"I must speak five words to you alone. Soon—now! Where can we go?"
Leah looked blindly around at the crowd surrounding them. She knew quite well that her mother had planned every instant of her wedding day. She was due in moments to be formally introduced to the guests and to receive their good wishes for she had been kept in partial seclusion. It seemed impossible to escape. Not only would her mother be furious if she upset the well-ordered plans but it would be rude to the guests. It never occurred to Leah to try to expostulate or explain this to Cain. Whatever her husband requested, she must try to perform. If he had bidden her move the keep singlehanded, she would have strained every muscle and nerve to obey him without regard to the insanity of the command. She quickened her step.
"I will go to remove my chaplet and braid my hair. I will tell my mother that the silver flowers hurt my head. Do you on a pretext follow me."
Easier to say than to do. When Leah murmured her excuse to her mother, Edwina did not even trouble to reply except for an angry shake of her head.
"Mother, please. I am so uncomfortable I can hardly speak."
"You were so eager to dress early. Now you must bear it. Stand here, they are coming."
With a low cry Leah wrenched herself free of her mother's grip. It did not matter what Edwina thought; it did not matter what the guests thought; her lord had looked across the room at her with what she took to be an impatient frown. In her own small closet she turned to greet him with a smile of success for a difficult deed well done.
There was no answering smile, no look even of recognition as he seized her and threw her roughly on the bed, no word of love or apology as he took her with a brutality only equaled by his fear and his need. Leah's agony was intense, but very brief; in a few short moments he was caught in the grip of his climax. Through her pain and her terror Leah heard him and dimly, through that pain and terror, she felt his need and his pleasure, his excuse for using her so roughly.
Now Cain lay like a log upon her. Leah dared not move, not even when, after a few minutes more, he rolled away and, turning his back, began to make himself decent. He glanced at her over his shoulder.
"Pull down your skirt, in God's name." His voice drew a whimper from Leah that no pain could wring. The sound made Cain turn on her sharply. "By Christ, you must not weep now. We must go down and make merry with our guests."
Obediently Leah swallowed her tears, but merriment or even comprehension was beyond her. She was so torn between her fear and her joy that she could hardly understand what was said to her during the hours of formal introductions to the guests in the hall below. Some thought her simple-minded, so vague were her replies to them; some merely assumed that she had a great distaste for the match. In either case, her youth and gentleness were so appealing, especially to the men and older women, that they were willing to treat her with sympathy.
When the formalities were finally completed the group separated as it usually did, the men gravitating together and the women forming small chattering groups. Little by little, as various women fingered her dress and commented upon her jewels, Leah recovered from her panic. She began to distinguish between the great ladies.
The Countess of Shrewsbury who had just come up to her was exceedingly handsome and dressed with great magnificence. Her bliaut was a soft coral velvet beaded with pearls over a pale beige tunic whose neck was also pearl-embroidered. Even her long blonde braids were intertwined with pearls. Leah grew a little dizzy as she tried to think what such a display would cost. She dropped her eyes, however, and curtsied deeply as Lady Shrewsbury addressed her.
"Lord Radnor is fortunate to find such a pretty face connected with so rich a dowry. Are the lands definitely settled upon you already?"
Leah blushed a little at the compliment, but she felt that so direct an inquiry into the financial arrangements of her marriage was tasteless; she felt no need to satisfy it. "I do not know, madam. I know nothing of the arrangements between my lord and my father."
"Heavens, you are truly an innocent. You must find out at once." Joan of Shrewsbury's eyes of a clear and fathomless blue dwelt mercilessly on the child before her. It mattered not a bit what Leah suffered if Radnor would suffer too, and she knew from experience that nothing could disgust him more than a mercenary woman. "Do you not even know the value of your bride price?"
"N-no." Leah dropped her eyes modestly as an imp entered her soul. "But I do know that my lord paid a great sum without complaint—after he had seen me. Before that, I heard, he was less willing."
"Then you hold him in the hollow of your hand?"
There was a hardness, a controlled hatred even, in the voice which asked the question that made Leah recoil mentally. What if Cain should hear of her boasting? Actually Leah had never even thought of what bride price Cain had paid. She had spoken merely to annoy Lady Shrewsbury and had accomplished her end better than she had intended.
"I did not say that, my lady."
"Oh, you are young and pretty, and Lord Radnor—" Lady Shrewsbury's eyes moved around the hall until they rested on Radnor “—is not so pretty any more." Her voice faltered a lime, and it seemed to Leah that that was not what she had intended to say. "For a while you may well hold him, but not for long. I knew him very well," Lady Shrewsbury continued, her eyes fixed upon Leah's with an expression that even the girl's innocence could not mistake, "both before and after he was so marked. You would not, perhaps, believe it, but he was excessively handsome at one time, well worth knowing."
Blood rushed to Leah's face, and she pressed her hands into the folds of her bliaut to hide the fact that the fingers had curled into claws. As if a man's face was what a decent woman loved him for! She wanted to say it, to tell the beautiful whore—for so Leah immediately classed her—what she thought of her. Self-control, however, was Leah's strong suit, and she said nothing.
"For goodness' sake, Joan, what are you saying to the child to make her such a color?" The Countess of Leicester's kind voice saved Leah from the necessity of reply.
Irritation flashed in Lady Shrewsbury's cold eyes. "I was only telling her something about Lord Radnor that I thought she should know. I did not mean to embarrass her but to show her a good reason why she should settle her rights and allowances with him now, while he is still disposed to generosity."
Lady Leicester nodded. "Joan is right about that. It is good to have such matters plainly declared and settled in some definite way. Then you know what you may spend, and your husband is not continually accusing you of being extravagant. Just so long as you understand, my dear, that what your husband did before your marriage is none of your affair."
"Oh, no," Leah murmured, "I should never think of— Anyhow, I should not know if he did not tell me."
"You will find plenty of other people to tell you things," Lady Leicester replied dryly. "Some of them might even be true. Nonetheless, it is wisest not to hear, not to understand, or, if such things are forced upon you, to have a very poor memory. Do you expect to live at Painscastle?"
"I believe so, madam, but I shall live, of course, where my lord bids."
"That sounds very nice," Joan of Shrewsbury interjected, "but if I were you I would find out which was my dower castle, get on terms with the castellan, and put it in order. You might not find it convenient to continue to live with a man of such uncertain disposition as Lord Radnor."
"Now, Joan, is that the sort of thing to say to the child when she has not been four hours married? Besides, I never found Radnor to be hasty of temper unless his father was tormenting him."
Leah dropped her eyes, which had been moving anxiously from face to face. She had seen the Earl of Gaunt bait his son. Perhaps it would not be pleasant to live at Painscastle between two angry men. She felt a faint chill of fear at the thought. Certainly Cain had been rough and angry, with none of the tenderness and half-hidden amusement he had previously displayed with her. Was it because they were married now and he had her to do with as he pleased? Be it so or not, she
thought, a tremendous inner pride welling up to stiffen her, no one would ever know. For good or for ill, her lord was her good lord.
"Perhaps I know his lordship better than you do," Lady Shrewsbury was saying to Lady Leicester. "Now here is Lady William. She should be able to settle this for us. Lord Radnor was fostered with Robert of Gloucester and has always been close to them."
Lord Radnor, absorbed into the male group, was no less roughly handled. True, no one discussed his wife with him, but he had to stand a plethora of crude jokes on his appearance. Armed with the consciousness that his fears of impotence were groundless, he was able to take the humor of his companions in good part and he was grateful that while they teased him about becoming an uxorious husband they were forced to leave political problems alone.
Truly enough he was in no mood for serious thought of any kind and had deliberately surrounded himself with the younger men so that he was surprised to see Mortimer breaking into their group and bearing down upon him purposefully. Generally speaking, the Mortimers were even more aloof from national politics than the Gaunts. They sat grimly on their own lands, repelling advances or attacks, from either side, but more and more of late the turns of fortune in England affected the peace of Wales.
Mortimer was a valuable ally and could be a dangerous enemy. Radnor knew also that the family was a little put out because they had expected him to unite with them, so he smiled as pleasantly as he could and walked aside with the older man as he was urged to do.
"Is Chester about to start this accursed war over again?" Mortimer asked bluntly.
"I certainly hope not," Radnor replied.
"That is no answer. My people tell me that the other Marcher lords will call the young pretender from France and raise the Angevin standard."
Cain threw out a deprecating hand. "Certainly you may believe that I am not involved in such a scheme, nor is my father."
"I do not speak of you, although I am glad to hear that you do not hold with such a foolish idea. Who is to hold Fitz Richard's lands?"
"Are his lands forfeit?" Radnor parried.
Mortimer studied the face before him. "You are a liar—oh, not in your words but in your intentions. Do not trouble yourself to protest, for I do not care one way or another about these things except that I wish to know whether to build more keeps and arm more men."
"It can never hurt to be well armed against future trouble."
"Good, you have at least answered that question. Now to something to me more important. Will you give me the promise of your first-born for a son or daughter of my house? I can tell you right now what I am prepared to offer for a daughter or yield with one of my girls to your son."
“I would certainly desire the connection,” Radnor said readily.
To the details of the proposal he listened with great interest. In Wales, if not in the country as a whole, the Mortimers were nearly equal in power to the Gaunts, and to Radnor's mind they were good stock—Welsh and Norman like himself. He certainly wished to make a blood bond between Mortimer and himself, but he did not wish to commit his first-born because there might be even better opportunities. He fingered the scar near his mouth, irritated at the generosity of Mortimer's offer because it precluded objections on that score.
Finally he said, "You are most liberal, but I cannot close with such an offer now."
"You have something better in mind, Radnor? Are my girls not handsome enough, my boys not strong enough?"
The truth was that the girls were not handsome, but that was a matter of small account. Radnor laughed and disclaimed any other advances and any other intentions. Merely, he explained, a child might be long in coming and he did not want to bind Mortimer to a promise that he would not wish to keep.
"When I am willing to take the chance," Mortimer replied stubbornly, "why should you be concerned? Surely I am old enough to care properly for my own interests. I will give you my eldest son, if it is a daughter, and any girl you wish if it be a boy. If you do not wish me to be bound, give me the right of first refusal without oaths taken on either side."
Out of the comer of his eye, Cain saw the tables were ready set for dinner. In a moment they would be summoned to eat and he permitted himself to laugh heartily. "Well, that is something to make a note of. On my wedding day, I could have married off my eldest born—do you suspect me of dishonoring my wife before we were wed? Nay, Mortimer, I will not permit you to bind me by oaths or oathless. God send me sufficient children to fulfill all the offers and I assure you that you will not have to wait long before we are bound in blood. I am most willing, but this is no time for long or serious talk—there is the call to table."
They ate and ate. They ate in the hall, in pavilions on the field, in the kitchens and passages. Whole deer, boars stuffed with rabbits, swans stuffed with geese, and geese with chickens, the chickens with pheasants, and the pheasants with doves. Myriads of sauces, jellies, and condiments were provided to grace the meats that were less elaborately prepared. Mountains of bread disappeared as did barrel after barrel of wine and beer. In the open spaces between the tables jugglers and acrobats, clad in the pied red and yellow of their trade, performed their feats and their women danced, rattling tambourines.
When the roasts were removed to make place for the ragouts and stews, the jugglers withdrew and the musicians came forward so that the guests could dance. As the wine in the huge casks sank lower, the men grew more quarrelsome; fighting began to break out, personal and political grievances alike being aired and the language that was used showing the truth and directness lent by the wine. The soberer members of the party, including the bridegroom, leapt up to separate the combatants and calm them with the information that the matter could be fought out on the tourney field in the morning.
"Madam," Lord Radnor said to Edwina, "gather your ladies and let the bedding ceremony begin. If we do not rise from the tables soon and give men something else to think about, there will be blood shed in earnest."
Edwina made no protest although she cast an anguished glance at Leah who was toying absently with food she had not eaten. This thing, to her the greatest horror of all, had to be, and delay would change nothing. She collected the highest-born ladies with her eye and they gathered around Leah. The men's attention was immediately withdrawn from their quarrels; each tried to outdo the other in raucous applause and coarse jokes, and much advice decent and indecent followed the women out of the hall.
The bride was led to the tower room where Cain had slept, now furnished with a magnificent bed, Leah's parents' wedding gift to her. The ladies removed Leah's beautiful bliaut, her tunic, her shift, her shoes and stockings; they unbraided her hair and left her naked to await her bridegroom. Radnor, apparently eager and not hiding it, arrived with his guard of honor so quickly that the women could not straighten out her clothing, and in his disrobing ceremony and the accompanying jests the garments were forgotten.
To Leah it seemed as if the crowd of noisy, joking people would never leave. She was frightened by the knowledge that their departure would herald a resumption of her painful experience of the forenoon, but she was more distressed by the appreciative glances of the men and by the pain and fear imperfectly concealed in her mother's eyes. Radnor was proving recalcitrant. He had stripped willingly enough down to his chausses and shoes, but these he refused to remove. This naturally enough brought forth a hail of chaff. All would have passed off easily enough, however, for every man there knew of his lameness and his reluctance to expose it, had not Gaunt interfered. Hereford was proposing some particularly indelicate reasons for Radnor's shyness when the earl's harsh voice cut across the merriment.
"Let him be. He has, in truth, something to conceal."
Radnor's face whitened; Hereford's voice was suspended mid-jest. A few uneasy glances passed from eye to eye in the unpleasant silence. Philip of Gloucester, who had been leaning breathlessly against the wall after making the climb up the stairs, came forward to kiss his friend defensively. Hereford followe
d. Chester embraced his godson's shoulders. Nothing could cover the suspicion renewed in all minds, however, and the spontaneity was gone so that only a few moments later the room was clear.
Afraid to meet Leah's eyes, Cain sat down on the bed with his back to her to remove the rest of his clothes. He dallied, unwinding his cross-garters slowly and allowing his eyes to wander aimlessly about the room. They fell on Leah's shift, passed, suddenly returned. The tunic and shift were stained with blood.
"What? Leah, how did you get blood all over your clothes?" No answer, but the bed shook as her shudder communicated itself to him through the mattresses. He turned to look at her. "Why do you fear me?" he questioned furiously.
He associated her fear with his father's remark which could, indeed, have been taken as acknowledgment that he was a demon. The matter of the bloodstained shift was insignificant in comparison and had already slipped from his mind.
Leah shrank from him slightly and put up her hands as if to hold him off. "I fear because you hurt me." She heard the tone of reproach and resentment in her own voice and was appalled. That was no way to speak to a husband; he would be furious with her.
Cain did not even notice. His only emotion was a wave of relief that she was not afraid he was a supernatural monster.
"I did not mean to hurt you," he said softly, "I did with you as a man does with a woman."
His voice was uncertain. His experience had not been with innocent, virginal women. Radnor frowned thoughtfully at his wife. Leah was terrified by that frown. It would be bad for her indeed if she had made him angry so early in their marriage. The fear showed in her face and in her trembling voice as she spoke to him.
"Come, my lord, lie down. Let me darken the room."
He lay beside her as bidden, remembering that the fear in her eyes now was the same as the look she had given him earlier and that both glances were akin to the way the women whom he seized in the fields regarded him. He heard again the whimper she had given when he left her. Was this the same then? Had he lied to himself about her warmth, about her affection for him? His pleasure he had had, but it was bitter in his mouth as was the frightened stillness of the girl who lay beside him.
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