for me to use?"

"Two things or three. That business with Pembroke was a trap. You heard?"

A nod and a shrug. Philip had no energy to waste in regretting mistakes. "I am sorry. I slipped there."

"Hereford thinks that Pembroke will not accuse him directly, otherwise why the warning to change sides on the tourney? Perhaps. In any case Pembroke nearly killed Hereford with a sleeping draught. It is something if not much, for only Hereford's men know of it. Do what you can to keep the young fool free. I know Maud wants desperately to have him, but I think neither she nor Stephen will dare say a word against him after what happened at the tourney. If they do accuse him anyway … I do not know. I will find some other way to save him."

"How?" Philip asked bitterly. It had not been easy to sit idly watching Hereford and Chester bring about his father's destruction. Cain took his lip between his teeth and closed his eyes. Nervously blaming himself for asking unanswerable questions and distressing his friend, Philip leaned forward. "Cain! Lady Radnor, he faints."

Leah bent anxiously over her husband, almost hoping he had fainted so that she could send Philip away and insist that Cain rest, but his eyes opened immediately.

"I do not faint. It is nothing. Leah, go back to your needle. If I must I will stretch the weapon I have to cover him also, although I think it scarce enough to save Chester. In any case, before aught else is done, I must have Pembroke out of the queen's hands."

"Why? If you think I will endanger my position at court for that—" Philip stopped in deference to Leah's presence. "Perhaps Pembroke guesses that you are such a fool that your blood bond will bind you even when you knew his falseness, but—"

"Nay, Philip, I cannot use the evidence I have against the queen until Pembroke is safe away, because it concerns him also. Can you not see that while he is in her hands she can twist matters so that he alone is at fault? And he is so lily-livered he will support what she says out of fear."

"Very well, do not waste your strength. I will do what I can for him, curse him. What evidence do you have against the queen?"

"Hereford holds certain prisoners who, under his handling, will no doubt sing of how Maud, through Oxford, planned to have me slain. Those prisoners are what I fought for. Probably they are paid carrion in Pembroke's service, but from the openness with which they were used I believe they thought they would be safe because of royal protection. If Hereford and Chester be taken at the council, those limed birds must be sent to Painscastle. With them in my father's hands, I am safe from Maud. From Pembroke alone, without her backing, I can protect myself."

"You are not such a great fool after all, but would it not be well worth Maud's risk to try to regain those prisoners before Hereford can apply the thumbscrews?"

"They are doubtless well hidden. Hereford knows their value and Chester is not new at this game. Moreover, Maud will not dare institute an open search. The one thing she fears on earth is Stephen's displeasure. You know, Philip, that whatever may be said against the king, treachery of this sort—in a game of knights endeavor—would be abhorrent to him. She dare not confess by an attempt to regain those men that what they tell under torture of her being party to the plot is true."

"Yes. I think I will go and see if I can find a welcome to spend the night at Hereford's house. Those songs might be useful in successions other than those of Wales."

"So I thought." Cain moved his left hand restlessly across his abdomen, picking at the bedclothes. "I have also those letters of which we spoke. Do you desire—"

"That is enough, Cain. You can bear no more. I pray you, do not tell me that nothing ails you. I know you too well. Ay, and God have mercy upon me, I know the feeling too well also. Whatever remains can keep until tomorrow. Henry is not here. Until that time it is as well for you to hold the letters as another."

"But if Stephen tells Maud that I have them, perhaps …"

"I will not listen. I too am tired."

The candles had guttered out and the room was dim with dawn when Leah rose quickly from her
prie-dieu
at a sound, or rather a cessation of sound, from the bed. Cain had been sleeping for some time, moaning softly with every exhaled breath, and it was the absence of those low moans that drew Leah's attention. She stepped very quietly to the bedside, not wishing to wake him if he still slept, but his eyes were open.

"Can I get you something, my lord?"

"A drink."

She brought him water laced with wine and raised his head. He drank avidly and Leah, feeling the heat of his neck against her arm, trembled. The fever was starting.

"Have you slept at all this night?" he asked irritably.

"Yes, certainly. You must not talk, Cain."

"Talk to me, then." He rolled his head back and forth and his good hand pulled at the covers.

Leah was very much troubled. He should not be in such great pain now, not yet. The wounds had not yet inflamed. "Are you tired of lying on your back?" she soothed. "I can prop you on your side with pillows, love."

If he were on his side, what he wished to do might just be possible. "If you can." She shifted him and he waited patiently, trying not to gasp, until the pang of movement passed. "Why do you only call me 'love' when you are about to hurt me?" he asked, suddenly conscious of the endearments which she had been lavishing on him and which she had never used before.

"Do I? To put a little sugar in the bitter draught, I suppose. Nay, I would call you 'love' and 'dear' until you were sick of the words, but I know men do not like that."

"Do they not?" he asked. "And who told you that nonsense?"

"My mother told me, sweetheart. There, do you like it? I have no intent to hurt you now."

Cain did not reply. The tenderness of her love only made matters worse, for if he could not remove his own shoes and she saw what was under one of them and turned from him, it would make the pain of the rejection deeper. Leah got up to close the shutters because light was beginning to come into the room. Desperate, Radnor shifted his hips a little, edged his left elbow under him, set his teeth, and tried to lever himself up. This time he could not repress a faint groan, and, worst of all, began to cough. Leah rushed back to him, pulled the bedclothes tight over his chest, and held them firm until the paroxysm passed. She touched him; there was no doubt about it, he was even hotter than before.

"My lord, can you understand me?"

Cain opened his eyes in surprise, and Leah could see tears glitter on his lashes. "Why not?" he asked unsteadily.

"You are getting feverish. Just now you tried to get up. If you do that in your fever, you will hurt yourself. My strength is no match for yours, and it would do you great harm to struggle. I pray you, do not be angry with me, but I must bind you to the bed."

Nervously, Cain licked his lips, and Leah's heart was wrung by the expression of fear on his face. "That was not done in delirium, Leah. I wished to try—but it is hopeless." He paused, staring at her, the expression of terror growing and Leah hung over him murmuring endearments although she had no idea of what he was so afraid. He shifted his eyes from hers as if he was ashamed and muttered, "I must ask you, will I nill I, to take off my shoes."

"Yes, my love." It was a bitter triumph.

"Wait," he cried as she moved towards the foot of the bed. "Not now—I—oh, God have mercy on my soul. Whatever you see, I am a man, no more, no less."

Leah put out a hand to steady herself against the footpost of the bed. She sought for words of comfort and assurance, but there were none, only a deadly sickness. Only the sickness and the knowledge that if Lord Radnor were of Satan's brood, then the devil had succeeded and had her soul as well. Not even proof that her husband was a demon and not a man could wean her love from him now. She glanced briefly at the
prie-dieu
with its Christ hanging from the crucifix and then longer at Cain's sweating face, released the bedpost, and began to lift the covers.