Chapter 15
The Earl of Pembroke bowed low over Maud's hand in a quiet, well-guarded little house very near the White Tower. "I am most comfortable here, madam, thank you, and I am grateful for the guard you set about me, but I do not completely understand it."
"You do not understand?" Maud sounded surprised. "You told me that you had met Hereford, warned him that Chester would be betrayed, and you are surprised that I guard you. Can you not guess that Hereford will run straight to Radnor, and that Radnor will convince him that you, and not Philip, are to speak out against the traitor? I can easily arrange that Philip will back your accusation of Chester so that you need not fear to bear the blame alone, but for now if Hereford and Chester believe you guilty, doubtless they will try to find you and kill you."
Pembroke turned pale and Maud dropped her eyes to hide the laughter she was afraid might show in them. "I am sure they will never suspect," Pembroke replied. "It is true that I dosed Hereford's drink, but it was only a drop and should do no more than give him a sound night's sleep." A worried frown crossed Pembroke's face. "It did act too quickly though, I hope—" The frown cleared. "At worst it will kill him, and since no man can say that Hereford ate or drank aught with me—I went for the wine and dosed it myself—no harm can come of that."
As annoyed as she was with Pembroke, for Hereford's fall, not his death, was an integral part of her plans, Maud's voice was smooth and unconcerned. "In any case, you will be safe here. Nonetheless it is most unfortunate that Radnor will not go to you as planned. I begin to believe that he is of the devil's brood. Nothing seems to harm him. He came clean away at Oxford, and now this escape … You know that without his lands it will be impossible for the king to go through Wales in peace and knock on Gloucester's back door. If my husband cannot do that, there is little profit for us in giving Fitz Richard's lands to you."
"You need not concern yourself, madam. My plan for the tourney cannot fail. He would naturally be on his guard in Oxford's keep. We both knew that and I tried because there was nothing to lose. It was ill luck that Hereford heard of my coming and met me first. I had a message so prepared that Radnor would not have failed to come to me. I could not send it, of course, because he might well have known that Hereford intended to go. Curse that boy's long tongue."
"But Oxford has a long tongue too, and he is acting for you in the arrangements for the tourney."
"Yes." Pembroke laughed. "And who will believe him no matter what he tells the men he hires. All know what Radnor did in Oxford's keep. Think how foolish Oxford will seem if he says that I, Radnor's father-by-marriage, gave him gold to hire assassins. What purpose could I have for so mad an act when Radnor's father is yet alive?"
"That is true, but this plan
must
work. We must be rid of him before the council. I fear his influence with the Marcher lords, and I greatly fear that he has a plan to steal Hereford and Chester away from the court if there is an accusation. Once they reach their own lands, there will be no holding them. I hope you are sure of what you do, for your danger will be greater than mine if they are not taken."
"It cannot fail."
Pembroke smiled his assurance at her, and Maud offered her hand again to be kissed and left. The smile began to fade from Pembroke's face, and then grew broader. Radnor would die in the tourney most certainly, but Maud might not approve of the manner of his going. Did she think him such a fool as to put himself completely in her power? He too needed a weapon in reserve, and he had it in the way his plans were laid. First he had sent a warning to Oxford that the queen had bribed some of Oxford's men to murder Radnor, pleading that his son-by-marriage be kept safe. Then, pretending to be terrified by the queen's threats and grief-stricken at what he was forced to do, he had come to Oxford to arrange Radnor's death in the tourney. Oxford was very happy to make the arrangements, hating Radnor, but if the queen had not tried to use his keep as a place to assassinate her enemy he would have been saved much hurt. He did not mind keeping Pembroke's name out of it and hinting to the men he hired that when they accomplished their purpose they would find favor in high places. Maud will play no tricks on me, Pembroke said to himself, having already arranged both the kidnapping of Leah and a way out of the well-guarded little house, and went to his dinner with excellent appetite.
The Earl of Gaunt was also thinking of the royal tourney, but he was not eating his dinner with appetite. He was staring sightlessly across the great hall of Radnor Castle. Sir Robert had died that morning. He had not died easily or quickly, but he had told all he knew of Pembroke's plans before he was granted that merciful oblivion. It was true that Sir Robert could not, or would not, give any details; it did not matter. Gaunt did not need to be told that the easiest way to murder a man and conceal the fact of murder was during a tourney. His messenger had been sent off some hours before, carrying all that he knew or guessed to warn Cain, but Gaunt's mind would not clear. He sat toying with his food, telling himself that Cain was old enough to care for his own interests and could be trusted to take adequate precautions.
"Old fool," he muttered angrily, paring a sliver of meat from the roast before him and putting it into his mouth, "what is there to consider? He has faced worse danger on the field before. He managed that business at Oxford Castle well—if a little too thoroughly. It is more needful to keep the land quiet than to worry over one man's life in any case."
For whom do I keep the land quiet, he wondered, the well-flavored and succulent meat sticking like dry dust in his throat. I am almost three-score years, and except for him there is no one, not even a cousin of Welsh blood. So the estate, whole and peaceful, will pass to his murderer or to the king. Nonsense! Cain will return as he always has. He will find some excuse not to fight or he will find some way to guard himself. He is no fool. The old man laughed aloud harshly. To think of Cain trying to find an excuse not to fight was as ridiculous as thinking of his trying to fly. Besides, what excuse could he find? To say that his father-by-marriage was conspiring to assassinate him would make him a laughingstock, and to admit that he would not: fight for that reason would brand him a coward. I alone could stop him, Gaunt thought.
He rose restlessly and paced to the nearest window, noting the position of the sun and counting the hours that remained. Sending another messenger would be useless. Probably Cain would pay no attention since only his own safety was at stake. Even if Cain should wish to obey, he had not sufficient men with him to fight his way free of the city, and to leave it peacefully at such a time was impossible. With Chester's plot widely known and Henry of Anjou rumored to be coming, Maud was not likely to leave unwatched any man who was not devoted to her heart and soul. Cain could not even approach one of the London gates without giving warning of his intentions.
Gaunt tapped his knuckles against the frame of the window.
The sky was serenely blue, investing the turbid waters of the moat with a wholly false appearance of clarity. The meadows, cleared from the surrounding forest, sloped gently away from the walls and cattle fed peacefully upon the good grass. Along the track leading to the drawbridge, a carter urged his oxen in a monotonous singsong. A rich land, a good land, a land worth defending. The tapping fist came down with a crash that brought blood to Gaunt's knuckles and startled the men-at-arms.
"Let every man able arm and provision himself to ride to London," Gaunt roared.
I will not let them eat my son. He will not fight without his men around him to be surely slain. I will cry defiance to the king if need be, and if that is being forsworn, then forsworn I will be. He is flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, and they shall not have him.
The day before the tourney, in the women's quarters of the White Tower, Maud and Joan of Shrewsbury were exchanging half-confidences.
"Oxford tells me that Hereford may change sides at the tourney," Joan commented when the other ladies were out of earshot.
"The more fool Oxford," Maud replied tartly, for her temper was on edge with waiting for events to move. "The only thing Hereford could change for is to separate himself from Chester, and he would never do that. There is no such thing as political expedience to a man raised in the principles of Miles of Gloucester and so young as Roger of Hereford."
"Oh? Oxford thought that Pembroke had warned him to change because he hoped to separate him from Lord Radnor. If Hereford fights on Radnor's right hand, it will increase the difficulty of pricking Radnor hard enough to keep him abed."
"If that was intended, it would indeed. For that type of wound—bad enough, but not too bad—care and consideration are needed."
The bright color in Joan's cheeks faded appreciably. ·"Madam, you cannot mean to have him slain!"
"What else? Why, Joan, you are distressed. If I had known you still had a lust to that particular piece of manhood, I would not have told you. It would have been easier for you to have believed it to be an accident. My dear, I am truly sorry, but you have spoken of him with such cold disdain for the past year that—"
"I assure you my distress is for no such reason. I have not now, and never did have any feeling at all except, oh, perhaps, a little pity, for Lord Radnor. I did only what we decided would be best. Shrewsbury felt it to be an object of the first importance to block his betrothal to Elizabeth of Chester. That accomplished, I was finished with him. Still, I knew him well. To snuff out such a life deliberately … I am distressed for a pet dog that dies."
Maud knew that Joan was really upset because it was not like her to make foolish statements, and at the time she had been leading Lord Radnor on a string he had already been contracted for Leah. The business with Elizabeth had been years earlier. She did not appear to notice the slip, but went on sweetly.
“I must say that this surprises me. What exactly was between you two was always a puzzle, but I must compliment you, and Shrewsbury too, upon your powers of dissimulation. I would have sworn, and I am no fool, that you were in love and that your lord knew nothing. Radnor, it was plain, was hard hit, but he is like glass in matters regarding women. I wish it were so in other matters; things then might not have come to this pass. I am a little sorry for his silly bride, but she is plainly simple." Of this, Maud was not at all sure, but she wished to enrage Joan. "She will forget him in a month or two. Speaking of that, and since you say it is not a tender subject, I have heard that he is completely besotted about her. I have set my servants upon his and they talk."
"About what?"
"Everything. Is that not the way with servants? Imagine, he could not summon sufficient resolution to leave her behind with her parents—and she told me in ten minutes everything she had seen and heard. I scarcely needed to ask a question; it poured from her. Her eyes are already wandering too. You should see how she looks at William of Gloucester. Radnor will be spared the grief of being cuckolded at least."
"I can scarcely believe that Lord Radnor could care for such a woman. He took her, I know, because of the dower lands, and he was none too eager to fulfill the contract."
"Yes, he was mooning over you like a sick calf then. It is true that he is mad for her now, nonetheless. He has changed. It is a matter of jest with his men that he cannot wait to get up the stairs to her solar. And for all he speaks sharply to her and she does not know her power, the servants say that he is ever kissing and pawing her. They are afraid to enter the room for he always must break an embrace and looks black as night at them. He is so mad for her," Maud added, laughing, "that he discusses business with his master-of-arms in her presence. I know some things that will cost Lord Radnor dear—or would if he lived."
Maud knew what she was doing. The color had returned, higher than ever, to Joan's face and her blue eyes fairly shot sparks. Whatever momentary softness she had felt for her old love, for Maud believed not a word of that nonsense about not caring for him, she felt only hate now.
Maud had miscalculated again, however. She had set Leah's worth and Joan's intelligence both too low and had, all unintentionally, given Joan reason to believe she might win Cain back and a weapon to use for that purpose. Joan was willing to accept the fact that Cain was presently enamored of his wife's physical charms—after all they had only been married for about three weeks. She had always thought, and now was sure, that Leah was not equal to him. As soon as he discovered this, he would be bored and might easily be brought to appreciate a woman who had more to offer than a mere body, especially when the body was well worth having too.
Lord Radnor had left her—Joan faced the fact—because she had betrayed him. How bitterly she regretted it now, not the betrayal, which was necessary, but the crude way she had told him and laughed at him. She had been so sure that he was too much her slave, too much in love to resent anything. Now, however, it was his wife who had betrayed him, and Joan was in a position to save his life and warn him that Leah was a fool and was carrying tales to Maud.
In her own apartments at home, Joan bit her lips over the wording of her message. She had no fear that Leah would read it, for she was sure that the girl was too ignorant to read. What was more, she cared not a fig how jealous Leah became. Her difficulty was that she wished to communicate the idea that she was risking her safety and her husband's prosperity to do Radnor this service. Neither was true, of course, for although Joan desired Radnor, she did not care enough for him or for any living soul except herself to risk anything. Even with a warning, Radnor would probably be badly enough hurt to be incapacitated, and that was all that was necessary for Joan's purposes. She only wanted to keep him from seeing Henry of Anjou until Shrewsbury had a chance to conclude his business with the young pretender. About Maud's plans for Wales she knew and cared nothing.