Bond of Blood (44 page)

"Wait!" he cried again.

"For what? Time will not change what is there."

Cain shoved his left hand hard against his mouth and bit it. Leah unlaced the boot and pulled it off together with the foot of the chausses. For a moment she stood staring, her body visibly shaken with uncontrollable shudders, and the great Lord Radnor whimpered like a hurt animal.

"Why did you frighten me like that?" Leah asked, indignation sharpening her voice. "Before God, you had me convinced that you were something unclean. What is there that distresses you so much in a twisted foot? I warrant you, it is no pretty sight—more especially all uncared for as you leave it—but you have borne it for thirty years. What need to make such a to-do and fright me half to death?" She was shaking and angry with relief and her voice rose to a shrewish scold. "What should I see but a crippled foot? Have you never looked at it in all these years?"

Slowly Lord Radnor took his hand from his mouth and his wife saw the blood on his lips. "God bless me," she cried, "if I ever saw such a man," and came back quickly towards the head of the bed. "You have bitten through your one good hand. You needed that—a few more festering sores." She began to cry and kiss him, pressing his head into her breast. "My love, what did you fear? Could you believe I would love you less if I saw you were not perfect?"

She felt the tremulous sigh of relief and then the total relaxation that meant unconsciousness. What pain and loss of blood had no power to do to Lord Radnor, this shock of release had accomplished—he fainted. Leah hung over him, sobbing softly and kissing his unresponsive lips.

"Is he dead?"

The harsh voice drew a terrified gasp from Leah, but she pulled her little knife from its sheath as she turned to face it. "Oh," she cried, dropping the pathetic weapon, "thank God it is you, my lord. I thought at first it was
my
father. No, he is not dead, but the fever is beginning and—"

"I will not trouble you with my presence, then," Gaunt said, but he came to the bed and stood looking down at his son.

He had been a fool to come, but at least there were some profits. Certainly his daughter-by-marriage was faithful. He need no longer wonder whether Cain had escaped sword and lance only to meet a slit throat in his own bed or poison in his food. Further, he could now deal with Pembroke in his own way, as soon as he could find him. And last, but not least, neither Maud nor Stephen would profit even a little by laying Cain low. It would be a great pleasure to see their faces in the council tomorrow—a great pleasure.

Chapter 18

For the next week time merged into a nothingness. Radnor's wounds festered, and day after day he raved with fever. Leah tended him until she dropped and then Giles took his turn. They fed him by force, washed his wounds by force, and cleaned his body by force. Once a day, busy as he was with political matters, Gaunt would come to stare with an impassive face at his son, but he offered neither help nor advice to his daughter-by-marriage, asked no questions, and never stayed long.

On the sixth day, Leah noted that dry brownish crusts were forming at the edges of the raw flesh instead of the pasty greenish yellow exudate, and that day when her husband had sunken into an exhausted stupor, she knelt to pray again. The prayers of the past week had been faint and doubting, if unceasing, but the thanks were full and fervent. That crust, plus the paling of the angry red ring around the wounds, was the sign of true healing.

The seventh day was very quiet. Giles and Leah, close comrades now, spent most of the time just staring at each other, too tired to be grateful. Sir Harry, who had borne all the burden of receiving solicitous visitors and messages, sending replies, sending thanks for gifts, and answering inquiries, paced unceasingly across the short end of the room struggling with the conflicts brought to a head by the knowledge that his lord would definitely recover. So much contact with Leah had changed a vague longing to a burning desire, and time and again, Sir Harry found himself insanely envying Radnor's delirious ravings because he was attended by Leah.

The morning passed, and dinner was brought up. The three sat down together, as had become the custom. Giles ate out of habit; Beaufort forced himself to chew and swallow; Leah pushed food about, mashed it idly into her bread, and finally left it. She went again, for the twentieth time, to look at her husband, and Sir Harry turned to Giles.

"She eats nothing."

"She is tired."

"So are you, and you eat."

"I am older and more used to being tired." Giles frowned and then spoke more softly than was his habit. "You should not watch so much nor care so much what she does."

Leah went to sit at her embroidery, but her hand lay still on the frame before her. The day wore slowly on. When the light began to fade, Lord Radnor shifted restlessly. Leah rose slowly from her chair, pushing herself out of it with her hands.

"Where do you go, madam?"

"To see if I must change the bedding, Giles. It
is about his time."

"I will go. You are weary."

"And you are not? No, it makes you sick." She smiled wanly. "Do not deny it, I know it is so. How strange that is, that you should be able to rip out a man's bowels without a thought and yet be distressed for something so much less."

Cain's eyes were open, but Leah paid no attention for they often were. Before she could touch him, however, he smiled.

"Leah?"

"Yes, my love, it is Leah. Are you yourself again?"

"I think so. Have I been much trouble?"

"No, no. You were always good and gentle."

Giles guffawed, coming quickly to the bedside. "Gentle as a lamb, you were, my lord. That is how come my eye is black and my face all swollen. You kissed me yester eve."

"Good God!"

"Ay, my lord. I wish you would arrange in the future when you are ill to abate some of your strength the while."

"But surely I could not have … I do not feel able to lift my hands."

"You were raving in a fever, sweetheart," Leah put in gently. "Giles, this is no time to tease him."

"Why not? If I know my lord aright, by tomorrow you will wish he were back in a delirium. A more pettish and unreasonable patient I have good cause not to wish to know. How now, madam, it was but a jest. Do not weep."

"Leah, do not cry. For God's sake, Giles—"

"Nay, my lady, he will be quiet with you, I am sure. You will have no more to bear from him."

"I do not weep for that," Leah said, sniffing and laughing. "I am only so happy, and perhaps a little tired."

"'A little tired' only!" Giles exclaimed, casting a warning glance at his master, for what he had said about Cain as a patient was perfectly true and the old man wished to spare the girl if he could.

"Giles, pray do not," Leah pleaded, afraid that Cain would send her away to rest. "Come, love, let me put these pillows behind you so that you can eat."

"You cannot lift me, Leah," Radnor said, misunderstanding Giles" expression.

The master-of-arms tried again. "Oh no, eh? And who do you think has been lifting you, and shifting you, and wiping you—"

"Giles!"

"Black elves?" Giles concluded, ignoring Leah's interjection.

She could not help laughing. "Giles, go tell the page to bring up some broth and let your master be."

"I am not hungry."

"Ay," now Giles had the chance to make his point. "He begins already. When you ask him to eat, he is not hungry. When you ask him to sleep, he will play chess, or read a book, or … Drunk or sick, he is the same, contrary."

Now Cain took the hint and smiled. "Very well, I will try."

When candles were brought to the bedside so that Leah could see what she was doing, Giles' point was brought home even more sharply. Leah looked twenty years older; her hair was dull, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips and cheeks white, and she was not the only sufferer. Giles had made no light jest of his swollen face, but that was nothing. Cain could see his master-of-arms' hands tremble and his shoulders drooped with a weariness beyond what even his iron body could bear. This was no day or two that he had been helpless, Radnor realized.

"How long have I been like this?"

"This is the end of the seventh day," Giles replied.

"Good Lord." All thought of Giles' and Leah's conditions disappeared in Cain's anxiety about the political situation.

"Cain," Leah said, "eat, do not talk."

He ignored her. "In God's name, Giles, what has happened? Is Hereford taken? Chester? What word about Pembroke?"

"Gently, my lord. You need trouble yourself about nothing. Your father is here."

"My father?" Cain half lifted himself off the pillows and Leah pushed him back. "But why?"

"Being in no sense related to a soothsayer, I do not know. He is here, and you need trouble your head no more." Usually that would have been true, but Cain and his father had differed about what they were willing to do for Chester and Hereford, and the trouble only deepened on Radnor's face. "Now you eat, my lord," Giles said soothingly. "I will give you the news, but if you fret yourself, your lady will put me out, and I will not blame her. First, Hereford is perfectly safe, and, if you want my opinion, which doubtless you do not, he is a damned nuisance. Everything went at council as you could have desired, and every lady living in wide bounds between London and a day's ride is showing red eyes and bruises. In truth, I wish he would go out of town. He has been here every day but yesterday and today, clamoring for admittance and driving Beaufort wild with the craziest remedies. Sometimes I think that one's head is bolted on a little wrong."

Cain spluttered over a mouthful. "But his right arm is bolted on most correctly or perhaps I had not been here this day. Good God, I never asked about Beaufort. Assuredly if he had not so bedevilled those footmen they would have dragged me out. If any man saved my life, it is he. I hope—"

"Perfectly well. He has been helping to tend you, but something seems to weigh on his spirits."

"Giles." Leah had no idea what Giles was talking about, but she felt that no bad news that could be kept from Cain should be given him, and the note of warning in her voice was unmistakable.

Radnor's eyes moved uneasily from one face to another. "You will fret me more by making me think that you hold back something than by telling it."

Giles was furious with himself. This was scarcely the time for warnings about what most likely was harmless. "I hold back nothing of importance. Besides, if I told you nothing at all, it would make no difference. I speak only to spare you from worrying yourself into a fever again. In your state, what can you do?"

"I can think," Radnor replied irritably.

"An idea will come out of you now like a chick can breed from an addled egg. Eat. My lady will cast me out. Of Pembroke there is no news at all. His written deposition against Chester was read at council, but he himself did not appear. The silence is deafening. Philip of Gloucester was here yesterday—"

"How is he?" Cain asked quickly and anxiously.

Giles met his master's eyes squarely. "What do you want me to say? He was able to come. He told Beaufort that there was still no news of Pembroke. No one even knows whether he be alive or dead. There is no word, no sign, nothing. His men are loose in the town, but they have not seen him since he entered the White Tower. They are fed and quartered by the king, as if Pembroke is his guest, but—"

There was no sense in worrying over what could not be helped. Cain glanced at Leah to see if she was worried, but she was silent, her eyes stubbornly downcast. She had a violent desire to say that she wished Pembroke were dead, but the fear that to rail against her father would appear as disloyalty in Cain's eyes sealed her lips. Cain was not troubled by her silence. He could no longer doubt her in any way. Never had any man been more at a woman's mercy, and never had any woman striven so to save him. He was not troubled about Pembroke himself at the moment either; he was sure that Pembroke was alive and equally sure that no harm would come to him because Maud needed him for a scapegoat. Somehow Pembroke would have to be wrested from her hands, but nothing could be done just yet.

"Chester?"

Giles hesitated, then said flatly, "In prison. Peverel of Nottingham holds him, but none knows where."

Cain licked his lips and turned his head away from another spoonful. She put down the spoon and bowl. "That is enough for now. Let me help you lie down, my lord. Giles, go and get some sleep, his lordship must sleep too."

"I am not sleepy," Radnor said fretfully. "I am not a child to be told when to wake and when to sleep. Why should either of you watch me anyway? I will know when I am tired and speak no more. Why should I sleep when I am not sleepy?"

"Now, my lord," Giles began.

"Giles," Leah said peremptorily, "do not argue with him. Do not speak to him at all. I beg you, take those candles to the end of the room and go down."

"Damn you, Leah!" Radnor tried to shout, but his voice came out as a cracked whisper, shaking with fatigue. "You are too much in the habit of giving orders. Do not do so to my servants in my presence."

Leah burst into tears. Giles cast one thoroughly angry glance at his master, folded his lips tightly together with unaccustomed restraint, and went.

"Leah, Leah, forgive me. I am sorry. Do not weep. I will sleep I will do whatever you like."

"Yes, my sweet lord, I know you will. Do not mind me. I am only a little tired, so tears come easily. Indeed, if you cannot sleep, I will read to you. Philip was kind enough to find a book and sent it to amuse you while you mended. He knows your ways."

"No, I will not have you read to me. You must rest yourself. Are there no servants to sit up?" Cain's voice rose with weak irritability. "Can we not afford a leech that my wife and my master-of-arms must attend me like slaveys?"

Thus it went, from irritation to apology to complaint. Nonetheless Lord Radnor gained strength with amazing rapidity and his wounds healed well. Only his ribs remained sore, and that dull ache rubbed his temper more than the first agonies he had endured. Leah bore the brunt of this behavior because with the others he was totally outrageous. She, at least, had some weapons to use against him, and if she could not quiet him with kisses she could always marshal up her tears.