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She wondered how he knew that, but didn’t say anything. She sighed deeply and turned once again to face her husband. “I’m not ill. I think I will go for a walk now. I bid you good night, Roland.”
“What you will do, Daria, is return with me to the great hall and see to your guests.”
“They are not my guests, Roland. They are yours; they are here at your keep; they are here at your pleasure; they are enjoying your bounty, not mine. I have naught to do with anything. Don’t lie to me about them being my guests. I am nothing here and they are nothing to me.”
“It is a pity you removed yourself before I could finish my toast.”
She looked at him warily, not willing to trust him an inch. “What do you mean?”
He flicked a piece of lint from the sleeve of his tunic. Her eyes followed the movement and she was looking at his long fingers when he said, “Without you—and your magnificent dowry, that is—I wouldn’t be able to make needed repairs on the keep. Without you I wouldn’t be able to increase my herds, hire more soldiers, bring in more peasants, and see to luxuries within the keep. Because of you, Daria, I am able to bring my home to its former glory now rather than in the misty future.”
It was his home, just as all she had brought through the marriage was his as well. She shoved him out of her way. Because she caught him off-guard, she was able to slip past him. She raced along the narrow rampart walkway to the wide ladder that rose from the inner bailey.
He watched her climb down the ladder. She moved carefully, even in her anger, to protect the babe in her womb. He watched her dash across the inner bailey, gracefully avoiding refuse and puddles of water and two sleeping goats. He turned back and took her place at the rampart wall. He leaned his elbows on the rough stone. The night winds rose and the air thickened. He wondered, suddenly, without warning, what his father would think of him right at this moment. He saw his father’s face after Roland had finally told him of Joan of Tenesby’s treachery. He could still hear his deep soft voice as he said to his second son, “Listen, Roland, and listen well. You were played the fool, boy, but it didn’t kill you. It hurt your heart and your pride, nothing more. It won’t last, these sorrowing feelings. In the future, when you hear of the man who weds Joan of Tenesby, you will feel pity for the poor fellow, for he had not your luck. Nay, he will have gone blindly to his fate. You will tread more carefully now, and when it comes your time to wed, you will know what to seek and what to avoid in a wife. Honesty, Roland, honesty is a rare commodity in any human, man or woman. When you find honesty, then you will be the winner.”
Honesty, Roland thought. Honesty. Rare indeed, and he hadn’t found it.
He turned away from the ramparts wall. No, he hadn’t found honesty and he was himself becoming more dishonest with each passing day.
Just that morning, as the soft pearl lights of dawn had filled their small bedchamber, he had pulled Daria against him, then rolled on top of her. He’d felt the small roundness of her belly and it had driven him mad. He’d taken her quickly and left her. And he’d wondered if this child she carried would look like the Earl of Clare.
Katherine of Fortescue felt wonderful. She was sitting in the small apple and pear orchard at the rear of the keep. It was a warm day with a thick hot sun, but the dense branches of the apple tree shaded her well enough. She set another perfect stitch in the gown she was sewing for her daughter. She surprised herself by humming, something she hadn’t done in so long she’d thought she had forgotten, but she hadn’t. She hummed louder, charmed by the sound and by her nearly delirious sense of freedom, then burst into song. The gown dropped unheeded to her lap. Her voice was thin but true and she sang until she heard Sir Thomas chuckle behind her.
She turned to smile at him. “Do you come to silence the noise, Sir Thomas?”
“Nay, I come to smile and feel my old bones warm.”
“Old bones. You speak foolishness, sir. Why, you are still a young man.”
“If it pleases you to say so, I shan’t cavil.” He seated himself beside her on the narrow stone bench. It had belonged to his grandmother. So many years had passed, so many events had shaped what he’d become now—
“I’m glad you haven’t yet taken your leave,” Katherine said, looking at Sir Thomas straightly.
“Roland has asked me to stay.” He shrugged then, adding, “I cannot, in any case. Your sweet daughter—” His voice trailed off. “Nay, ask me not, Katherine, for I know not what trouble lies between them. I act as the block of wood between the two of them, a comfortable block, stolid and silent, and both of them look to that block for ease and safe conversation. Think you I should take my leave?”
She shook her head and set another perfect stitch.
“You are a woman of good judgment,” he said, plucking a long piece of grass and wrapping it around his callused fingers. “You don’t meddle. You treat your son-in-law with respect and kindness. You don’t frown your displeasure at him when you see your daughter’s pale face. You don’t try to tell your daughter what she does wrong and try to correct her.”
Katherine grinned at him. “I am lazy, sir. Why should I work when Daria wishes to assume all the responsibility?”
“You lie, my lady. It is your wisdom that holds you silent, that and your love for your daughter.”
“Like you, Sir Thomas, I shan’t cavil if you wish to pay me compliments.”
Sir Thomas said abruptly. “Are you healed?”
Her fingers stilled and she was silent for many moments.
“I’m sorry to distress you. It is just that I would kill the Earl of Reymerstone were he here. Indeed, I wonder if I shouldn’t pay the bastard a visit when I leave here and show him the contempt I feel for him.”
Her hand shot out and closed over his clenched ones. “Damon Le Mark is a paltry creature, Sir Thomas. He knows no honor, no loyalty, and his treachery has rotted his soul. Ah, he knows pleasure because another’s suffering gives it to him. Let him die in his own misery. And he will die as he deserves to, I know it.”
“But he would have killed you had not Burnell brought you here.”
“I must admit I felt a good deal of relief when Burnell told me I was coming here. Actually, he’d beaten me worse than that several times before.”
Sir Thomas drew back, pain and shock contorting his features. “I must tell Roland. I must, for it is his right to avenge you.”
