Castle of the Heart (28 page)

There came Kenelm to the great hall each
midday, sleek and well fed, his short black hair smooth and shiny,
easy laughter on his lips. And there was Blanche, dimpled and
bright-eyed, directing the serving girls with the trays of food.
They were both discreet, no sign of affection ever passed between
them before others, yet contentment lay upon Kenelm and Blanche for
all to see.

Meanwhile, in her place at the high table
Selene sat cold and withdrawn, Thomas, overly thin and grim of
mouth, beside her. And between them lay the suggestion of
half-slumbering passion that drew Thomas’s eyes to Selene’s
beautiful, indifferent face again and again, made him touch her
hand where it lay on the table, made everyone around them
uncomfortably aware of Thomas’s desire for her. Arianna wondered
how anyone could endure the pain in Thomas’s eyes, and wished she
could do something to help him.

No sooner was the harvest gathered in than
the storms began. Weeks of heavy rain and sleet, and an early
snowfall, put a temporary end to hunting and to Selene’s daily
rides.

“It’s just as well,” Meredith said when they
were snowed in just before Christmastide. “Selene won’t sit a horse
again until next summer is nearly done. Thomas won’t allow her to
ride.”

“She’s with child?” Arianna felt a cold chill
at the pit of her stomach, remembering how difficult had been
Selene’s last pregnancy, how dangerous her childbirth.

“Look at her,” Meredith replied, “pale, with
shadows under her eyes, and not eating in the mornings. I’m not
sure she realizes it yet, but yes, Selene is with child again.”

Selene refused to believe her own body’s
message. Gwenefer’s medicine, diluted, taken only every other day,
was long gone, but how could it happen so soon? So quickly her
appetite vanished, her breasts ached, her waistline thickened. And
Selene knew, she was absolutely certain, that she would die in
childbirth. It would be heaven’s punishment for the terrible things
she had done. She lived each day in terror, and under that pressure
her temper flared dangerously, as she searched for some outlet in
place of the confession she dared not make.

“You did this to me,” she raged at Thomas
shortly after the new year began. She could hide her pregnancy from
him no longer, and when he came to their bedchamber and put his
arms around her she drew back, hating the tenderness she saw in his
eyes, resenting his obvious delight at the renewed possibility of a
son. “Look at me. Are you pleased with yourself, my lord? Are you
proud of your manhood?”

“I am happy to know our love has had this
result,” he replied mildly, trying to placate her. “You should be,
too.”

“Do you expect me to be pleased that I’ll be
sick again for so many months, and swollen out of all recognition,
and then at the end of it have to face that terrible pain and very
likely die? I nearly died when Deirdre was born; it is a certainty
this time. And all for your lust.”

“I love you, Selene. I still love you in
spite of your bad temper,” he teased, trying to gentle her as
though she were a nervous colt, but she broke away from him, and
picked up a wooden cup that stood beside a pitcher of wine,
threatening to throw it at him.

“You will not touch me, my lord. Not until
long after this child is born. If then. If I live.” Her voice broke
in panic.

Thomas reached out and caught her wrist, took
the cup out of her hand and set it down again. He kept tight hold
on her wrist, drawing her closer to him, all gentleness gone from
his manner.

“I am your ruler, madame. You will do as I
say at all times.” At the cool anger in Thomas’s voice, defiance
flamed brighter in Selene’s green eyes, and her own voice dripped
contempt for her husband and his needs.

“Will you deliberately harm your unborn
child, my lord? If you lay with me, and I miscarry, it will be your
fault. Go and find yourself a serving maid.”

She would not listen to anything he might
say, and she struggled, weeping, when he tried to embrace her
again. The few words she would speak to him were reproaches about
her uncomfortable condition, until Thomas, unwilling to take by
force what was rightfully his and thus chance hurting her and the
baby she carried, gave up. He lay rigid with anger and utterly
defeated on his side of their huge bed, while Selene curled into a
ball as far away from him as she could get.

It was the first of many such nights. Selene
would have nothing to do with him except to berate him for what he
had done to her.

“Consider,” he said to her one morning,
forestalling yet another tongue lashing, “that you may bear a male
child, the heir to Afoncaer and all the rest of Uncle Guy’s lands.
The thought of the honor due to you in that case should rejoice
even your proud heart.”

“It is the only thing,” Selene told him,
“that keeps me from throwing myself off the castle wall and into
the river.”

“Selene!”

“Why not?” she asked, laughing wildly. “Such
a death would be quicker, and much less painful than this long,
drawn-out torment, and what awaits me at the end of it.”

“You know the church’s teaching on suicide,”
Thomas said, horrified, and watched Selene shrug her shoulders.

“I am beyond redemption,” she whispered, very
low.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you. Speak
to me, Selene, tell me you did not mean that terrible threat.”

“Of course I didn’t mean it. I’m too much a
coward to take such action. You needn’t fear for your precious
son-to-be. Now leave me.” She picked up parchment and ink bottle,
preparing to write one of her long letters.

Dismissed like the lowliest of servants,
Thomas went searching for Meredith. He found her alone in the
stillroom, busy with mortar and pestle, compounding some herbal
mixture. Perching on a stool, feeling like the lost little boy he
had been when they first met her so many years ago, he poured out
his problems to this dearest and most discreet of friends.

“She’s mad,” he concluded. “There is no other
explanation for the things she says and does. She was difficult
before Deirdre was born, but this is worse. And this time she’s not
even sick, Meredith. She was only a little queasy for a few
mornings.”

“Where is she now?”

“Shut up in our chamber, writing to her
friend Elvira.”

“What, again?”

“I don’t understand it. She almost never
writes to Lady Aloise. Why to this Elvira, and twice since last
summer?” Thomas ran his hands through his golden hair, disarranging
it into a thick, boyish tangle. “I don’t understand anything about
her, Meredith. When we were first married, I believed that in time
we would learn to be happy together. Now I think Selene doesn’t
want to be happy. She fights every opportunity for happiness as
though it were a mortal sin.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Meredith promised, “and
see if I can reconcile her to this new child.”

Whatever Meredith said to Selene had little
effect, and that was quickly lost in the excitement of the
announcement that came in mid-February. Meredith, too, was with
child, and it would be born a month after Selene’s.

“I can hardly believe it,” Meredith said to
Arianna. “After all these years, and so many false hopes.”

“You must be very happy to have another
chance to give your husband a son,” Arianna replied.

“Yes, I am.” Meredith’s radiant face
confirmed her words. “But Selene is not pleased.”

Selene was in fact jealous, spiteful to
Meredith, and cold to both Thomas and Arianna. Worst of all, she
continued to ignore the daughter to whom she had once been so
devoted, and Deirdre’s care was left completely to Arianna and her
helper, Linnet.

Cristin had used to help in the nursery from
time to time, but in March, Cristin was sent to another noble
family for fostering. She would be gone for at least two years,
until it was time to arrange a suitable marriage for her. Arianna
missed her cheerful prattle about horses, and hawking, and most of
all, about her adored Geoffrey, who had by now been forgiven his
passion for Gwenefer and restored to his rightful place in
Cristin’s affections.

“She’ll forget him once she meets a few
handsome squires,” Thomas said on one of his frequent visits to the
nursery. “Geoffrey would not make a good husband for Cristin. He’s
grown morose and says he distrusts all women. He’s holed up at
Tynant, feeding his dislike of the Welsh. No, Geoffrey is not for
Cristin, whatever she thinks. It’s best not to indulge in such
youthful passions. They only bring sorrow.” His face was closed and
somber as he regarded his sixteen-month-old daughter toddling about
the room, followed by Linnet.

“Cristin could always marry Benet,” Arianna
said, teasing and hoping to rouse him from painful thoughts. “He’s
a good lad, and bright, too.”

“But not well born. Uncle Guy will want to
arrange a better marriage than that for his daughter.” Thomas
scowled and reached forward to take a wooden doll from Deirdre’s
mouth. “She could fall and hurt herself on this, Arianna.”

“Nonsense. It’s perfectly safe.” Arianna
removed the doll from Thomas’s hand and gave it back to Deirdre,
thus forestalling the child’s threatened tears. “I think it’s time
to feed her, Linnet. Would you go to the kitchen and get her food?”
After Linnet left, Arianna turned back to Thomas.

“Benet could rise in the world,” she said.
“Determined men have done so before. He loves Cristin. That’s plain
for anyone to see, and with that inspiration, who knows what he may
do?”

“Love is a dream,” Thomas said. “It has
nothing to do with marriage. What matters is the strength of a
man’s arm when he takes sword in hand, his position in the world,
and most of all, his honor. Nothing else.” The deep blue eyes now
meeting Arianna’s were full of pain.

“Surely not,” she faltered, knowing only too
well what had caused that pain. “There is friendship. You have so
many friends, Thomas, and we all care deeply for you.” There was no
point in pretending she did not know how it was between him and
Selene these days. The entire household knew, probably the whole
town, too. Life in a castle allowed little privacy. The only real
secrets were the ones people kept locked up in their own
hearts.

“Friendship.” Thomas’s hand touched her
shoulder. “You have been a friend. Since the first day I met you,
you have been nearby, to ease pain and offer comfort. How good you
are. How true.” He put his arms around her and held her, and
Arianna, realizing there was no passion in it, but only the need
for human contact, put her arms around him, too, and held him close
in tenderness and the friendship she had spoken of. They stood that
way for a long time, while Deirdre played at their feet, and Thomas
drew strength from the peaceful atmosphere of that room. After a
while he let her go, smiling, holding on to her hands, bending
toward her again to kiss her forehead.

It was at just that moment that Linnet
reappeared with Deirdre’s meal on a tray. Thomas, still smiling,
picked his daughter up, tossing her over his head until she
squealed with laughter, then gave her to Arianna. His hand lingered
along Arianna’s cheek.

“I thank you, dear friend,” he said, and was
gone.

Linnet, returning Deirdre’s empty porridge
bowl to the kitchen a while later, told the cook what she had seen.
It took less than half the day for Selene to hear of it. She came
to the evening meal hard eyed and icy tongued.

“I hear you are sleeping with my husband,”
she hissed, stalking past Arianna on her way to the high table.
“Have a care that he doesn’t get you with child, too.”

“You misunderstood,” Arianna cried, knowing
well what the latest gossip was, for Blanche had warned her. “We
are friends, no more.”

“So were we friends, you and I. Once.” Selene
took in Reynaud, standing close behind Arianna. “First a cripple,
then another woman’s husband. You are rising in the world with each
lover, Arianna. Will it be Guy next, while Meredith’s belly is
big?” Selene swept toward the dais and her chair, leaving Arianna
too shocked to make any response.

“The woman is filled with poison,” Reynaud
said. “Everyone here has felt it, even Guy. No one will believe
that accusation, Arianna. Come, let’s eat. Pretend she never said a
word. That’s the best way to pay her back. Don’t let her see it if
she’s hurt you.”

But someone carried the tale of Selene’s
cruel attack on Arianna to Thomas, who had come to the hall too
late to hear it for himself.

“She will not speak so to you again,” he
promised Arianna after the meal was done and the lower tables were
being folded up and put away. “I’ll beat her if I must, or lock her
in her room till her temper improves. And she shall apologize to
you before everyone who was here when she spoke those slanderous
words.” He took a purposeful step toward the place where Selene
still sat on the dais.

“Don’t make her do that, it will only upset
her more,” Arianna exclaimed, catching at his arm to hold him back.
“Can’t you see she’s not well? Treat her gently. She will be better
once the child is born.”

“You are far more generous than she.” His
attention suddenly caught by a burst of laughter in the center of
the hall, Thomas glanced at a group of younger knights and ladies
gathered there. “What, are they going to dance? Good, you shall
dance with me.”

“I don’t think that’s wise, Thomas.”

“It is an excellent idea.” He smiled down at
her, his anger gone, dazzling her with unexpected laughter. “We
shall dance, together first, and then with other partners, and all
shall see we are but friends. I shall flirt with Blanche, and with
Sir Lambert’s wife, and you do the same with the husbands. That way
no one will imagine it’s only each other we care about.”