Glancing at the tightly intertwined fingers, Lord Radnor had to smile. He had a swift memory of himself concentrating on his tutor's lessons with just such hands. "Wait, wait, you leap ahead. It is not so simple in truth because the Empress Matilda now has a son who is very nearly a man. It is rumored that he is to return again to press his claim. He was here with his mother once before, but he was only a child of ten then."
"I see that this does not please you. Is he also unworthy to be king? Do you think that King Stephen can be brought to better ways?"
"The priests tell us that there are miracles," Cain replied dryly. "Perhaps God will think that England has suffered enough and perform one. Short of that, I do not believe that the king will—or I should say can, because Stephen is a well intentioned man—change his ways. You are right though in saying that Henry's coming does not please me—and very clever, too, to have read that in my face—but it is not because he would not make a better king. Almost anyone would, although Henry is too young, about sixteen, but I am sworn to be Stephen's man, no matter how little my heart lies there and I must hold to my oath. Of more immediate importance though is that Wales is like a pot just on the boil. One little thing more will make it run over."
Leah heard little but the last statement because she had been thinking that she could read far more in any man's face than whether or not he liked or disliked a king. When the price for every misreading of a flicker of expression that shows a mood is a blow and a bruise, the eye grows quick and the mind grows keen.
"But why should England's troubles affect Wales?"
"God in His omniscience, He knows why He made the Welsh as He did. I give them credit for their courage, but they are lunatic. They know not when they are beaten. They will not lie down and die when they are wounded unto death. They will not acknowledge us their masters although we have proven our claim again and again by force of arms. Each time the crown changes hands in England, the Welsh think that we Normans will be so concerned that we will pay no mind to what goes on in our own lands. Therefore the Welsh rise in rebellion, seeking to be free of the yoke we have placed upon them. Each time an overlord, like your father's brother, is slain or is deposed by the king, they rise to fight, flooding down from the hills and out of the forests."
Radnor had not turned his face from Leah, but his eyes stared unseeingly past her. He had forgotten she was there and was merely speaking aloud of something that puzzled and hurt him. "God knows that I would more gladly give my protection to them than slay them; their blood runs in my veins, and I have offered peace again and again. I would even, perhaps, give them what they say they desire—freedom. Little enough can be wrung from unwilling people in labor or gold, and the cost of fighting them to make them pay is more than my gain. But they will not live in peace among themselves nor let me live in peace. They kill my serfs; they burn my land. I cannot bear to see the earth a black ruin. I cannot bear it when the serfs bring their starving children to me and cry, ‘Master, help us.’ Can I bring crops from scorched soil? It must be stopped before it begins. At all costs there must be no war in England and no change of overlordships in Wales!"
"There will be no change in overlordships," Leah soothed, frightened by Cain's intensity. "Why should there be?"
Cain started and flushed slightly as he realized he had exposed rather more of his personal feelings than he had intended. "I hope not," he said more calmly. "Our marriage will assure peace between Pembroke and Gaunt. If only Fitz Richard can be extricated from Stephen's grasp and Chester will keep the promises he has made to me, all will be well."
"Do you mean my cousin Fitz Richard? My lord, why does the king hold my cousin Fitz Richard?"
"You have a special affection for him?" Radnor asked sharply.
The jealous note was lost upon Leah in her concern for a childhood playmate. "Oh, yes. When I was a little girl, he told me stories and taught me chess and other games. Please—is he in danger?"
"Not in any personal danger, I believe." Cain was ashamed of himself. It was perfectly reasonable that a girl should be fond of her cousin. "You see, the Earl of Chester has rebelled often against the king. I love Chester well; he is my godfather and has been very kind to me, but he is a man of strong passions and when he believes the king to be wrong he tries to mend matters by war. War cannot mend matters now, so my father and I and your father made peace between Stephen and Chester."
"But my cousin Fitz Richard, what has he to do with this?"
"Chester is Fitz Richard's uncle on the mother's side, as your father is Fitz Richard's uncle on the father's. Also, Chester loves Fitz Richard well. Therefore Fitz Richard thought that if he offered himself and his lands as hostage for his uncle's good behavior, Chester would be more likely to keep the peace. This is all very well for England and for Chester, but it leaves your cousin Fitz Richard's lands without an overlord. This in itself is bad, because, as I told you, the Welsh are always restless."
"Then why does not the king send Fitz Richard home to govern his people?"
Cain sighed. "I have said I love Chester, and it is true, but Chester is not, alas, always to be trusted. The king keeps Fitz Richard because" —he knew he should not be saying these things to this girl, but he was carried along on a wave of bitterness— "because the moment Chester is bound by nothing but his word, he will break his word. Stephen hopes that Chester will be quiet out of fear for Fitz Richard. Oh, God, I should have stopped it before it went so far, but I was so tired of this war and Stephen would have only Fitz Richard as hostage—and the fool of a boy was willing. Every man makes mistakes. If the peace had not been made, the Welsh would have rebelled. To quiet them we all agreed Fitz Richard should go. Now they threaten to rise for lack of an overlord and we must get Fitz Richard back … and I am so weary."
"But if you cannot get Fitz Richard away safe, and the Welsh do rise … Wales is large and well-peopled. How can you withstand them?"
What a fool I am, Cain thought. I have frightened the poor child. He ran a hand through his hair, and then smiled. "Some of the Welsh are satisfied to till the soil in peace and are content with their Norman masters. We take a tax from them, of course, but we protect them also so that they are not exposed to the wild tribes of the hills. Even so we would be in an ill case except that the Welsh are different somehow. Usually when there is a great cause for a people, that people unite to fight for it. Men will set aside petty quarrels to go on crusade, for example—and fools they are to do it too. It is most fortunate for us that the Welsh can never be brought to do this. They love to fight, but it is all alike to them whether they kill Normans or English or other Welsh. They are ever forsworn—I am not sure they believe in the True God, so they swear easily by Him without fear—so they do not trust one another, and this makes our task far easier. By my faith, they are brave fighters. It is just as well they do not readily agree. I would not wish to meet the Welsh nation united on the field."
"You have been in many battles, have you not, my lord?"
"Many and many." Lord Radnor put up a hand to touch his scarred face and smiled more grimly. "Do you think I had cut myself while shaving?"
Leah's eyes glistened. "It must be very exciting to see a battle. I have rea—" Her voice hesitated and she dropped her eyes. To Leah's father it was a sin for a woman to be able to read. Her mother had taught her, but she knew she must keep her knowledge secret. "I mean I have heard many tales, and—"
Cain threw back his head to laugh, exposing white teeth and a powerful, corded neck. "Very exciting, provided you are on the winning side. You are bloodthirsty for a maid, are you not?" he asked, teasing her.
Leah missed that. She was trained to take remarks literally. "I do not think so. I do not like to see the serfs hanged or maimed. Only it is so very quiet here, I think I should like to see brave men fight. The serfs scream and grovel so, I can hardly bear it."
Cain's laughter faded. "Not all men are brave in battle. It is sometimes hard to die." He shook his head sharply as if to rid it of a thought or picture and then smiled again. "In heaven's name, what a subject for a maiden. You will have excitement enough of a better sort for women, and soon enough too. Sometime this summer I must ride to court. Stephen has once more summoned the barons together. My father prudently remains behind so that one of us at least will have freedom of action no matter what befalls. Will you like to ride to court?"
"I am to go?"
"As you desire."
"Do you mean that I may really choose whether to go or to stay?"
There was a silence, and then Lord Radnor said rather dryly, "You would rather stay at home than ride to London with me?"
"Oh no," Leah gasped, "no, but it was lovely to think that I could choose to stay behind if I wished. No one has ever offered me a choice before," she added naively.
Edwina now reappeared in the hall and went towards Pembroke and His Grace of Gaunt. As she passed Leah and Lord Radnor, she directed at her daughter a definitely monitory glance. Leah cast wildly around in her mind for what she had done or left undone, and turned anxiously to the man beside her.
"Please forgive me. You must be tired for you have ridden far and over a hard road. I see you are all muddied, and here I have kept you talking. I pray you come to the east tower chamber and I will disarm you and prepare your bath."
"Gladly. It will be well come. We have ridden three days from the west and I am galled by the steel against my body."
Leah was instantly all concern. She led the way to the stairs and then, becoming conscious of Lord Radnor's halting step, offered her arm. "My lord, you are hurt. There was fighting in the west then?"
"Some fighting, but I am not hurt."
Cain stopped and perforce Leah did too, turning to look questioningly at him. What she saw in his eyes turned her cold. She had read in the book of saints' tales of agonies of the spirit, but until that moment she had never believed that they could be more violent than those of the body which she had witnessed. Without consciousness of what she was doing, only feeling a rush of desire to offer comfort, she put out her hands and took Cain's.
"I am a cripple," he continued so harshly that, but for her hold on his hands, she would have physically recoiled.
"Alas, I am sorry."
"If I can bear it, you needs must. You will hear tales enough about me, and I tell you that I have a crippled foot. I am a crippled man, nothing more."
Leah's lashes hid her eyes. A fierce surge of protectiveness almost maternal, a desire to salve the apparent raw hurt, made her stammer a little. "No, no." She pressed the hand she still held tightly, and Cain became aware of her grip. "It is of no consequence to me; if I am sorry it is only because you looked so—" She could not go on, for what she had seen was indescribable. "Come, I pray you, you are tired, and if you will we may talk later. It is ill done of me to delay when you have told me of your weariness."
For Lord Radnor there was nothing more to say. Certainly he would not discuss with this raw girl the nameless superstitious fears that he denied he felt. She would run screaming from him in horror when she heard the tales of the demon son of Gaunt. And how was he to keep her from hearing? Mutely he permitted her to draw him out of the hall and up the stairs.
In one of the towers of the keep, the area had been cleared of war gear and made fit for habitation. There were no true windows here, only arrow slits to let in light, and the circular room was dim, but the rushes underfoot were clean and intermingled with herbs so that the room was freshly scented. A fire burned brightly on the hearth, illuminating the grotesque carvings in the dark wood of a low-backed chair set before it. Into this chair Leah pressed her betrothed, and he sank into the cushioned seat with a sense of relief, which was sharply broken when the girl released his hand and moved away.
"Stay, my lord, I must go to my mother and—"
With one bound he was upon her, grasping her forearm in his right hand. "Do you go to your mother? Will you ask her to plead for your freedom? Do not be foolish. Crippled or whole, man or demon—oh, yes, I know what they say of me—I am a great matrimonial prize. Your lands march with mine. It is in every way suitable."
Shocked by his attack, Leah instinctively tried to pull away, and Cain tightened his grip until she went down on her knees. "No, no. Oh, my lord, please. I am in every way willing. Indeed, indeed, I was only going to ask my mother for herbs for your bath. Have mercy," she cried, her tears spilling over, "do not hurt me so."
"Oh, God." Radnor released her arm as if it had burnt him. "I am sorry. I did not realize I was hurting you." He walked away to the fire while Leah knelt beside the chair, rubbing her arm and trying not to sob. Cain muttered something under his breath and then, more clearly, "If you wish to be free, tell me, and I—I will contrive so that you will bear no blame. I have used you shamefully, poor child."
"I swear I am content. I pray you to say nothing to my father. He will kill me. Dear lord, what have I done? What have I said? Do not be angry." He walked back towards her and she cringed. "I will go nowhere. Do not beat me, my lord."
"Beat you? For what? For my own shame and bad temper?" Cain touched the bright hair gently. "You will not think it after this, but I wish to use you kindly. I do not desire that you should fear me out of reason." He closed his eyes and laughed harshly. "I have begun well, have I not? Bruising your arm and frightening you out of your wits." Bending, he lifted her to her feet. "You must not let me frighten you, Leah. Your fear makes me cruel." The remark was ridiculous and Cain laughed. "There, I know you are young—I have led too hard a life—but I will try to remember. Are you truly content? Can you forget that I have been harsh to you?"
With a surge of thankfulness that the storm seemed to be over so quickly and with so little damage done, Leah summoned up a smile, tremblingly. "Oh yes, I am content, and you are not cruel. My father often uses me much more hardly and never has said he was sorry for it."