Fire Song (38 page)

“I am not stubborn, and she was with that bitch Chandra de Vernon!”

“Are all the ladies at court bitches, Blanche? My poor love, how very trying for you.”

“I must admit that I did not like being in Joanna’s company,” she said grudgingly.

“Forced to take sides, my dear? And, it appears, you have chosen the wrong one, again.”

She wanted to tell him that she had baited Kassia because she was afraid for him. Afraid of what Graelam would do if he discovered her perfidy.
I have been fine and fairly won,
she thought.
I love him, yet I am afraid to tell him so. Afraid that he really thinks me a spiteful witch.

Guy rose and walked to her, clasping her shoulders in his hands and shaking her a little. “Listen to me, wife. It is time for you to forget Graelam, Kassia, and Wolffeton. To forget your disappointment. It is time, you know, for you to accept me as your husband.” He paused a moment, examining his thoughts to make them into words. “I do not love Kassia. I felt protective of her, for a more innocent maid I have yet to see. But I wanted you, Blanche, despite what you did.” He shrugged, and added honestly, “I gained you, and saved Kassia from further of your . . . machinations.”

Her eyes flew to his face. “I . . . I did nothing!”
Can I never cease lying?

He lightly caressed his fingertips over her lips. “I am not blind, love. There is no reason for you to pretend to me. I will admit that it would please me mightily if you would willingly go to Graelam and tell him the truth.” His eyes darkened, narrowing in thought. “Of course, Graelam, being as blind as he appears to be when it comes to women, would likely assume that I put you up to it. And seeing you soft and lovely from my attentions, I could not blame him. Perhaps ‘tis best to leave matters as they are, at least for the time being. I have a feeling that they will work out things between them
without any more of your interference, or mine. But attend me, Blanche. I will not allow you to direct any more mischief toward Kassia. Do you understand me?”

“I cannot help but understand you! You are a brute and a braggart, but I won’t believe you!”

He did not release her, but sighed deeply. “Perhaps in five or ten years you will come to believe me. Together, Blanche, you and I will build Chitterly into a great holding.” He chuckled, and leaned down to kiss her lips lightly. “Our children will never believe their mother a spineless wench.”

“You mock me, Guy,” she muttered, “and you are slippery as the wettest fish. I do not like you.”

“Nay, but you love me. I will accept that for a while. I trust that you will not go against my wishes.”

“You would likely beat me if I did.”

He touched his hand to her slightly rounded belly. “No, but I would find other ways to punish you.”

She buried her face against his shoulder. “I do not mean to say bad things, Guy,” she whispered. “I was just so . . . afraid.”

He kissed her temple. “But not now. Not ever again. And, love, I enjoy your fishwife’s tongue.” He felt her stiffen in protest, and quickly said, “Now I will take you to bed and make you forget everything but your passion and your love for me.”

The afternoon was clear and sunny, the air crisp. Lords and ladies were gathered in the huge tower courtyard to see the competition between King Edward and Lady Chandra de Vernon. Graelam left Kassia with the queen and joined Jerval de Vernon and his friend Sir Mark. There was much good-natured jesting and prodding until Jerval tore off part of his tunic sleeve.
“An adequate favor for my lady?” he asked, and the men dissolved into more laughter.

“My lord is quite cocky,” Queen Eleanor said with a smile, “but I think he will soon become quite serious about it all. You watched Chandra practicing yesterday, Kassia?”

“She is unbelievable,” Kassia said. “I never dreamed that a woman could be so . . .” She sought vainly for a word.

“Complete?” Eleanor supplied.

“Perhaps. And she is so beautiful.”

“Actually, Kassia, her completeness came only when she fell in love with her husband. She was not always as happy as she is now.”

But her husband always loved her, Kassia wanted to say. Instead, she spoke of the match. “She is concerned that the third round will do her in. The distance requires a great deal of strength, and she says that only the king can shoot so far with accuracy.”

“Aye, I know,” Eleanor said. “I believe my lord insisted upon it. He does not like to lose.”

Kassia laughed. “At least he is honest about it!” She looked toward Chandra, who was laughing as her husband wrapped a piece of material about her arm as his favor. I would be like her, Kassia thought. If I could but learn a little of what she does so effortlessly, perhaps Graelam would admire me. She gasped at the thought of herself wielding a lance, riding a mighty war-horse. Nonetheless, the thought stayed with her.

Eleanor turned to speak to the Countess of Pembroke. Kassia looked about her and smiled at a slight, light-haired girl whose belly was rounded with child. “You must be tired,” she said. “Come and sit beside me.”

“Thank you. I do not have the energy that I used to have.”

Kassia felt a brief twinge of envy, then looked toward Chandra. “Does she not look utterly beautiful?”

“Aye. You should see her in her armor, though. ’Tis a sight that taxes the mind. I grew up with Chandra, you see.”

Kassia’s thoughts whirled and she said abruptly, “Were you at Croyland when Graelam de Moreton came to take her?”

The girl stiffened, but answered quietly enough, “Aye, I was there.”

“Did Lady Chandra truly hurl a dagger at Graelam?”

The girl nodded. She turned at the sound of a bright child’s laughter. “Ah, my daughter, Glenda.” She took the child from a nurse and lifted her in her arms. “Glenda, I would like you to meet a lovely lady.” She looked inquiringly at Kassia.

“Kassia is my name. She is a lovely child. You are very lucky.” Kassia gazed at the little girl’s thick dark hair, then into her large gray eyes. Suddenly Glenda leaned toward Kassia, her small hand clutching at the ermine of her cloak. The child laughed as she stroked the fur, and Kassia froze. The expression was Graelam’s.

“Are you all right, Kassia? You look very pale.”

Kassia gulped. “I do not believe I know your name,” she managed at last.

“Mary. My husband, Sir Mark, is yon, standing with Sir Jerval and . . . Graelam de Moreton.”

The pause in her voice boomed in Kassia’s mind. Was Mary a former lover of Graelam’s? It seemed impossible. Mary appeared so sweet, her face so gentle and innocent.

Mary’s voice broke into her confused thoughts. “I
hear that Lord Graelam has wed. She is, I am told, an heiress from Brittany.”

“Aye, she is from Brittany.”

“I cannot but feel sorry for her,” Mary said in a low voice. “I cannot imagine that Lord Graelam is an easy man.”

“No, he is not,” Kassia said. “Your daughter, does she resemble her father?”

“I do not believe so,” Mary said after a brief pause. “Why do you ask?”

Kassia closed her eyes a moment as she whispered, “My name is Kassia de Moreton.”

“I . . . I see,” Mary said in a voice so low Kassia barely heard her. “Do you see such a resemblance, then? I did not want to bring her to London, but my husband said no one would notice. He assured me that Glenda looks not one whit like Graelam.”

“It is not her features, but the expression when she laughed. Forgive me for making you uncomfortable. I will say nothing, I promise you.”

Mary forced a smile. “Thank you. Look, Chandra is preparing to shoot!”

To Kassia’s amazement, Chandra won the first round. The straw-filled circular targets stood at a distance of thirty feet. For the second round, the distance was doubled. The king won, by dint of a very lucky shot that split one of Chandra’s arrows. Kassia heard Chandra’s bright laughter as the targets were moved to an even greater distance.

“Sire,” she cried, “you have much improved! You are at last providing me with decent competition!”

“Ho, my lady!” the king said, drawing himself up to his full giant’s height. “We will see now who is the better.”

“I need my husband to provide some brawn,” Chandra said, shading her eyes as she looked at the distant targets.

Edward’s smile lasted only until he stepped forward. His eyes narrowed in concentration and his arm was steady. His arrow arched through the air and landed near the edge of the black center of the target.

“ ’Tis a pity the target is so distant,” Sir Jerval said to Graelam as he watched his wife prepare to shoot. “She has the eye of an eagle but not the strength for this distance.”

Chandra released her arrow and it soared gracefully toward the target, landing close to Edward’s.

“Well done!” Jerval shouted.

More haggling bets were laid, and Edward had to shout for silence before he took his next turn. There was a loud thud as his arrow embedded itself once again just inside the black center.

Chandra’s next arrow was carried by a sudden shift of the slight breeze to the outside edge of the target.

“I can hear her cursing from here,” Jerval said.

The same shifting breeze caught Edward’s arrow, and it missed the target altogether.

“By all the saints,” Graelam said. “I did not believe it possible!”

There was utter and complete silence as Chandra released her final arrow. It landed with a light thud near her first arrow, at the edge of the black center. Loud applause and shouting followed.

Edward grinned at her and blew her a kiss. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, and released his final arrow. It smacked in the middle of the bull’s-eye, its feathered tip vibrating for some moments at the power of the shot.

“I do not suppose, sire,” Chandra said, “that you will believe I allowed you to beat me?”

Edward tossed his bow to one of his men, clasped her about her slender waist, and twirled her high above his head. “My lady,” he said, lowering her gently to the ground, “I would believe anything you chose to tell me!”

“You are too much the sporting winner, sire. Nay, the victory is yours.”

“Jerval, you lucky hound, come and rescue your wife before I abduct her!”

Kassia saw the glint of admiration in Graelam’s eyes as he watched Lady Chandra. A knot of resolve formed in her. He will look at me like that, she swore to herself. She turned about, but Mary was gone, her small daughter with her.

“I see that your bitch protectress is well-occupied,” Lady Joanna said from behind Kassia.

Kassia’s hand itched to slap her face, but her voice sounded quite mild. “Must you show your jealousy, Joanna? It makes your face appear quite plain, you know.”

She felt a moment of satisfaction when Joanna quickly raised her hand to her face, as if to assure herself that every feature was still in place.

“Kassia!”

Graelam’s dark eyes glittered with anger at Joanna, but his smile was gentle as he gazed down at his wife. “Come, Edward wishes to celebrate his victory.”

She walked quietly beside him, her thoughts on the little girl, Glenda.

“Do not let her distress you,” Graelam said.

“She is like a bothersome insect,” Kassia said coolly. “I do not heed her.”

“Then why is your face flushed?”

Kassia stopped, turned slowly, and studied her husband’s face. “I met your daughter.”

If she expected to see guilt ravage his features, she was doomed to disappointment. Graelam merely looked at her blankly, a black brow raised in silent question.

“Did you meet Sir Mark, a friend of Sir Jerval’s?”

“Aye, but what has that to do with this daughter of mine?”

“His wife, Lady Mary, grew up with Lady Chandra. She was at Croyland when you took the castle.”

Slowly memory righted itself. “It was long ago,” Graelam said slowly. “A very long time ago.”

“Was she your mistress?”

“Nay. I took her by force to gain Chandra’s compliance.”

Kassia gaped at him, shocked. “You forced a lady?”

He flushed, and it angered him. A man could do whatever he wished, without the condemnation of his damned wife! A muscle jumped in his jaw. “That is enough,” he said coldly. “It was a long time ago, as I told you, and I do not wish to hear you rant at me anymore.” He added, seeing the horror still in her eyes, “I am sorry for it. I was very angry at the time, and frustrated.”

“As angry and frustrated as you were with me?” Kassia asked quietly.

Again his face darkened, but he did not respond. After a long moment he said stiffly, “I seem to do little that pleases you. Will this news send you plotting again to escape me?”

She shook her head.

He gave a growl of laughter. “At least you no longer protest your innocence. Do not tell me that Chandra is teaching you the value of keeping your spiteful tongue
behind your teeth? Ah, there are Sir Guy and his lovely bride.”

“You are looking well, Kassia,” Guy said, briefly touching her small hands.

“And you, Guy. Does all go well with you?”

“Aye, and soon I will be a father.”

Kassia was surprised at the twisting jealousy she felt at his words. She turned to Blanche and said quietly, “Congratulations, Blanche. You are very . . . lucky.”

Guy saw the uncertainty in his wife’s eyes, and quickly pulled her against him, hugging her close. He kissed her cheek, whispering as he did so, “Easy, my love. Let Graelam and Kassia see your winsome side.”

“Thank you,” Blanche said. Then, to her own surprise, she smiled widely, her eyes going inadvertently to her husband’s face.

“Guy,” Graelam called, “bring your conceited ass here. I wish you to meet Sir Jerval.”

Blanche gazed after her husband, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. “You do not look well, Kassia,” she said. “Joanna remarked it to me yesterday.”

“Joanna remarked many things. Indeed, she dominated, did she not, with her vicious tongue?”

“Aye,” Blanche said honestly, “she did.”

“Are you happy now, Blanche?”

Blanche narrowed her eyes on Kassia’s face, but could see no hidden meaning there. “A husband is a husband,” she said, shrugging, her words sounding utterly false even to her own ears.