The Taming (21 page)

At that moment Liana came flying down the stairs, long blonde hair streaming behind her, her robe opening to show slim bare legs. She threw herself at Rogan, her arms about his neck. “You're safe,” she cried, tears wetting his shoulder. “I was terrified for you.”

For a moment Rogan forgot the bloodstained men around him, as well as his scowling brother, and hugged her trembling body to his. It was only luck that she was still here and not taken by Howard's men. He stroked her hair and soothed her. “I'm unhurt,” he whispered.

He looked up to see the face of one of his men, one of his father's men, a man who'd followed Rowland into battle, and he saw disgust on the man's face. Disgust that a Peregrine would be standing here in the early dawn, two dead men at his feet, and cooing to a woman.

Over the past few weeks, Rogan knew that his men had sided with him over Severn because Rogan had never slacked in his training. And they hadn't seen the way Rogan sat in the solar with his wife in the evening and listened to women singing. Nor had they seen Rogan allowing his wife to help him design machines of war.

But now, as Rogan looked into the eyes of his men, he knew their loyalty had just changed. How could they follow a man who, because of a quarrel with his wife, was too drunk to hear an attack? How could he control them? In the village play, the peasants had portrayed him as being “tamed,” as a man whose wife had put a collar on him and led him away. At the time, the idea had seemed too absurd to consider, but now he saw some truth in the play.

He had to establish his control before his men or lose their respect forever.

He abruptly pulled Liana from him, then shoved her away. “Get back to the house, woman, where you belong.”

Liana had some idea of Rogan's embarrassment. She straightened her shoulders. “I will help. How many wounded are there?” She turned to the man who'd been watching Rogan with so little respect. “Take these men to the kitchen, it'll be warmer there. And fetch—”

Rogan had to stop her. “Obey me!” he bellowed.

“But there are wounded men here.”

His men, wounded and well, were watching him intently and Rogan knew that it was now or never. “I married you for your money,” he said evenly and loudly enough for all his men to hear, “and not for your advice or your beauty.”

Liana felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She wanted to reply, but her throat closed and she couldn't speak. Around her she could feel the men's smirks. Here was a woman who had been put in her place. Slowly, she turned and started back into the castle.

For just a moment Rogan almost went after her, but he didn't. “Get these men up,” he said. He'd make it up to her tonight. Maybe a gift. She had liked that little doll from the fair so much, maybe—

“Take them where?” Severn asked.

Rogan saw respect once again in his brother's eyes. “The Great Hall,” he said. “And get a leech to sew them up. Then bring me the men who were on guard duty.”

“Yes, brother,” Severn said, and for a moment put his hand on Rogan's shoulder.

To Rogan, the hand felt heavy with responsibility.

 

“He did it,” Severn said proudly to Iolanthe. “I knew that when we needed him, he'd be there. You should have seen him yesterday morning. ‘I married you for your money, not for your advice or your beauty.' That's what he told her. Now maybe she'll stop interfering in Peregrine business.”

Io looked at him over her tapestry frame. She'd heard all about what had happened yesterday. “Where did your wise brother sleep last night?”

“I don't know.” Severn hesitated. “With his men, maybe. He should have broken the bedroom door down. That woman needs to be taught a lesson.”

Io watched Severn scratching. It had been so good when, for a while, he was clean. “You have nearly got the castle back to the way it was. Your brother is sleeping with his men, and I imagine he is as unhappy as he ever was. I don't guess he's smiling now, is he?”

Severn stood and walked toward the window. Zared had said Severn was jealous, and part of him was beginning to wonder if that was correct. Yesterday Severn had won. He'd forced Rogan into publicly denying his wife, into making her retreat from him. And what had he won? The last twenty-four hours had been miserable. He hadn't realized how much Rogan had changed since he'd married that woman.

The old Rogan had returned in full force. On the training field he was a vicious taskmaster. He had broken the arm of one knight who wasn't quick enough. He had gashed the cheek of another. And when Severn had protested, one blow from Rogan had sent him sprawling.

Severn turned back to Io. “Rogan is as angry as he ever was.”

Iolanthe could read his thoughts. There wasn't a malicious bone in Severn's body—which is one reason why she loved him. But he was like most men in that he didn't like change. He had loved, worshiped, his older brothers and one by one he'd seen them die until only Rogan was left. And now he was afraid of losing him, too.

“So what are you going to do to get them back together?” Io asked as she couched gold thread onto the needlepoint background.

“Together?” Severn gasped. “Have Rogan lounging about in the solar all afternoon? The place will fall apart. The Howards will kill us in our sleep. They'll—”

“Rogan is going to kill you with work if you do not rectify your interference.”

He opened his mouth to contradict her but shut it and sat back down in the chair.

“I guess she's not so bad,” he said after a moment. “And maybe the place did need a bit of cleaning.” He looked at Io. “All right, a lot of cleaning, but she didn't have to—” He stopped, not knowing what else to say. “She didn't have to take him away so completely,” he said at last.

“She loves him,” Io said. “That's a fatal thing to happen to a woman.” She looked at Severn with love, but he didn't notice. Iolanthe admired this pale, plain Liana, who'd been able to do what Io could not. “Send Liana an invitation to supper, make it from Rogan, then send Rogan an invitation from Liana.”

Severn scratched furiously at his shoulder. “Do you think she'll have my clothes washed?”

“If you give her back Rogan, I'm sure she will.”

“I will think about it,” Severn said softly. “If Rogan gets worse, I'll consider it.”

 

“Does he think he can win me back so easily?” Liana asked Gaby. They were alone in the solar, Liana having sent her other women away. “Does he think that a single invitation from him will make me come crawling back to him? After the way he humiliated me?”

“But, my lady,” Gaby said pleadingly, “sometimes men say things they don't mean, and it's been a whole week now. Baudoin said Lord Rogan is worse than he ever was, that he never sleeps or lets the men rest. He doubled the guards on the parapets, and any guard who so much as blinks is flogged.”

“Of what concern is that of mine? He has my money; he has what he wants.” The deep, deep hurt she'd felt at his words had not abated in the past week. She had been lying to herself in thinking that he cared anything about her. He had married her for her money and money was all he wanted from her. Well he had that now and he no longer had to put up with her. She wouldn't try to come between him and the peasants. She wouldn't nag him to allow her to judge the court cases. In fact, perhaps she'd just take her ladies and go to that other castle he owned, or maybe she'd retire to one of the estates of her dowry—if he could spare the revenue.

“You mean to refuse his invitation?” Gaby asked.

“I will pack a bag full of gold plates and put them on the chair in my place. That should satisfy him. Then he wouldn't have to look at my ugliness.”

“But, my lady, I'm sure he didn't—”

Gaby kept talking, but Liana didn't listen. The thought of the gold and her lack of beauty had given her an idea. “Fetch the blacksmith to me.”

“My lady?”

“Send the blacksmith to me. I have a job for him to do.”

“If you will tell me what it is, I'll—”

“No, this is my secret.”

Gaby stood where she was. “Do you mean to accept the invitation?”

“Oh yes,” Liana said. “I will accept my husband's invitation and he will get my gold and he will not have to look upon my plain face.”

Gaby still didn't move. “Sometimes it is better to forgive and forget than to keep on with the fight. Marriage is—”

“My
marriage is based on gold and nothing else. Now, go!”

“Yes, my lady,” Gaby said meekly, and left the solar.

Three hours later, Liana was dressing to attend the supper her husband had invited her to. Joice was helping her, as Liana didn't want Gaby's disapproval—and disapproval she knew it would be.

Nor did she want the Lady's disapproval. As Liana mounted the solar stairs, she'd seen that the Lady's door was unlocked and standing ajar. “I will always be here when you need me,” the Lady had said, and it was true. Whenever she'd come to a crisis with Rogan, the door had been open.

But tonight Liana did not want to talk to the Lady, because Liana did not want to be dissuaded from what she was about to do. Her hurt was too deep and too raw to do anything else. Was she to say she forgave him? If she did, what would he do to her next time? He could humiliate her daily and expect her to forgive him anything.

So Liana ignored the invitation that the Lady's open door signaled and instead dressed with Joice's aid.

 

“Get out of here!” Rogan bellowed to Severn. They were in one of the rooms over the kitchen, a room that had once been occupied by a Day. It was already dirty, since no cleaning had been done in a week, and a big rat gnawed on a bone in a dark corner.

“I thought you might like to wear something that stank a little less, that's all. And maybe shave.”

“Why?” Rogan asked belligerently. “To eat with a woman? You were right. It was better before she interfered. I think I'll send her to Bevan.”

“And how many men must leave here to protect her? The Howards will—”

“The Howards can have her, for all I care.” Even as Rogan said it, he winced. Damn the bitch to hell, anyway! He'd tried to see her after what he'd said, but she'd locked the door against him. His first impulse had been to beat the door down and show her who was master in his home, but then he'd felt like a fool for caring. Let her stay behind the locked door if she wanted, it didn't matter to him. He'd told the truth when he'd said he'd married her for her money.

But during the past week he'd…well, he'd remembered things. He'd remembered her laughing, remembered the way she threw her arms about his neck when he'd pleased her, remembered her opinions and suggestions, remembered her warm, willing body at night. He remembered the things she caused to happen: music, good food, a courtyard that he could walk across without stepping in a pile of horse manure, the day at the fair. He remembered holding her hand. He remembered watching Gaby wash her hair.

He glared at Severn. “Since when have you cared whether I dressed for my wife or not?”

“Since there was sand in my bread two days ago and since Io started being less than warm to me.”

“Send her back to her husband, and I'll send…”—he could hardly say her name—“…I'll send Liana,” he said softly, “away.”

“Probably be better for both of us,” Severn said. “A lot quieter, certainly. And we could get some work done. And we wouldn't have to worry about the Howards attacking us to get at our women. But on the other hand, the men have been complaining about the bread. Perhaps…” He trailed off.

Rogan looked at the dark green velvet tunic Severn still held. Perhaps, since she had sent him an invitation, it meant she was ready to apologize for locking him out of their room and for allowing sand in the bread and rats in the rooms. And if she was ready to apologize, perhaps he was ready to forgive her.

 

Liana waited until all of Rogan's men were seated in the Great Hall and Rogan and Severn and Zared sat at the high table. Joice lowered the veil over her mistress's face.

“You are sure, my lady?” Joice asked grimly, her disapproval showing in her tight mouth.

“More than sure,” Liana said, and put her shoulders back.

Every man and the few women in the Hall were quiet as Liana entered, Joice holding her long, fur-trimmed train. Liana's face was covered by a veil that reached to her waist.

Solemnly, slowly, she walked toward the high table and stood there waiting until Severn nudged Rogan, and Rogan stood and pulled her chair out for her. As Liana sat down, still the room was silent, every eye on the master and mistress.

Rogan seemed to have no idea what to do to break the silence. “Would you like some wine?” he asked at last, his voice ringing in the high-ceilinged stone room.

Very slowly, Liana put her arms under her veil and raised it. There was an audible gasp through the room as they saw her. About Liana's face, suspended from strings attached to her headdress, were coins: gold coins, silver coins, copper coins. In each one a hole had been punched, a string attached, and then fastened to her headdress.