"Are you all right, Roger?"
"No, I am not. I hurt. If I had time I would be sick with a good will." Hereford seized eagerly on the excuse offered by his brother. It was true enough after all. "I cannot think. I—oh, yes, there is one way you may do me a great service. In the court and the lower hall there are men—some spies, some prisoners, some serfs we have picked up, some deserters—from the keeps in which I am interested. Will you go and see what information you can wring from them? Forgive me, I know it is dirty work and I had intended to discharge the task myself, but I have no time now myself and I know not whom else to trust. Besides, just at this time—"
Walter laughed. "Your stomach is uneasy enough. I know. I do not mind." He looked after his brother as Hereford went out, quickly sobered. He did not like to see Roger looking so strained and ill. For many years Walter had based his rejection of Roger on envy. Hereford was rich; he, except for his brother's generosity, was poor. Hereford was handsome; he was not. Most of all, Hereford always seemed carefree and happy, and he always knew himself to be miserable.
To see Roger in this state shook the entire fabric Walter had carefully constructed to defend himself from helpless adoration. If his defense failed, he felt that Hereford would devour him alive as he had devoured his mother and sisters, who seemed unable to breathe but by his direction. Possibly it was not by intention that Roger reduced them to nothing, but his love was protective and enveloping—and smothering.
Somewhat earlier on the same day, Lord Radnor pulled his horse to a halt. About a mile ahead the road forked. The right track would take them to Hereford Castle, the straight path went through the town and on west to Painscastle. He looked with pleasure at the peaceful land; the soft air of April touching his face made him spread his nostrils to scent the spring. His expression did not change, but his heart had been singing louder and louder since they had turned west and now the joyous noise in his soul was like the full choir at the cathedral. For a week, no, better, two weeks, he could be at home with nothing to do but attend to the affairs of his own property, play with his son, and make love to his wife.
When he thought of Leah he felt, as always, a pleasant tightening in his genitals and a slight shortening of his breath. He sat on the quiet horse, apparently surveying the road before them and the general scene, but in reality his eyes were blind and he was savoring with delight the sensations of his own great body. Dizzy with the pleasures of the sight of a peaceful, unburnt countryside, the scent of spring, and the feel of his anticipation of love and comfort, Radnor started when Elizabeth touched him. There was fear in her face.
"Why do we stand here so long?"
"I am sorry, madam, I did not realize you were in haste. I did but stop to pleasure myself with the sight and smell of a happy land."
Elizabeth sighed and steadied her lips. "I am in no haste. So long as you hear and see nothing to fear, we may stand here all day for all of me."
"You need fear nothing in my care, Elizabeth. I will keep you safe."
Lord Radnor was a little surprised. He had known Elizabeth all her life, since her father was his godfather, and he never remembered her confessing to being afraid of anything before. It was one of the things that he had objected to about her; he felt that she had a courage unsuitable to a woman. As a matter of fact, although he often enjoyed Elizabeth's company while she was Elizabeth Chester, he had thought Roger mad to offer for her. He would not have taken a woman with such a temper and such a will for ten times the dower she had, he told himself, nor ten times the beauty. He was happily oblivious of the fact that his own wife, whom he thought gentle as a newborn lamb, had a stronger will and a temper just as fierce, if far better controlled. Leah ruled her husband differently, however, and the outward form of acquiescence and subservience that she accorded him satisfied him.
"Safe!" Elizabeth burst out, interruptingRadnor's thoughts. "What do I care for being safe? I wish I were dead." She looked away, mastering her emotion after a short struggle, and spoke more quietly. "It is only that I have caused Roger sufficient trouble and loss. I would not wish him to suffer further through me."
The dark eyes which Lord Radnor normally kept half lidded to hide their expression opened wide with amazement. This attitude on Elizabeth's part was more of a shock than her confession of fear. He had never suspected that she cared for anyone at all other than herself and possibly her father. His face softened somewhat. Perhaps he had been unkind these last two days in his cold manner to his godsister. Perhaps she was bearing a heavy enough load in her recognition of the harm she had done without his adding his scorn to it.
"Elizabeth, would you like to come straight on to Painscastle with me? I fear you may not be comfortable at Hereford. Lady Hereford—I mean the dowager, of course, will surely hear of this …" His voice faded, as he did not know just how to phrase a description of the trouble Elizabeth had caused. "Leah will love to have you. You know I speak the truth in that. She is very fond of you, Elizabeth. Come to us for a month or two. Leah will amuse you, my son will divert you with his ways, and I will be gone in a week or two."
She did not turn to him because she could not control her expression. "You are very kind, Cain, but I think that the welcome I will receive in Hereford is perhaps what I deserve."
"Perhaps," Radnor agreed dryly. His sympathy for Elizabeth was not sufficient to make him deny so plain a truth. "Nonetheless, I do not believe Hereford would wish you to be unhappy. You cannot blame him for being angry, but that will not last long." His voice grew even drier, as he remembered Hereford's stricken face when the news of her capture came. "Aside from other matters which make you valuable to him, he is mad for you, Elizabeth. I know not, and do not wish to know, why you played him such a trick, but it was not befitting conduct, for I know him well and know that he could not have merited it. If he was not kind, seeming to set your sufferings at naught, it was because his own were too great to forget so quickly."
"He was too kind," Elizabeth said in a stifled voice. "My heart would be lighter if he had been harsher. I thank you again for your offer, but I wish to go home."
That was firmly enough said to permit of no argument and they discussed the matter no further. Radnor valued the little time be had to spend with his wife too much to really desire any visitors and Elizabeth was only too eager to seize the relief of less personal conversation. Radnor stayed the night at Hereford keep, forestalling by his talk of his own affairs, for Lady Hereford was fond of him and deeply interested in his wife and child, any extended questions regarding the badly wounded men of Hereford's household he brought home.
Radnor could not avoid mentioning that there had been some heavy fighting in explanation of their condition, but he assured his friend's mother, somewhat mendaciously, that Roger was perfectly well, and cleverly turned the conversation elsewhere. It was Elizabeth's duty to explain, if she wished to do so, what had happened. That duty Elizabeth fulfilled the next day. She had gone to attend to the wounded very early, to be sure they were all cared for and denied nothing. Lady Hereford, coming for the same purpose, although with less reason for her anxiety, found her there.
"What happened, Elizabeth? Were you there when this battle took place? Now that I come to think of it, Lord Radnor said very little to the point."
"He had his reasons, madam," Elizabeth replied. Her head came up and her shoulders braced. "If you will come where we can be private, I will tell you the whole. You have a right to know, and I have no right to conceal."
The facts were briefly related, Elizabeth indeed concealing nothing, not even her reasons for her actions. She was fiercely glad to display her guilt, for her need for punishment had reached such proportions that she felt she would go mad if it was not satisfied. If Lady Hereford told Roger, so much the better; she would be glad of that too because she had fretted herself into a state in which she believed she had no right to his love. Even as she poured this all out, she knew that the intensity of her grief would pass and that she might well regret her impetuosity more deeply than her misdeeds, but, as in all other things her immediate emotion swayed her, and unburdening her heart was all that mattered.
"I told him he would be sorry he took you to wife," Lady Hereford cried viciously. "He is a fool about women. A pretty face could always turn his head. I will write to him at once. You will not go scot free out of this, cajoling him against his sense and will with your beauty. He is free of your presence now and can think clearly. God willing, I shall free him of you completely. Roger will listen to me now that you have proved your falsity and untrustworthiness. You have no child of him. We are rich—and if we are not rich enough I will sell my dower rights for gold. We will buy an annulment of this horrible marriage from the pope. It is against the will of God for a man as good as my son to be mated with a woman so evil."
The second night they spent at Devizes, Hereford was wakened by his brother's hand on his shoulder and his voice calling his name. He came instantly out of his sleep, completely alert. "Trouble?"
"No, at least, I am not sure. There is a courier—"
"You are supposed to take the night watch," Hereford said with the irritability of a man freshly awakened from a pleasant dream, "and I assume you still know how to read."
"It is a great pleasure to me that you know so much about my abilities," Walter replied nastily, firing up. Service, however, he had pledged, and he swallowed his anger as well as he could. "The message is to be given into your hand alone. Shall I slay the messenger and take it by force? Or should I say that the Earl of Hereford is having his beauty sleep and does not care to be disturbed?"
Hereford scratched his head and yawned. "Very well, send him in." He levered himself up in bed with some effort, tried to move his left arm in a tentative way, winced as he desisted, and took the roll of parchment held out to him by a weary courier only to hand it to Walter again after a glance at the seal. "Break the wax, Walter, it is none so easy to do with one hand."
Walter also looked at the seal, but it meant nothing to him, the device being completely strange. Watching his brother's expression grow blacker and blacker as he read, however, Walter was moved to ask impatiently whether the news was bad.
"No. It is good news. It merely sits very ill with my own wishes. There is no help for it though, we must move at once or we will be too late." He turned to the courier. "You are Sir Ralph Pritchard?"
"Yes, Lord Hereford."
"How do you know I am the Earl of Hereford?"
"I have seen you at court. Once seen, Roger of Hereford's face is not forgotten."
That drew a laugh, although the compliment was accepted without a blink. "Do you return whence you came or stay and fight with us?"
"Whatever you will, my lord."
"Very well. Go and find yourself a place to sleep and something to eat if you desire it. In the next few weeks I will be glad of every sword."
Walter, holding the rolled parchment, listened, angry but admiring his brother's adroitness. Without being discourteous to the wellborn messenger by forbidding him to speak or dismissing him without any conversation, he had effectively prevented him from giving any hint as to what was in the message or who sent him. Had Walter known Roger less well, he would have missed the significance of the exchange. As it was, in terms of Walter's feelings, Roger would have done better to be more direct. Walter dropped the chart on his brother's bed.
"Shall I withdraw and close my eyes and stuff my ears lest I hear something unsuitable? You asked me to come with you. If you trust me so little—"
A stricken look crossed Hereford's face for an instant, followed by an expression of resolution. He needed Walter, it was true, but it would be useless to have him if he continually went in fear of treading on his toes. The matter must be settled once and for all. "It is perfectly true that I do not wish you to know what was in that message or from whom it came. I am sorry if you are offended, but there are some things too dangerous for any man except myself to know. You must accept that if you are to serve under me. Now forget that nonsense and unroll that chart. You have heavy work before you, and I will be of little help. I had hoped to delay until my shoulder was healed, but," Hereford sighed, "as usual, there is no time."
"What work?"
"Tomorrow," Hereford had glanced at his markings although it was not necessary. He knew every mark on that parchment by heart. "You must move on Burford. You have not more than a week to reduce it. What will you need in men and arms?"
"You want to know now? Just like that? I have never seen the place."
"You have as much information as I have about it. For God's sake, Walter, bend your mind to the task. I have troubles enough guiding the others by the hand. Do not put me to that labor with you."
"Very well, very well," Walter snapped, flattered and on his mettle, although he knew quite well that it was that reaction Roger was trying to achieve. "Give me at least half an hour to think. You are unreasonable."
"Good enough. I must write to Salisbury. He is to take Stockbridge. That does not touch my men, however, since he takes it to hold for himself. John Fitz Gilbert, too, needs to be spurred a bit to attack Hungerford more seriously." Hereford groaned as he got up. "You would think there was a law against sleeping a night through in this country."
He took pen and parchment but did not begin to write immediately. His news really had been of the first importance. Arundel had passed on a message in Henry's own hand and bearing his seal naming his date of arrival as the first of May. Hereford knew, of course, that the date was subject to change, depending upon winds and weather, but even if Henry was delayed, he himself must be ready. It was necessary to choose carefully what to say, and though plans and needs were clear in Hereford's mind, words were less ready.