"Pembroke No, no, Shrewsbury, do not let me interrupt your talk," Radnor said as Shrewsbury started to turn away, “I only wished to inquire whether Philip of Gloucester has arrived. I have heard that he is unwell, and I would ask after my foster brother's welfare."
"I know he is come because Edwina had planned to house him with his brother William in the hall and I had to tell her they were not presently on speaking terms with each other. Since Philip joined Stephen, deserting his father and his cause for the bribes and land the king gave him, those of his blood have turned their backs to him. I believe he has a separate pavilion across the moat because he said he wanted quiet."
"Thank you. His colors will be up or I will recognize his servants. I will find it."
A little while later Radnor was gripping Philip's hand between both of his own. He found it hard to recognize the man who had been his closest friend for many years even though he had seen him only a few months previously.
"My God, Philip, my God! What has befallen you? How is it with you?"
A wasted hand made a gesture of hopelessness. "Never mind that now. Our time is short, let us use it well. I have bad news for you, very bad."
"I know it. You mean that Henry is coming. A pox take him. Nay, I do not mean that, but there could be a better time. Wales is on the boil, although I think I have quenched the flames under the pot a little, and there are still enough men who stand behind Stephen—for one reason or another. England is too much for a boy barely turned sixteen. I know he is wise beyond his years, but this country is like a stallion in rut. It needs a more experienced rider." He made a sharp gesture. "I do not know what ails me, Philip. I speak to you of Wales and England, but I scarcely know what I say. My mind wanders."
"Another woman. What a fool you are over women!" Philip frowned suddenly. "Do not tell me it is the little bride." Radnor nodded, flushing. "Oh, God! I hope you have more joy of this encounter than you had of the last. What is she like?"
"Nothing, no great beauty. She is small and fair. Gentle. I”
“She is unwilling?” Philip asked harshly.
“No, it is not that she is unwilling. It is myself. I fear I cannot—"
Nervously, Radnor got up and sat down, ran a hand through his hair, opened his mouth and shut it. Philip watched him attentively. Now Radnor had turned away slightly and was looking out of the doorway while he spoke, his voice so clogged with emotion that Philip could hardly make out the words. It did not matter. Philip sighed.
New fears, old fears, and the terrible struggle against fear itself and against the need to repress that fear because no one would listen or understand. Philip remembered the tortured, inarticulate youth who had come to fosterage with the Gloucesters, the young man with suspicious eyes who had so slowly become his friend, so slowly been induced to confide his dreams and his terrors. He could say nothing to help against this new terror. What was important was that Radnor trusted him and could reason aloud, sure of sympathy in his presence. Philip's attention was focused by Radnor's sudden, anguished grip on his hand.
"In God's name, Philip, do not leave me. You are the only living soul to whom I can open my heart. Sometimes I forget what it is to talk without a guard on my tongue. When Hereford told me you were sick, I” Radnor swallowed hard. “I did not think. I was taken up with my own trouble and I did not believe it." He dropped his head onto the hand he was holding and Philip could feel his tears.
"Cain," he said gently, "you must believe it, for I am dying."
"No! You cannot know that. Such things are in the hands of God."
"He has given me warning. Nay, do not struggle so. It will be easier for you if you believe me. I grieve to leave so much undone, but it is lighter for me to bear in that I have so little time to think of it. Come now, bear up. You know I would indulge your sorrow, but there is so little time … so little time." There was a long pause before Philip continued. "And I have more trouble to add to what you bear."
In the past Philip had often been disturbed by the violence of his friend's emotions and by the influence those emotions had over his behavior, but now he made no effort to take his cold hand from Radnor's warm clasp. It was good to have someone who cared so much whether he lived or died, for Radnor's tears were the sweat of a heart over-burdened beyond bearing. Philip had never seen Cain weep before.
How infinite was the goodness of God. Radnor's desire to keep him on earth was completely selfish—the generous impulse would be to wish the suffering friend release. Yet it was the selfish desire that warmed Philip's heart and gave him strength. He was so infinitely weary, and the pain that racked him grew more constant and severe day by day. He would have prayed for death, had it not been for Radnor pulling on his heartstrings and for the necessity of striving on towards the crowning of Henry of Anjou. Radnor was in danger and a new outbreak of the civil war now might damage beyond repair Henry's chances of being crowned.
The choking sobs had quieted. Philip said, "Can you listen now, Radnor?"
Cain wiped his face on his gown. ."Yes, I am together again."
"Chester and Hereford are up to some new devilment. What it is—"
"Save your breath. I know all about that or, at least, I will know all soon enough."
"They came to you then?"
"Before I had dismounted from my horse they were upon me."
"Do what you can to stop them. If you do not, I will have to betray them, for the time is not ripe. There must be no war! Cain," Philip drew a painful breath, "I wish I did not have to say this, but your father-by-marriage has some hand in this also."
"Nonsense. Pembroke cares nothing for Stephen or for Henry. He cares only for his skin."
"And his purse. You know that Chester's sister married Pembroke's brother—to bind the families in love! Well, Chester was a loving uncle enough, you know his affections are strong, and was so kind to his nephew Fitz Richard that the fool of a boy offered himself and his land as hostage—" Cain made an impatient gesture of acknowledgment. "Think, Radnor. Pembroke is his uncle too. If the lands fall forfeit because of some folly of Chester's, who so likely to receive them as Pembroke?"
"But Stephen could not be such a fool as to give Fitz Richard’s lands into Pembroke’s power!" A moment later Radnor sighed. "Who knows how much a fool Stephen can be. Nay, Maud would never permit it."
"So I think also, but Pembroke cannot or will not understand the power Maud wields and he thinks he can bend Stephen to his will. Radnor, forgive me, but you must not permit yourself toto—"
"To what?"
"To fall into the power of your wife. You are like to do it, and I believe Pembroke plans to control you through her."
The flash of anger that had lit in Cain's eyes dissipated. "Now, Philip," he demonstrated, "you cannot have it both ways. If Pembroke sets Maud's power at naught, certainly he could not believe that a girl scarce more than a babe could make of me what she will."
A worried frown knitted Philip's brows. "I know, and yet the thing is too perfect. No sooner had you agreed to consummate this marriage than he began to incite Chester with talk of the slights put upon him and the harsh treatment Fitz Richard receives from Stephen and Maud—which, I must say, is nonsense. Fitz Richard is well treated although closely watched. I swear that it was Pembroke who put the Empress Matilda into the madness that made her wish to send Henry here. Before she left, she swore to my father that she would do nothing until he told her we had a chance of winning our purpose. My father knows for a fact that messengers from Pembroke have gone to Matilda. He cannot prove this nor, unfortunately, bring it to Henry's attention. No messenger of ours has been permitted nigh Henry. We do not know whether our letters reach the boy at all, and we dare not trust certain things to writing."
"But what could Pembroke have said to the empress that should make her void her promise to your father?"
"Probably Pembroke told her that he would lend Henry support and perhaps even that you would too, since you were contracted to his gir
l. Do not trouble to protest, Radnor, these are my guesses. What is certain is that my father has finally determined to send Henry no help. How bitter a draught for both to drink, you may imagine, but a rebellion now is hopeless. We cannot overcome Stephen at this time. Nevertheless, some profit may be had of Henry's coming. Since few will know how little money or support Henry has, it may be possible to wring from the king another affirmation of an Angevin succession. That will be your work, Radnor."
"No! I do not like this lying and crawling about. I will speak out in council for it, if you desire, but I will not cozen Stephen."
"Who likes it? Because of that creature, neither man nor king, my father and brother must pretend not to speak to me, my erstwhile friends turn faces of ice in my direction. Will I die without a smile from all whom I hold dear? Without a look or a word of sympathy from the men with whom I have shed so much blood, for whom I have humbled my pride? You are the only one left. I told you nothing of what my father and I had planned."
"I know your constancy, Philip. I could not doubt you. I knew that if you swore to Stephen and took money from him it was by your father's bidding because he needed you in court. But William is already there. Surely he may serve your father's purposes alone. This lies too heavy on your heart. By the ten fingers of Christ, I will not have it. Everyone shall be told. No gain can be worth your unhappiness at such a time."
"Do not be foolish. It is only the weakness speaking. I have not done all this to throw it away for a look or a smile. The barons must believe that Stephen has paid my price and I am his man. William is known to be my father's spy and is suffered because they cannot trap him. I am taken at face value, and I have some influence among the barons. In truth, I do not spy. What they tell me goes no farther and I use my weight only to keep the peace. Just now, war is no answer; we cannot win and must not fight. This is why I cannot broach the matter of Henry's succession myself. There are still doubts. To show myself interested in his cause would raise so much suspicion as to make these last months' labors worthless."
"Is there no one else?"
"Who else could there be? Those to whom Stephen listens have joy of him. Why should they not? Their people lie still without even a groan. What need have they of succor from a king? We who fight for the peace of the kingdom, he will not attend to because we urge him to be strong or to yield to someone in the true line who is strong. Why do we sweat and moil and toil and bleed?" Philip cried with sudden passion. "We should lay down our arms and let the Welsh and the Scots flood across on them. Let them cry in vain to that—that image of a man." He stopped suddenly and began to cough.
"For heaven's sake, Philip, do not put yourself into a passion." Radnor bent over and lifted him to a sitting position so that he could catch his breath. "I will do anything you like, only be calm. Philip, I cannot bear it. I care nothing for all this. Your father must be suffering the torments of the damned, knowing you so sick, and unable to be near you. I will do your part too. I will do anything. Go home. If you have rest and the heart and mind at peace, mayhap your health …" His voice died.
Philip shrugged. "How could I be at rest and leave the task undone? Do you not know me better than that? My father loves me, yes, and suffers, but he would be the first to say my work must be finished before I lay down my tools. Sometimes" —a faint, wry smile pulled at Philip's lips— "I think you will never make a successful man of affairs, Radnor. You are too soft. You can never permit those you love to do what you would do yourself without question. Peace," he continued sharply as Cain was about to reply, "you have been here too long already. Kiss me and go. God go with you."
At the entrance to the great hall, a mass of noble retainers, but not of Radnor's generation and in much awe of him, fell back to clear a path. Gaunt, at the side of the room, was attracted by their movement and looked up from making a point to Leicester with clenched fist. "Ah, here is my son and he can probably tell us. Cain, come here. What is Walter of Hereford up to now? I saw you in close talk with his brother."
"I do not know. Hereford did not mention Walter to me. He knows that his brother and I do not—agree." Radnor spoke dully. He did not care two pins what Walter of Hereford was doing.
"You have been weeping. You have been to see Philip of Gloucester, hey?" Gaunt said in his hard voice. "It is a shame he will not last this half year."
"What joy it gives you to unman me before company, I do not know, but tonight I will not bear it. I have borne enough. Make what excuses for me you can or will—make none at all—I care not. I am going to bed."
Cain had turned a countenance completely distorted by rage and pain on his father. Leicester, startled, stepped back out of the reach of Radnor's working hands, although he was no coward.
Gaunt looked at Leicester after Radnor had passed between them almost at a run, with the blankest astonishment. He closed his mouth, which had been hanging slightly open displaying his broken and missing teeth.
"Now what maggot is in that boy's brain? I did but say I was sorry his friend, and mine too if it comes to that, was so near death. What is there in that to enrage him? If ever a man was cursed with an ugly-tempered devil for a son, I am he."
"He was fostered there," Leicester replied with ponderous gravity. "It may be that the bond between them is close. Mayhap the wound of seeing Philip is still green. A man may flinch, even under the kindly hand, when a green wound is handled."
Gaunt did not reply to that, but a look that Leicester, no fool in spite of his heavy appearance and slow ways, would have put down to surprise and an angry chagrin had it not seemed unreasonable, came into Gaunt's face. He had no time to consider why a father should so little understand his son, however, because Shrewsbury and Pembroke had hurried over to ask about the cause of the excitement and his thoughts were taken up with further surprise at the reasons Gaunt assigned to Radnor's hasty departure. Why any man should wish to display his son as evil-tempered to the point of madness was more puzzling than why he misunderstood him. There was some point in it though, Leicester soon realized, for the more Gaunt spoke of Radnor's unreasonable vindictiveness the more thoughtful the expressions he could read on the faces of the listeners.
Meanwhile, Radnor stopped the first maidservant he found and ordered her to tell her mistress to make up his bed. He spoke with such ferociousness that the girl was nearly-incoherent when she found Edwina. Once the message became plain, other women servants were hurried off to fulfill the order. Poor Alison, Leah's personal maid, crept into a comer and sat trembling. Her fears were not all for herself, although she was one of the servants who would accompany Leah; she was also terrified of what awaited her little mistress for she was fond of her. To be bedded with that distorted face, those hard, angry eyes, that harsh voice … Alison bitterly regretted ever having envied Leah her high station.
Chapter 6
Edwina looked down on the restless sleep of her daughter's future husband with close attention. If her life had depended upon it, she could not see anything in that face or body to tempt even the ignorant and sheltered girl that Leah was. True, Leah had seen few men, so few that Edwina had feared, fed as the girl was on romantic tales, that she could not be brought to accept any real man with complaisance. There could be no doubt that she had accepted Radnor, however, more than accepted him. Edwina leaned over and touched the man gently.
"You must wake now, Lord Radnor."
"Good God!" He started upright and saw the sun blazing outside an arrow slit. "Am I late? I have slept the day through."
"Not quite, and I must suppose you needed the sleep sorely." He had a gentle way with him in spite of his appearance. It was a shame that he should be slaughtered like a sheep. "Your bath is ready and the barber waits. Here are your wedding garments."
Radnor's gaze followed the direction of her gesture. "Nay, madam, your housekeeping is at last at fault, for you have confused some other man's clothes with mine. I have nothing like that."
"The clothes are yours, my lord. More, pe
rhaps, than any others. Those are my daughter's wedding gift to you. The thought was hers, and every stitch was set by her hand alone."
Frozen by the antagonism in his mother-by-marriage's eyes, Radnor made no acknowledgment of her information other than a low grunt and an invitation to her to leave so that he could bathe in peace. When she was gone, however, he went over to touch the velvet gently. It smelled of lavender and the odor brought with it a flood of passion and a flood of fear.
Leah, who had been ready for hours, had no fear at all. In spite of her excitement, she had sat quietly so as not to disarrange the perfect folds of the green brocade bliaut, the sheer wimple which, floating down under a chaplet of silver flowers, concealed not a bit of her fresh face or her loose-flowing hair. Her cheeks were flushed by eagerness, her eyes, brightened by their color, flashed a green brilliant enough to match the gems in Radnor's necklet which circled her full young throat. To Radnor, waiting on the steps of the church, her appearance brought such an intensification of his emotions that he felt he would choke on his terror and his desire.
Whatever admonition or prayers the priest who came out on to the steps facing them offered on their behalf were lost on the bridal couple. Radnor filled his eyes with the features so nearly forgotten; Leah's pleasure became mixed with anxiety at her husband's appearance. Bound up in their own emotions, neither heard the end of the ceremony nor the priest's permission to the groom to kiss the bride, so that he had to repeat himself and drew a laugh from the crowd of witnesses. The touch of Leah's lips destroyed any hope Radnor had of controlling himself. Above all other needs his need to know whether he was still a man was paramount. He took his wife's hand into a painful grip.
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