Fire Song (29 page)

Kassia cocked her head to one side, wondering wearily if the duke had another heiress for Graelam.

The Duke of Cornwall rose and stood quietly for a moment, then burst out heartily, “Edward the First, King of England, returns shortly! His coronation and his queen’s will take place in Westminster Abbey in October! My lord Graelam, your presence is requested at the ceremony.”

There was wild cheering, and Kassia discreetly motioned for the servants to bring in more ale and wine. Her head whirled with excitement for Graelam. She turned excitedly to her husband. “Graelam, you will go, will not you? I must sew you new tunics. You have but one fine one. And a new robe, of purple velvet, I think. For the king, you must look very grand!”

Graelam felt a smile tugging at his mouth at her enthusiasm.

“And what of you, Kassia? Do you not have need of new gowns and the like?”

She raised wide, questioning eyes to his face. “Do you mean that you wish me to accompany you?”

He felt a brief wrenching pain at the pitiful stirring of hope he saw in her eyes. “Of course you will come with me,” he said curtly. “Who else would see to my comfort?”

Any of the female servants,
she wanted to yell at him, but her excitement at traveling to London quickly overcame her ire at his words. “I will really meet King Edward and Queen Eleanor?”

“Aye, you will meet them. And you do have need of
some new gowns, Kassia. Unfortunately, the duke, as usual, gives us little time to prepare.”

“I will do it,” Kassia said. “Whatever needs to be done will be done.”

Graelam fiddled with his wine goblet for a moment, frowning at himself even as he spoke. “There is a bolt of gold-threaded silk in my trunk. You will sew yourself a gown from it.”

Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she blinked at him.

“ ‘Tis a pity you gave the necklace away, for you could have worn it with the silk.”

He saw the light go out of her eyes as if he had struck her. St. Peter’s bones, he thought furiously, why should he feel guilty? She was the one who had played him false. She was the one who persisted in her lies.

“Nan!” he called. “More wine!”

Kassia sat very quietly. In her excitement, she had forgotten momentarily how much he disliked and distrusted her. But of course he would not forget. He would never forget.

She lay curved into a small ball some hours later, the raucous laughter from the hall below softening in her dream. A man’s voice spoke, saying very softly, “ ’Tis time to see if my little wench can breed.” She sighed and turned onto her back. Suddenly she could hear the man’s breathing. She blinked and abruptly came awake.

“Hold still,” Graelam said, his hands on the belt of her bedrobe.

He was drunk, she thought frantically. “Please, Graelam,” she whispered, pressing her hands against his bare chest.

“Hold still,” he repeated. He jerked up her bedrobe, giving up on the knot at her waist, and fell on top of her. He grasped her head between his hands and kissed
her, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. Kassia felt his swollen manhood against her thighs. She knew she couldn’t fight him, and lay perfectly still.

He raised his head until he could focus on her face in the dim light. Her eyes were tightly closed. “Damn you,” he said softly. He felt her quiver beneath him, and smiled bitterly. “I will make you respond,” he muttered. He mustered his waning control and eased himself off her.

Her eyes flew open, and she drew a shattered breath at his harsh face above her, his mouth set in a grim line.

“You want me to force you,” he said. “Then you can hate me all the more.”

“I don’t hate you.”

He lightly stroked his hand over her throat. “Take off the bedrobe, Kassia.”

He controls me, she thought. He will do just as he pleases with me, despite my wishes. A flicker of rebellion rose within her. “You tell me I am a child, that I do not have a woman’s feelings. Why do you bother? Why do you not return to your mistress? Does it please you to hurt me? If so, then just get it over with!”

Graelam felt the haze of drunkenness gripping his mind, but he was sober enough to make sense of her tumbled words. He realized vaguely that he was likely too drunk to make her respond to him, and that now her mind was locked against him. He rolled off her and rose. “Very well,” he said, reaching for his bedrobe. Oddly enough, he felt no anger at her for spurning him. “If I return during the night, you need have no fear of me.” He turned on his heel and strode from the bedchamber.

Kassia turned away from the cooking shed, mulling over again the words she had overheard Sir Walter say to Guy just before Guy and Blanche had left Wolffeton. “It is a pity that I do not have a father to die and pass me his estates.” Guy, who was distracted, had said only, “Aye, ’tis unfortunate.”

“But there are other ways,” Sir Walter had continued after a moment. “Soon, I believe, I will not longer be landless. I will gain what should have always belonged to me.”

Kassia shivered now, remembering how coldly and emotionlessly he had spoken, though, objectively, they could simply reflect Sir Walter’s ambition. She wished she could tell Graelam of her feelings, but she guessed he would simply look at her like she was a stupid woman and dismiss her out of hand. She paused a moment, gazing at Drake, the armorer, at his work. She missed Guy. Her brow puckered as she recalled his words at his leave-taking. “Now, my lady,” he had said,
lightly touching her cheek, “the way is clear for you to live at Wolffeton happily and safely.” Her eyes flew to his face, but he had shaken his head at her, smiling. “Blanche is a handful, never doubt it, Kassia, but she will please me. You may be certain of that!”

Kassia was not so certain that would be the case. Although there seemed to be a new softness about Blanche, she nonetheless stared through Kassia, ignoring her completely when they took their leave of Wolffeton.

Kassia paused a moment, hearing her husband’s forceful voice from the practice field. He had not returned to their bed that night nearly a week before, and since then he had slept with her every night without attempting to touch her. She imagined that after taking his man’s pleasure with Nan, he wanted the comfort of his own bed. She wanted to shrug, but could not manage to do it.

She made her way to Blount’s accounting room and began another coward’s letter to her father. Not wanting to worry him, she had never mentioned her unhappiness or her husband’s obvious distrust of her. She paused a moment over the piece of parchment, thinking about his last letter to her. “Geoffrey is quiet,” he had written. “Too quiet. Like a snake that is slithering about until he can find a protected place from which to strike.” The rest of his letter had merely recounted the day-to-day events at Belleterre. Kassia told him of the upcoming coronation, and left it at that.

“Ye believe ye’re so above us all, don’t ye, my fine lady?”

She turned at Nan’s sneering voice, and frowned. The girl stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her hair tossed back, long and thick down her back.
Normally she did not allow Nan’s insolence to bother her, for after all, the wench did bed with Graelam. But this attack was both unexpected and beyond the line.

“What do you want, Nan?” she asked crisply, rising.

“That old crone Etta told me ye wanted me to scrub down the trestle tables.”

“Yes, that is what I wish you to do.”

“We’ll see about that!” Nan muttered, and flounced away.

Kassia frowned. She frowned again several hours later when she finished sewing on her silk gown and went into the great hall. The trestle tables hadn’t been cleaned. Furthermore, Nan was sitting in Kassia’s chair, waving her hands, giving outlandish orders in a loud, shrewish voice in an effort to mimic her. Kassia felt a surge of rage, and strode into the hall.

The other servants saw her before Nan, and quickly lowered their heads, bending more ardently to their tasks.

“Get out of my chair,” Kassia said in a cold voice. “Now.”

Nan jumped, and slithered out of the chair, responding to the voice of authority. But she quickly straightened and faced Kassia.

“You will do your assigned tasks, Nan, else you will go into the laundry shed or the fields.”

“Nay, my lady,” Nan said, eyeing her with open contempt. “Ye haven’t the power to do that. My lord would never allow it.” She ran a hand through her gleaming long hair. “Aye, ye haven’t the power. ’Tis hard work, cleaning the trestle tables. My lord wouldn’t want me to use my energy and become too tired for him.”

Kassia heard a soft snicker behind her. She closed
her eyes for a brief instant. She was the mistress of Wolffeton. This little slut could not be allowed to speak to her thus, else she would lose all control. She drew herself up to her full height.

“You will still your insolent mouth, Nan, and do the work I ordered you to do. Now.”

“Nay, my lady. ’Tis too hard a task. My lord won’t want me to harm his child.” She clasped her arms about her belly, her eyes challenging Kassia.

Child! Graelam’s child! Kassia felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her eyes traveled over Nan, and even she could now see the slight bulge at her waist. If she had had a knife, she would have stabbed it into Nan and then into Graelam.

Graelam stood in the shadows of the great oak door. Nan’s startling words surprised him, but it was not she who held his attention. Kassia looked both ill and furious. He knew that he could not allow Nan to gainsay her mistress, knew it as well as he suspected Kassia did. He strode forward, drawing all eyes.

Kassia saw him and wondered dully how much he had overheard. She stood numbly, waiting for him to complete her humiliation.

“My lord!” Nan cried, and started toward him.

Graelam raised a hand. “What is happening here, my lady?” he asked Kassia.

He knows exactly what has happened, she thought, and he is baiting me. He will make me say what I believe in front of the servants, then say exactly the opposite. She forced herself to meet his dark gaze. She said in a cool, clear voice, “I have given Nan a task, my lord. She does not wish to do it because she carries a child.”
Your child.

“I see,” he said. He turned to Nan. “What is this task that would be so wearing on you?”

“Scrubbing the trestle tables, my lord. The duke’s men were pigs, and left them filthy.”

Graelam gazed back toward his wife. He saw her hands fisted against her sides. He smiled slightly. “Begin the task, Nan, as your mistress instructed. My lady, you will please accompany me now.”

Begin
the task. Kassia looked at him warily. Nan cocked her head to one side, but realized enough to keep her mouth shut. Perhaps he simply didn’t wish to embarrass his skinny wife in front of all the servants. She probably should have told him of the child before she attacked Kassia.

“Very well, my lord,” she said sweetly. “I shall begin the work.”

“Come, Kassia,” Graelam said, and walked from the hall.

Kassia knew she had no choice. She trailed after him, her shoulders square and her chin raised.

He waited until she had entered their bedchamber, then quietly closed the door. He said nothing for a long moment, merely watched her. That little chin of hers, he noticed, was raised again for battle.

“It is your child, of course,” Kassia said, hearing the tremor of anger in her voice.

“I suspect so,” he said calmly.

“I suppose you expect me to thank you for not humiliating me in front of the servants.”

“You could, but I doubt that you will.”

His utter disinterest riled her beyond reason. “I am the mistress of Wolffeton!” she shouted at him.

“Are you?” he asked calmly. “In some ways I suppose that you are. In others, my lady, you are sorely lacking.”

“Just as are you, my lord!”

To her surprise, he nodded. “It is true. Now, you will heed me well, my lady. I put a stop to Nan’s insolence for the moment. I will handle the wench to your satisfaction if you will agree to become the mistress of Wolffeton in all ways.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I see I have your full attention. Here is the bargain I propose, my lady. You will come to me willingly in my bed. You will no longer act the outraged maiden or the passive victim. If you refuse, I imagine your life could be particularly unpleasant.”

He expected her to draw back in disgust, but she didn’t move. Her eyes remained wide and questioning on his face. “What do you mean that you will handle Nan to my satisfaction?”

“Ah, the terms of the agreement. You are wise to have everything clear before agreeing or disagreeing. I will marry the wench off and remove her from Wolffeton. You will never have to deal with her insolence again. That is, if you agree.”

Kassia could easily imagine what would happen if Nan gained the upper hand. She raised her chin even higher. “I do not think that it is your right to interfere at all in how I manage the servants. And that includes your precious mistress.”

“Then I take it that you do not agree to my . . . bargain?”

He thought he heard her curse, and it made him want to smile.

“You have not the right! Will you take everything from me?”

“On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “I wish to give
you more. A woman’s pleasure, for example. Such pleasure truly does exist, I promise you.”

“Give it to your slut, damn you!”

He regarded her calmly and said, “How I envy Guy. I heard Blanche’s cries of pleasure on their wedding night. Would you grant to Guy what you refuse to grant to me?”

“I would grant none of you anything!”

“Enough, Kassia. What is your answer?”

“If I refuse, will you release Nan from all her duties and make her the mistress of Wolffeton?”

Of course he would not, but he saw that Kassia did not realize that. He merely shrugged, looking bored and impatient.

She looked away from him, her hands clenching and unclenching in front of her. “I don’t know what to do!” she cried.

“All I desire is your . . . cooperation. I will teach you the rest. Come, wife, my men await me. What is your answer?”

“I . . . I agree,” she said in a whisper.