Bond of Blood (28 page)

Radnor watched Leah lifted into her saddle by her groom and prepared to mount his own horse, always a painful process because of the need of putting his full weight on his left foot in the stirrup. Ordinarily he eased the strain by grasping the pommel and pulling himself up. He was just about to do so when a blow on the shoulder and a scream of "Ware! Guard! " made him throw up mail-clad arms to protect his bare head and neck and leap back from his horse in a crouch. He heard Beaufort cry out as he was struck and whirled to cover them both with his shield. From the corner of his eye he could see his stallion rear and fall, screaming with the pain of three deep-driven arrows. Leah's groom struggled to hold her terrified gelding, and in moments the courtyard was a seething mass of infuriated men and kicking animals.

Sticky and warm, Beaufort's blood ran over the hand with which Cain was supporting him. More blood poured, dyeing the ground red as Giles grunted and cut the stallion's throat. Radnor went mad.

Bareheaded and without the shield which he had left covering Sir Harry, he charged the inner door of the keep. It was shut and he flung himself against it again and again, calling his battle cry. His men rallied to the call; the door gave under the combined assault. The innocence of the greater part of Oxford's retainers was loudly proclaimed by the ease with which the keep was reduced to a shambles, but no evidence could halt the impetus of Radnor's rage. It did not matter that few retainers were armed and even fewer put up any fight at all. Radnor's men, well seconded by Hereford and his troop, raged through the castle led by their blazing-eyed master until battlements, stairways, and the great hall were awash with blood.

Nauseated with reaction but not yet sated, Radnor faced a trembling and unarmed Oxford. "Arm and fight," he choked.

"I am no match for you."

"Full armor for you, I will fight as I am."

"No!"

"I will fight you on foot as I am, if you will arm and fight."

For a split second Oxford hesitated, since on foot the crippled Radnor was at a huge disadvantage. Then, "No."

"Yield, then, for the craven you are or I cut your throat before the faces of your wife and children."

"I am innocent of this," cried Oxford, bursting into tears. "I have done you no harm and wished you no harm. You cannot do this to me."

"Can I not?" Radnor snarled, and lifted his sword.

"Hold your hand, Radnor," Hereford intervened, arriving bloodstained and gasping from the courtyard. "Those arrows belong to your own men."

"What!"

"Ay, the feathering and crests are those of Gaunt, but I will lay my life against a copper mil that no man of yours loosed the string that sped them. However, six of your men are missing."

"I know nothing of it … nothing … nothing," Oxford sobbed, and went down on the floor and embraced Radnor's knees.

"You must let him be, for all that he deserves hanging," Hereford continued, his mouth twisted with revulsion. "There is no proof against him. I doubt not that the bodies of your men are buried or concealed or the pieces of them down the waste-fall, but who can prove that the men were not bought by someone else and fled on the failure of the plan? His men are one thing, but if you harm him personally, we will be arraigned for murder."

"Dead men do not bring complaints," Radnor insisted, his eyes still red with anger.

"Do you mean to put every soul in the castle—women and children, too—to the sword? There will always be someone to bring complaint."

"Before God," wept the man clinging to Radnor's legs, "before God I had no part in this. Whether they were bought or slain—I had no part in it, no knowledge of it."

"Radnor, for heaven's sake, you have taken vengeance enough for a mare's son. Give over. Let us go. Mayhap he even speaks the truth. His men were unarmed and unaware, without defense. Nothing stood between us and the keep but one door, and that only hastily locked, as one traitor might have done, not barred or bolted. This is a dreadful sin we have committed, to kill men unarmed and unaware."

"A mare's son only? Is my man's life worth nothing?"

Hereford came forward, wiping his bloody sword and sheathing it. Once Radnor stopped fighting and began to talk he was always reasonable. "Beaufort is hardly hurt. A wound in the flesh of the shoulder. He will mend quicker than your rage will abate."

Without another word or glance, Radnor pried Oxford free of his legs and left the keep. Another horse was ready saddled for him, and the courtyard was regaining some semblance of order under Giles' direction. Harry Beaufort was on his feet, and, though he had a bloodstained cloth round his shoulder, he stood sword in hand guarding Leah.

"How much are you hurt?" Radnor asked him.

"Nothing, my lord. A scratch that let a little blood."

Radnor nodded acceptance and turned to his wife. "Are you all right, Leah? You are so pale. You were not hurt?"

"I am perfectly well, but for God's sake, my lord, let us go from here before worse befalls us."

"As quickly as we may. I stay only to gather my men, and Hereford the same. Giles!"

"Coming, my lord."

"What is the count?"

"Six missing—did my lord Hereford tell you?"

"Yes."

"Half a dozen scratches that a cat could do better, and a broken arm."

"A broken arm?"

"The fool slipped in the blood on the stairs and must needs come down on one arm. He can ride."

"Let us go then. Hereford I see is also ready. My belly crawls in this place."

"Ay, you were always one with an uneasy stomach for such work," Giles remarked. "Mayhap it would be better not to go to a place where you expect blood pudding to be served, especially when you do not intend to finish the portion. Have you never faced a flight of arrows before or a knife in the ribs that you need run mad?"

"Very well, very well," Cain replied irritably. "I know it was not well done. Were you so cool last night? Then you were crying out for blood."

"It was not my head they were after. There are things I love better than my own skin."

Radnor turned eyes filled equally with pain and disbelief on his old tutor. "You have known me for nearly thirty years," he said finally with an effort, "can you say this to me? Can you call me a coward? In all these years, you, at least, have never missaid me before—"

"What made you commit this folly, then? How are we to win home again? Is there a man between here and London to whom Oxford is not tied by blood and marriage? If you were not mad with fear, why did you do it?"

Cain rubbed his forehead, leaving bloody streaks across it. "It was the blood, the way the horse screamed and Beaufort bled," he answered slowly. "I must suppose I
was
mad. Well, there is no help for it; we must make London tonight. I do not believe we return by this path in any case, but it will be time enough to ford that river when we come to it."

"That spills readily enough from your tongue, but things are not as they were wont to be. Will your lady wife be able to ride so long and so far?"

Cain's eyes grew momentarily hard. "Needs must is a hard master, but one that is obeyed. I can carry her on the saddlebow if she grows too weary. Give the order to ride. To tarry longer is fruitless, and dangerous."

Chapter 12

Lord Hereford broke a long silence when the tired troop reached the West Gate in London's wall. "Do we rouse the porters and demand entrance, or do we stay here until sunrise?"

Radnor shifted Leah, who was sleeping before him in the saddle, so that he could take the reins from his numb left hand. "I think we had better stay. I had not meant to come so far, but I have been so occupied in seeking a way out of this hideous coil that I did not see where we were. Let us withdraw a little way, make camp, and enter with dignity at a reasonable hour in the morning."

"At a reasonable hour? Do you not mean to win to the king on his first rising? Why have we ridden all night but to explain first and in our own way what happened at Oxford?"

"Nay, we rode to keep our skins whole. Oxford has too many relations between his home and London to make comfortable travel for those who have offended him. On the other matter, Hereford, you cannot have considered. If we run with all haste to the king, we tell the world that it is important which side of the tale he hears first. Innocence does not hasten to proclaim itself, but looks greatly surprised upon being questioned and then gives answer."

"Innocence! There is the blood of some hundred or two men on our hands. How do you mean to explain not mentioning that? A slight lapse of memory?"

"Nonsense," Radnor replied testily. "What need to mention a deserved chastisement except to make suitable apologies if the insult was not intended. Look you, Hereford, here is what I propose. I will go to Pembroke's house," he glanced at Leah but she slept soundly, her cheek nestled against the velvet of his surcoat, "and—"

"Oh, you are madder than a hornet. And to think I have known you all these years and never seen it before."

"Why should I not take the house? I have paid for it. You are the one who claims Pembroke is innocent. Anyway, will I not be better on my guard in his choice of a house than in my own which I might think, wrongly, safer?"

"Now you are making madness sound like good reason. Thus you cozened me into Oxford's keep and into this mess. You only talk around and around me. I know something is wrong, but I cannot lay my finger upon it."

"Hear me out, perhaps it will become clear. Tomorrow or rather today at the usual time and in the usual way I will present myself. I expect to be met with Oxford's accusation, to which I will reply that one attempt upon me might well be an accident, but two in the same place give good reason for suspicion and chastisement. For present safety I need only Stephen's verbal pardon in open court, and I believe I can have it. The Marcher lords are here in strength to support me—and, no doubt, my innocence will shine forth."

"And what of me?"

"You? What have you to do with this matter? You were merely there by accident, and if a few of your men were carried away by the excitement and became embroiled, why you could not help that. Oxford owes his life to you."

"A few?" Hereford laughed, amused in spite of the gravity of their situation by the surprised and injured innocence of Radnor's voice and expression.

"Do not be a fool," Radnor replied, completely sober again. "It is not you they want. You," he added with dry bitterness, "are in a fair way to hang yourself without their help. I doubt that Oxford will mention you at all except to praise."

"All right," Hereford agreed finally. "I like it, all except that accursed house. God knows how else you could explain what happened. After all, even if your men did turn on you, you can claim they were bought, and who more likely to buy them in Oxford's keep than Oxford."

When Radnor saw the house to which Oxford had given him the keys the previous night, he was well satisfied with the first portion of his plan. It was a reasonably large building, the lower half of stone and brick, the upper of wood. The gardens were overgrown and useless, but the stable sheds in the back yard seemed to be adequately roofed and in fair repair. There would be room for his men on the lower floor, and, best of all, the house stood alone and should be easily defensible.

Leah was more interested in the upper floor, for she would live there, and in the kitchens at the back of the lower floor of the house, for feeding the men was her responsibility. Before anything else was attempted, she realized, she must obtain servants. The men-at-arms might be willing to chop wood and draw water, although she doubted it, but they would be incapable of performing most other household tasks and unwilling to do so for fear of losing social status.

Unfortunately she had not the faintest idea how one obtained servants in a place like London. People were born into service on the estates or were chosen for training from the children of serfs or villeins. All were eager to become castle servants because the life was far easier than that eked from the land, and socially a castle servant was above the serf or even the free farmer. However, there were no serfs belonging to Radnor in London, as far as Leah knew.

There was no use in asking her husband for help in this matter. Away from Hereford's presence he had given way to his emotions. He was dressing for his court appearance now in a black fury, kicking furniture about and cursing in three languages, using words even in French that Leah could not understand.

Leah knew she must manage this matter on her own. Of the people she had met at her wedding, who would be likely to be in London? Lady Shrewsbury … Leah shuddered. She certainly would be unwilling to help her, or entirely too helpful for reasons of her own. The Leicesters should be here by this time, and so should William of Gloucester and his wife. She would have to ask Cain where they would be staying and how to contact the ladies.

Just as she reached that decision, however, he burst past her with such an expression on his face that even Leah, who had not been in the least frightened by his display of bad temper, would not dare speak to him.

"Sir Harry and the first fighting order will accompany me. Now ! Quick! God damn you, move your filthy hides, you whoresons. Hurry!"

The men leapt to obey, having considerable experience of their master in this mood. One unfortunate who stumbled against Radnor in his rush was felled unconscious with a blow that would have stunned an ox. Giles pushed Odo, who happened to be nearest him.

"Take his place, quick, if you want us all to keep our heads. My lord, do I accompany you?"

Radnor looked around, his eyes blank with his inner tempest. To have to explain, to excuse himself, possibly to humble himself before Stephen and his court made him sick. To know that it was his own fault, that it would not have happened except for his loss of control, that except for that he might have had a weapon to use against one of the favorites of the king, nearly made him insane. Why had he done it? Was it fear? Hate? Pride? Just the lust to kill and kill and kill? He hardly heard the question addressed to him.