“If you can comprehend that I will mourn Simon de Bohun forever, my lord, aye. We will be friends. I think being friends is better than falling in love,” Junia replied.
“When will you wed me, then?” he asked her.
“Simon has not been dead a year yet, but I will marry you immediately, my lord,” she told him. “There was no joy and feasting when I wed Simon. I do not want any now. I hope that you will understand.”
He nodded. “I do, Junia. Come, then, and let us speak with your father on the matter.”
The Dragon Lord protested weakly when his youngest daughter said there would be no festivities for her marriage to William le Clare, but Argel overruled him, and Gorawen and Ysbail both soothed him. “But your sisters will be hurt,” Merin Pendragon said. “You were at their weddings.”
“I am but a widow remarrying,” Junia said sharply. “I do not want a great deal of fuss or to-do. I would wed on the morrow, and leave immediately afterwards for my new home.” Then she turned to William le Clare. “Where is our home, sir?”
“Hereford,” he told her. “A three days’ journey from here. My house sits atop a hill looking west into Wales. I have fields, and meadows. A small forest. A village with a mill and a church. My serfs are industrious and not given to rebellion. You will be happy there, Junia.”
“Aye,” she agreed, “I believe I will. Why would you object, my lord?” she asked her father.
“I don’t,” he grumbled, “but why can you not be wed in a proper fashion like your two sisters?”
“Now if I recall, Averil dragged you, Rhys FitzHugh, and a party of men across the country to Aberffraw for a judgment from the prince because Rhys had bride-napped her thinking she was your heiress. Honor demanded he wed Averil, or that someone else be willing to take her. And then at the last minute Averil decided she would marry Rhys so the prince saw them joined that same day. It was a simple wedding.
“As for Maia, she sat meek as fresh milk while every eligible man in the March tried to court her. Then said she would wed no one but the Lord of the Lake, and locked herself away until you agreed. That, I will admit, was a nice wedding.
“Now, my lord, we come to me, the youngest of your daughters. Because you and the de Bohuns couldn’t put aside a hundred-year-old feud, Hugo and Simon de Bohun are now dead, and their castle of Agramant lies a burned-out ruin. Hugo, I will agree, deserved to die, and it did give me particular satisfaction to see his head upon a pike, but Simon was as innocent of what had happened as I was. Yet you still killed him.
“William le Clare loved his late wife. He seeks a second wife for the purpose of having a child. I am pleased that despite my adventures he will have me to wife. But there is, will be, no love between us. This is a practical arrangement. Let us not make it more than it is. With my good lord’s permission we will wed early on the morrow, and then depart for Hereford. Surely you will cease your objections, my lord sire.”
“But we will have a small breakfast after you are joined,” Argel said quietly. “You cannot begin your long journey without something in your bellies.”
“Agreed, lady!” William le Clare said, and he looked to Junia who bowed her dark head in acceptance.
So in the same gown in which she had greeted him the day before, for it was her best gown, Junia married William le Clare early the next morning. Argel had arranged a pleasant meal for them all, and after they had eaten, the bridal couple, and Lord Mortimer, prepared to depart. Junia’s few personal possessions and dower chest had been packed and stored in a cart for transport. She refused her father’s offer of a serving girl.
“William will provide me with a servant,” she said. “Farewell, my lord.”
“Junia, will you ever forgive me?” he asked her.
She gave him a bleak look, turning away without answering him. Dutifully she hugged and kissed her mother. Ysbail, her usual sharp temper cowed by her daughter’s recent fury, whispered low, “God bless and protect you, my daughter. I think you have done the wise thing.”
“What, Mother,” Junia said, half teasing, “you do not wish to come with me?”
“I will not come to you until you ask me,” Ysbail replied proudly.
Junia turned away from her, and bid first Gorawen, and lastly Argel good-bye.
“You can always come home,” Argel told her softly.
“Never again, Lady Mother,” Junia replied.
They departed Dragon’s Lair, and riding across the fields before the keep Junia thought of that long ago day when Rhys FitzHugh and young Roger Mortimer had surprised them all by the brook, and stolen Averil away. They had all been so young. Now Junia felt as if she were a hundred years old. The man she loved was dead. She was married to a man she could never love, and who could never love her. So much for girlish daydreams.
They reached Lord Mortimer’s house in the late afternoon, their journey slowed slightly by the cart carrying Junia’s possessions. After the evening meal Junia found herself alone in a small guest chamber. She undressed herself and climbing into bed fell asleep. A maidservant awakened her early, bringing water with which she washed. She dressed and went down to the hall where she found her husband and Lord Mortimer already at table. Junia joined them, eating heartily.
“We are a two-day journey from here to my home,” William le Clare told his bride. “I have arranged for us to spend the night at the monastery of St.Wulfstan. It is a long day’s ride, Junia, and I would have you prepared for it.”
Thanking Lord Mortimer they departed for Hereford. William le Clare had not lied. The day’s ride was very long, and they reached their destination as the sun was beginning to slip beneath the hills behind them. They were welcomed, and shown to separate guest quarters. As there were no other women traveling through that night Junia found herself quite alone. A meal was brought to her, for the monastery had no place where women guests might eat. She was awakened in the early morning by a most ancient monk who brought her a small trencher filled with oat stirabout, and a small cup of cider. She giggled to herself thinking the abbot probably considered the old fellow safe from her feminine wiles. She had slept in her gown, and so after relieving herself she ate quickly, assuming her husband would want to get started early.
William le Clare smiled when he found her already awaiting him in the courtyard. “The ride will not be quite so long today,” he promised her. “I am pleased to see you are a woman who understands the value of time.”
Her little cart rumbling behind them, they set out again. They traveled with a dozen men-at-arms, one of whom was driving the vehicle so it would not be necessary to return a serf. Junia began to pay attention to the countryside about her. It was different from her mountainous and rugged Welsh homeland. The land rolled gently. There were fields and meadows and orchards. Hereford had a most prosperous and green look about it. It was mid-May she realized. Married in May. She’ll rue the day. The old saying popped into her mind. She wondered if her father had given her husband sixteen silver pennies or if because she had not yet celebrated her birthday, had he given William only fifteen. Her curiosity piqued, she asked him.
“He counted out sixteen pennies,” William told her.
Junia smiled. The Dragon Lord had felt guilty. Good! “When did he say he would see the rest of my dower paid?” she asked her husband.
“Within the month,” he told her.
Junia nodded, satisfied.
It was in the middle of the afternoon that he pointed as he said to her, “There is your new home, Junia. There is Landor.”
She looked, and felt an odd sense of pleasure. The house was stone, two storied on one end, with a slate roof. They turned off the main track, and followed a tree-lined path up a long and gentle incline until they finally reached the house. Almost at once several servants came forth to greet their master.
“This is your new mistress,” William le Clare told them. “I have taken another wife. You will obey her, for the house and all in it are now hers.” He lifted Junia
from her horse, but rather than putting her on her feet carried her through the front door of the house saying, “ ’Tis an old custom in this part of the country to carry the bride into her new home the first time.” He set her down on the floor of the front hallway.
Junia found herself rosy with her blushes, especially as the house servants who had been already informed of a new mistress had gathered to meet her with smiling faces, and were winking and poking at each other.
William le Clare looked about, and then he signaled a pleasant-faced young woman forward. “This is Susan, my lady wife. She will serve you. Take your new mistress upstairs, Susan, and see she is settled,” he ordered the girl.
Susan led Junia up the staircase and down a hall into a lovely bedchamber. “This was the old mistress’s room, lady. It is clean, but we were not expecting a new mistress. Master said he was going to visit Lord Mortimer.”
“Lord Mortimer is my da’s friend,” Junia explained. “The chamber is fine, Susan, but I am used to regular bathing, and we have been on the road for three days. Will you arrange a bath for me?”
Susan nodded. “Where is your family home, my lady?” she asked, and going to a wall cupboard she opened it, and pulled out a round oak tub. Setting it by the fireplace she said, “I’ll have the lads bring up the hot water.” Going to the door of the chamber she called out, “Water for my lady’s bath!”
“My father is called the Dragon Lord. We are descended from the great King Arthur, Susan. Pendragon is our family name,” Junia explained.
“Then you be Welsh,” Susan answered, nodding. This was a piece of information to tell the others, she thought. They had all been very surprised when Wat came running into the house crying that the master had brought home a new bride. This girl was much younger than Lady Adele, God assoil her good soul. The master had taken her to get an heir on for certain, Susan thought. He should have no trouble since she was fair enough.
The bath water came, and the tub was filled. Junia bathed, and then put on an orange tawny undergown, and a sleeveless gold and orange brocade overgown that Susan admired greatly as she led her new mistress down to the hall of the house where William le Clare was awaiting his bride.
“The meal is ready,” he told her. “You must be hungry after our long journey today. Come.” He brought her to the high board and seated her in the mistress’s chair.
After the meal Junia asked to be excused from the hall as she was weary.
He nodded his consent, adding low, “But you will recall, Junia, it is our wedding night.” His handsome face was serious.
“Of course, my lord,” Junia answered him. “I will await you.” How odd she thought as she hurried up the stairs. Her wedding night. She had never had a wedding night with Simon. Just a cruel coupling before his father and his father’s rough men. She thought back, and decided that she had not really enjoyed her coupling with Simon. The process had been rather unpleasant, and it had hurt. It was only supposed to hurt once, but that was only what she had heard. She did not know if it was true.
Susan was awaiting her. The serving woman helped her young mistress from her garments, leaving her with only her lawn chemise with its ruffles at neck and sleeves. Carefully she put everything away as Junia washed her face, hands and teeth. She had unpacked Junia’s belongings. Now she handed Junia her ash-wood brush.
“You may go now, Susan. I will not need you again tonight,” she told the woman.
“Yes, lady,” Susan answered, curtseying.
“And, Susan, I am a widow,” Junia informed the servant lest the other servants look for any evidence of her virginity on the morrow, and not finding it, gossip.
Susan blushed, and Junia knew she had been correct to bring up this point.
Junia sat down on the large oak bed. The linens smelled of lavender, and the heavy dark green velvet bed curtains were not musty. Unplaiting her hair she began to brush it out. She had worn a veil on their journey and so her tresses were not too dusty. Still, she thought, I must wash my hair tomorrow. Slowly she drew the brush bristles from the very top of her head to the tips of her dark locks. This was a pleasant room, and she felt strangely comfortable in it. It was the same feeling as when she had first seen the house from a distance, sitting on its hillock.
The door to her chamber opened quietly, and William le Clare entered. He smiled at her as he began to undress, and said, “You may change the room to suit yourself, Junia. Adele said it was an easeful chamber.”
“God assoil the lady Adele’s good soul, my lord, she was right about that. It is an easeful place, and while I may put my own possessions about the chamber, I am content to live in it as it is.” She was careful to avoid looking at him now. She did not know what the protocol was with a man for a wedding night. For any night, she considered, almost laughing aloud.
Walking over to her he took the brush from her hand. “Let me,” he said, sitting beside her, and brushing her long hair. “What lovely hair you have, Junia. It is thick and soft to my touch. Has it ever been cut?”
“Nay, my lord, only trimmed,” she answered him.
“It has the sheen of a raven’s wing, wife,” he told her. She felt him pull the curtain of her hair aside, and then his lips kissed her neck.
Junia sat very still. She had absolutely no idea of what she should do, or indeed if she should do anything.
“Would you remove your chemise?” he asked politely.
Obediently Junia stood up, undid the ribbons at the neckline of her garment, and drew the chemise off over her head, laying it on the settle by the hearth.
“Turn about so I may see you better,” he said.
Junia turned, her head turned from his gaze. Her heart was beating very quickly.
He was silent for a long time, and then he said, “You are very beautiful, wife.”
It grew silent again, and finally Junia burst out, “I do not know what you want of me, my lord. You must guide me, for I have no real knowledge of what I must do.”
“Ah,” he said, and then, “tell me exactly what happened, Junia, when you were robbed of your virtue.” Reaching out he drew her down into his lap.
It was the first time since that day that Junia had allowed herself to think on it. She was not certain she could, but then she said, “I was forced to disrobe. I would show no fear before Hugo de Bohun and his men, for I knew that was what they wanted. They wanted to gain their first pleasure from my shame at being naked before them. I gave them no satisfaction, however. When I was naked I was pulled down upon the ground, on my back. Two men knelt by my head, holding my arms down. Two men took my legs, and held them wide apart. Then Simon was forced down upon me. He tried very hard to be gentle, but his father took a leather strap, and beat his bottom to make him perform well before them. He whispered to me to scream when my maidenhead was shattered or his father would be dissatisfied. He did not have to tell me. The pain was hurtful, and the men surrounding us cheered my deflowering while many of them took their own manhoods in hand, and spilled their seed upon the ground. After that I would not let Simon have me, for I was ashamed, my lord.”
William le Clare realized as he listened with horror to Junia’s monotone recital that he was glad that both of the de Bohuns were slain by his young wife’s father. He had himself never known such cruelty, and that it had been done against a virtuous maid of good family was criminal. Now, if he was to have an heir of his young wife he must contend with the damage done her. “I am sorry, Junia,” he told her quietly. “But now you must tell me of the kissing and petting games you and Simon played before this event occurred. Can you do that?”
“We played no such games, my lord,” she said, and he heard the truth in her speech. “We sat and we talked,” Junia explained. “When we first met we spoke of all manner of things that we knew, or wished we knew; we spoke of the dreams we had for our futures; and finally we spoke of marriage only to discover the feud between our families. We met that unfortunate day because as we discovered afterwards, each
of us hoped that the other’s family was willing to make peace that we might marry. Instead, Hugo de Bohun followed Simon, and you know the rest,” Junia finished.
William nodded. Now he understood it all. “Ideally, Junia, when a man and a woman make love,” he began, “there is pleasure in the act.”
“I found no pleasure in what Simon did that day,” she answered him honestly.
“Of course not,” he agreed. “You were raped, Junia. Hugo de Bohun wished to impress upon you and his son his dominant will over you both. He did that by forcing Simon to you as a stallion is brought to a mare. Your body was not properly prepared for a man’s, my wife.”
“But Simon was aroused,” Junia said. “I am not so foolish that I don’t know a man must be aroused to take a woman.”
“Aye, and men are easily aroused as a general rule,” William agreed. “But you were not aroused, Junia. And believe me it is a far more pleasurable experience for a man and a woman when both are properly prepared for passion.”
“I can already feel your arousal beneath my buttocks,” Junia told him frankly.
He found himself chuckling. This penchant Junia had for the absolute truth could prove her undoing one day. “Aye, Junia, I find you very desirable,” he admitted. “But you are nowhere near ready to be mounted by me.”
“How do I make myself ready?” she asked him innocently.
“You don’t, wife. I ready you,” he told her. Then his big hand began to caress her small round breasts with a delicate touch.
Junia started. “Why are you doing that?” she demanded to know.
“Because a woman’s breasts have two functions. The most important of which is to nourish her children, but the more delightful role of the breasts is to be caressed by a lover so the lady may be brought to arousal herself. Kissing at the same time helps,” he explained. “Lift your lips to mine, Junia,” he commanded gently, and she obeyed.
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