Bond of Blood

by Roberta Gellis

  "I could not find a goblet in the dark, but if this does not please you, there are other meats."

  The trembling voice made Cain more ashamed of his earlier severity. "Anything will do," he said gently.

  Leah slipped off her gown and lay down again, the kindness of his tone already soothing her terror. Radnor began to eat slowly, cracking the bones of a wing. He turned his body to glance at Leah sidelong; her face had no particular expression, but her eyelids were still a little reddened.

  "I thank you," he said even more softly. "You are very kind."

  "It was nothing."

  Cain found his mouthful unaccountably hard to swallow. "I am sorry if I was sharp. To trouble a man with talk after he has made love is no wise thing. That is a time for sleeping." So that was why he was angry! The logical explanation lifted Leah's spirits. "If you do not correct me, my lord, I cannot know. I will not do so again."

  "You are a good girl, Leah, and most obedient to me. I wish … I have news for you, and not good news. I must go into Wales again." Surprisingly she made no answer, and new doubt tore at Cain. "Your father has aroused my own men against me," he added softly, wanting to hurt her, wanting to see her fear.

  It was apparent even in the candlelight that she had paled. "Is that true, my lord?"

  "Is it like that I would tell such a lie?" Would she deny complicity in her father's schemes or beg him not to go?

  Leah lay mute, paralyzed. She did not dare speak out against her father. If she had no loyalty to her father, her husband would think she could have no loyalty to any man. Cain could not know how cruel Pembroke was to her, and even if he knew, he would not accept that as an excuse for disloyalty. Cain himself would expect his wife to be loyal even if he were cruel to her. Tears stung Leah's eyes, but she forced them back. She did not even dare cling to Cain and beg him not to leave her. He had told her that her tears unmanned him; her mother had told her that clinging to a man disgusted him.

  "You do not seem to care," Cain said in a deceptively gentle voice.

  "II hope it is some mistake," Leah faltered, "but you know all things best and you must do what is right."

  "And what will you do when I am gone?"

  Leah could master her sobs, but now the tears could be held back no longer. "I will do as you bid me do, my lord."

  "Even if I bid you go to Painscastle alone and bide my coming there?"

  She had been staring straight ahead, but now she faced him, the tears drying on her cheeks. "Yes, my lord. Oh yes. Even if you bid me come with you to Wales, I would come gladly."

  Life had come back into her voice. Cain bit his lip in an agony of indecision. She sounded as if she cared nothing for him in one moment, yet in the next she wept and offered to endure the miseries of camp and dangers of war to be with him. It could be that Philip was right, that Pembroke had told Leah to stay with her husband at all times and bind him to her will.

  "I cannot take a woman to battle with me; I must leave at dawn tomorrow. You could not be ready and, even if you could, the forests of Wales are no place for a frail girl."

  "You will not leave me here, my lord! Pray, pray, do not!"

  "No," Cain said coldly. "If I have not returned before my father leaves this place, he will take you with him and set you safe at Painscastle so that you may begin your work as a wife."

  Now would come the flood of tears, the hysterical protests. Leah must know she could be no use to her father shut up in Painscastle alone. But there was no protest. Leah merely sighed as if some weight of fear had been taken from her. Perhaps she was not false; perhaps she was only afraid of Pembroke and wished to be out of his power. It was a comforting thought, and Cain clung to it.

  The thought made it possible for him to return warmly Leah’s farewell embraces in the dawn and to reply encouragingly to her trembling pleas that he care well for himself. He would try to believe her innocent until she proved she was Pembroke's ally or dupe.

  Lord Radnor pulled at the lacings of his mail hood. He wished that he were lying with his head in Leah's lap, and his eyes had started to cloud when a peculiar sound snapped his mind into the present. An owl was calling. An owl? At midmorning? Cain pulled his horse to the side and motioned the men following him to proceed. The troop continued past him until Giles was in sight. Directly in front of the master-of-arms, where he could watch them, rode two men who were dressed in ragged clothing and completely unarmed. Radnor pulled his horse into line just in front of them and, as soon as he came to a slightly open stretch, gestured them forward. He addressed them in Welsh, because they spoke no French or English.

  "Bring me the man who hooted like an owl, and the partner to whom he cried. Do not lose yourselves. Remember that your wives and children are hostage to me. If there are more than two in the wood, I wish to know it."

  Pwyll and Cei slipped from their horses, which were only moving at a slow walk because the troop in front had reached a section of heavy undergrowth. They did not even trouble to look their hate at Radnor because he would not care. All he cared about was that they would follow his orders faithfully, and that they would surely do, for Lord Radnor had proved in the past that he could be perfectly merciless to hostages. Pwyll handed a lead rein to the trooper ahead of him and Cei attached his lead rein to the saddle loop of the preceding horse. Then they moved quietly into the underbrush, the sounds of their passing completely concealed by the heavy tread of the horses. Lord Radnor had fallen back farther now and, first pointing to his ear, motioned Giles ahead to lead the men. Usually the Welsh attacked from the rear, trying to pick off a man at a time or to throw the entire group into confusion, but sometimes they would make a direct frontal attack and Radnor wanted a responsible man at the head of the column.

  Cain pulled his helmet around from his back where it hung from a thong, and put it on, pulling down the strip of mail that made a double shield for his neck over the mail hood. In spite of this protection, the hair on his nape prickled and his breath came a little short. He knew perfectly well that the situation was not good; his men were forced by the vegetation to travel in single file, which left them singularly open to attack.

  What would be best was to look for open ground and form into a defensive position, but what if there were no enemies but the watcher and the man to whom the signal was given? How foolish they would look, and what a tale to be carried to the Welsh encampments—that the Marcher lords were frightened of one Welshman or even less, an owl's hoot. Besides, Radnor could feel his fingers itch to grip the hilt of his sword. He almost willed the flight of the first arrow that would signal the beginning of the fight.

  There was, however, no flight of arrows, and Radnor Castle was reached without further incident. In view of what had occurred in the forest, Lord Radnor stopped at the castle. They had nothing to tell; there were rumors, the people were restless, but when was it not so? Sir Robert, the castellan, said that Owen of Wells was a young fool and afraid of his own shadow. Lord Radnor blandly agreed with Sir Robert and, saying he wished to empty his bladder, called Giles aside.

  "Choose now a faithful man and send him post-haste to my father. One message he will carry in his purse, another in his head. For his head, he is to tell my father to come to Radnor Keep without delay. If men are available, he should bring them, otherwise his own guard will be sufficient, I believe, but haste is most necessary."

  Giles nodded. "Something is rotten at the top of this heap of rock. The bottom is sound enough. I have been idly talking here and there, and I warrant my ears that the men know nothing. Do we stay until the Earl comes, or go, my lord?"

  "We must go to Owen at Penybont. He is not a man to call me from my own wedding lightly. Also, send Cedric and someone else out to watch and stop the Welshmen. It will be better to question them away from here because doubtless the trapped birds will not sing well if Sir Robert be their trainer. I do not like it any way it is turned, for once out of the gates who knows whether we will come in so easily again?"

 
Giles turned his head and spat; Radnor shrugged in agreement. He felt slightly sick at what he had discovered because he would have sworn, until that day, that the men who governed the Gaunt strongholds would be faithful. What could have been offered the castellan of Radnor to make him plot treason was a puzzle. If he was fortunate, Cain thought, he would soon know, and if he was not, he would care nothing about any earthly matter. He paused on his way to the hall, repressing a faint qualm. Whatever he had expected, rebellion in his own keeps was a complete surprise to him. Possibly he was not meant to return; possibly he was accursed, as his father had told him when he was a child, and the Gaunt line would end with him.

  With a slight bitter laugh, Lord Radnor shook off both qualm and anxiety. He strode purposefully into the hall and ordered that men and horses be fed and a meal prepared early for himself. He queried Sir Robert about supplies and made a note of what was needed. Innocently, he told the castellan that he was sending a man to arrange that the supplies be forwarded and that his father had been warned to expect a messenger the following day. Displaying open indifference to Sir Robert's seeing what he did, Cain wrote the letter in the hall with materials supplied by the castle scribe. As he poured the hot wax and pressed his seal into it, he added fretfully that in these disturbed times his work was doubled because his father would accept as genuine no message except one in his own hand. Finally he sat down to eat and drink, apparently quite relaxed and ready to make small talk about his marriage. He spoke of the youth of his bride, regretting that Lady Robert was so far removed from Painscastle that it would be impossible for her to advise and help his Leah. There was no awareness of tension in his eyes as he watched Sir Robert playing nervously with the poniard that hung around his neck. He even commented softly on the beauty of the worked gold chain while the thought crossed his mind that, one way or another, it would very soon be his.

  Giles came in shortly to say that the men were ready and the horses rested. Lord Radnor nodded and rose to his feet with a sigh. He thanked the castellan and his wife for their hospitality.

  "It seems that I never become comfortable but I must leave that place forthwith. Well, well, such is my life. Since there seems no need, I should not be back for a month or more, perhaps not at all. If my father passes this way because he must go to Shrewsbury, he may stay a night. Please be so kind as to entertain him and take the cost from my share of the manor yield. I expect to be at Penybont for a day or two to calm Owen, so if you hear anything of interest or need me, a rider may find me there."

  Sir Robert saw them down to their horses and wished them Godspeed politely enough. He hoped his relief did not show in his face. Curse Pembroke for not holding Lord Radnor as he said he would until Penybont had been taken and Lord Radnor could be entrapped. Now he would have to accept Gaunt's visit too because he really would need the supplies the Earl would bring. Young fool, he thought, arrogant young fool, talking and talking in that soft voice of his instead of questioning and listening. Had he guessed, he might have saved his neck. He laughed, but the laugh turned sour. Gaunt would not be so easy to fool.

  There was a bitter taste in Sir Robert's mouth. He had been an honorable man all his life, faithful to his trust, and first Gaunt and then Lord Radnor, when he came of age, had been good masters. Now he was getting old, his fighting days were nearing their end, and he knew that Lord Radnor did not like his son and would not promise to pass the possession of the keep into his hands.

  Perhaps his son was not perfect, but if he did not become castellan of Radnor Keep, there would be no provision at all for his own old age. Pembroke had promised Sir Robert that when Lord Radnor was dead he could hold the keep and its demesne lands as a true vassal. Then his son would inherit the keep by right; no man could put him off the land. Sir Robert watched the column of men as they were gradually hidden by trees at a bend in the track. He wanted Radnor Keep more than he wanted his life, but it was bitter to purchase it at the price of dishonor.

  About one quarter of a mile past the bend in the road where trees shielded the view from the castle, Lord Radnor halted his troop again. He beckoned Harry Beaufort to follow and the two men made for the edge of the woods. Here five others waited their coming: Pwyll and Cei, who had been ordered to catch the caller in the forest; Cedric and Odo, who had been detailed to stop the Welshmen short of the castle; and one who was called a man only by courtesy, being in truth no more than a boy. Cain dismounted with his usual grimace of pain, but his expression was completely indifferent when he turned to his men.

  "Where is the other?"

  Pwyll shook his head. "We could not find him. There were signs, but they ended in a false trail."

  Lord Radnor's expression did not change, but something behind his eyes did. Even Odo, who did not know his master well and had never seen him close up in a cold rage, was frightened. Cedric hissed gently between his teeth; he had been long in Lord Radnor's service and could see what was coming, even if he could not understand what had been said.

  "A tracker who cannot see has blind children, Pwyll, and a tracker who cannot track has no need of feet, Cei" The men gazed back at him grey-faced, but they did not plead for mercy. There was no mercy in those black eyes just touched with red. "Stretch your bow, Cedric, and see that these useless dogs do not leave us. If they run, bring them down, but do not kill them; the sweet death that comes from the yard shaft is too good for such as these."

  The last statements were made in English so that Cedric could follow the command, but Cedric's action made clear to the others what was coming. The most horrible thing of all, Odo thought, was the unmoved expression and the gentle voice.

  "What is your name and your tribe?"

  The question was addressed in the same quiet tone to the prisoner. The child was trembling so that he could hardly speak, but he finally answered in a spate of words. He was from these parts, he told Lord Radnor, and it was true that he was watching the troop, but he had meant no harm. They had been told at the village that the lords would come no more into these parts and that the men from the west would destroy Radnor Castle. Others had come also and told them that it was true that the Norman lords would come no more, but that Radnor Castle would remain and they would pay only Radnor tax and no more lord's share. The village had doubted at first, then as the weeks passed the regular early ploughing, when the great lords usually came, and no one came, they had wondered whether to believe the men from the west or those from the castle. So the boys of the village had been set to watch to see if the men from the west would come. The boy would have continued his protestations of innocence, but Radnor silenced him with a gesture.

  "If you meant no harm, why did your companion run away? I think it might be well to lift your hide a little with the birch. No doubt you will sing another tune. You" Radnor switched to English and turned so suddenly upon Odo that the young man jumped "cut yourself a good pliable switch, strip off his rags, and lay to until I bid you stop."

  The boy flung himself on the ground at Radnor's feet. "Mercy lord, mercy. I speak the truth. There is no more. I do not know why Llwellyn ran away. He was afraid. I ran because I was afraid too. Ask me anything and I will tell you."

  Cain swallowed to still the fluttering in his stomach. How he hated it, the screams and the pleading, and how they drove him to greater and greater ferocity, as if to prove that he could bear it. He envied his father who seemed totally unmoved by the pain he inflicted. As for himself, although he had learned to control both expression and voice, the screaming of a tortured man brought him to the edge of hysteria. One inner voice cried "More", the other "Stop", and between the two Radnor himself was so racked apart that he often missed the right time to put the questions. He stepped back to allow Odo a freer swing and unconsciously set his jaw as if the birch were to fall on his own back.

  Cedric hissed softly through his teeth again. A glance had brought Odo's face clearly in view. The young man exhibited a greenish pallor that augured very ill with regard to his ability to ca
rry out his orders. Cedric's eyes did not waver again from his charges, but his mind was occupied with Odo. He was sorry he had chosen the lad for this little jaunt. He had wanted to harden him somewhat, but he had not expected that it would be Odo who had to lay on the birch. Cedric himself was used to it and considered it a mild form of persuasion. He was a free man and a mercenary and had served with other fighting groups; he had seen things which made flaying alive seem merciful.

  The birch cracked, the boy screamed, Odo swallowed his rising gorge and, in reaction against his own sickness and terror, struck harder and faster. Incoherently, over and over, the Welsh boy screamed that he could tell nothing more. Radnor, frozen in his own conflict, watched without expression. After a score or more strokes, the rod drew blood and Odo's resistance broke. With a gasp he abandoned the switch and ran for the bracken where he retched uncontrollably. At the cessation of the action, Radnor woke from his trance with a shock of rage. Even before Cedric could consider whether it was worth risking his neck to explain that Odo was on his first expedition, however, the rage passed. Odo's reaction was so akin to his own that Radnor could not help but understand and appreciate it.

  Sir Harry had indifferently turned his back on the entire proceeding. Now he turned swiftly back again to touch Cain's arm. "Look!"

  Radnor spun on his heels, his sword half out. "Llwellyn! For God's sweet sake, why did not the boy say it was you he was with—or was it you?"

  "It was."

  "I did say it was Llwellyn," the boy whimpered.

  "You little fool," Radnor snarled, "did you not consider it needful to say it was the Bard of Radnor? Is there only one Llwellyn in the Welsh woods? Never mind. You are lucky you came to no harm. A good beating is good pay for stupidity. But what in the name of heaven ails you, Llwellyn, to take to your heels? Surely you saw my blazon."