Secret Song (Medieval Song 4)

st hurt her. It pleased him, this unexpected stoicism of hers.

“Hold still.” As gently as he could, he touched his fingertips to her jaw, probing, making certain it wasn’t broken. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch once.

He saw that she was now looking beyond him to the still-fallen Earl of Clare. “Did you kill him?”

“Of course not. Do you believe me a madman?”

“I have never seen a man fight another as do you.”

Roland grinned and rubbed the bruised knuckles of his left hand against his right palm.

“Aye, Roland,” the king called out. “How come you to destroy another man with such strange motions?”

“A Muslim fellow in Acre taught me. He said that Christians and their notions of honorable fighting left him and his brothers roaring with laughter. They said English knights with their heavy, clumsy horses and their armor that baked them alive under the sun made them shake their heads with wonder. They could not understand how we could be so stupid. They weren’t of course in Barbars’ army. They were outlaws and street thieves.”

The king, fortunately for all those present, chose to be amused. “Street thieves.” They heard a moan and the king nodded to several of the earl’s retainers who had been standing frozen in place, not knowing what to do. They rushed to their master’s side and assisted him.

“I cracked two of his ribs, made him impotent for a week, and severely bruised his throat, rendering speech difficult and painful for him, for three days, I’d say. Nothing that won’t heal with time. Perhaps I should have made him permanently impotent. But the fellow doesn’t have an heir. I found myself in sympathy with him at the last instant.”

Daria looked from him to the king and back again. She saw her husband’s dark eyes were sparkling with pleasure. He’d enjoyed hitting the Earl of Clare, pounding him to the stone floor. She touched her fingertips to her jaw. The pain flashed through her head and she closed her eyes a moment to gain control. To her surprise, she felt his arms go around her. He lifted her high in his arms. “My lady needs to rest,” Roland announced to the assembled group. “Sire, if it pleases you, I will remove her to her former chamber, the small room where the earl held her prisoner for so many months. I doubt not that the earl will insist upon his king and queen having his own chamber. Pain tends to bring a greater measure of reason to a man.”

Roland carried her up the winding narrow stairs to the upper level. The old woman Ena was crouched at the top of the stairs. When she saw Roland carrying her mistress, she stretched out a skinny arm and pointed a bony finger at him and howled, “Ye’ve hurt her.”

“Nay, old witch, your precious earl struck her. She will rest now, and your presence isn’t necessary.”

Daria said not a word. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Roland’s neck. “He moved so quickly I didn’t have time to avoid his fist.”

“I know. I was so surprised at his stupidity that I, too, stared for a good second before I had sense enough to attack him.” He eased her onto the narrow bed and straightened, looking down at her. He said awkwardly, “I’m sorry he struck you, Daria. I wasn’t much of a protector.”

She said nothing, merely nodded. Her head hurt and her jaw pulsed with pain.

“What you said to him—was it true? Did you truly lead him away from me?”

She heard the disbelief in his voice. She turned her head away from him “Aye, it’s true. I lied to him and pretended that I’d escaped you. I made him believe that I rejoiced at his finding me. He didn’t see through it.”

“Then he brought you back here and forced you, raped you. He got you with child then, didn’t he?”

“No. He didn’t touch me. I convinced him that we would both rot in hell if he forced me without marriage first. I told him he would ruin mine own honor if he took me without marriage first. I begged and pleaded. I prayed he would not be able to find a priest, and so he didn’t, until that same day you came for me again. I was also fortunate that he left me for much of that time to search for Welsh outlaws.”

“I see,” Roland said, his voice emotionless. He strode across the small room to the window slit. He stood there gazing down into the inner bailey. This is where Daria had stood, helpless and a prisoner, for so many days. He turned suddenly and said, “Why don’t you have sickness from the babe? I have heard it common in women to be ill.” He shrugged. “To vomit, to feel weak.”

“I am tired more of the time, but nothing more.”

“Your breasts are not sore? Did I hurt you last night?”

She couldn’t bear it, this insistence of his, this distrust. “Leave me alone, Roland. You didn’t hurt me last night, not physically. You merely made me feel defiled and helpless, worth less than nothing.” There, she’d said what she felt. She watched him pale, but only for a moment. His eyes narrowed on her face and he said, his voice even, too even, “You are certain you are with child?”

So he wondered now if even that was a lie. A lie to trap him into marriage? She marveled at his mind, and said calmly enough, “I wasn’t, but the queen was. When I doubted her, she laughed and told me she had considerable experience in matters of knowing when babes were in a woman’s belly. Should you like to question her, Roland?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Daria.”

“Your endless distrust doesn’t suit me.”

His brows lowered and his dark eyes, so full of sparkling pleasure such a short time before, were now cold as a moonless night. “Remain here. I must return to the king.” He strode to the door, then said over his shoulder, “It isn’t true that you have no value at all. Do you so quickly forget all the wealth you bring me?” He left her then without another word, another look.

Daria had no idea of the time. Since it was the midsummer, it would remain light until very late in the evening. She was bored, but she didn’t want to go to the great hall. Her jaw still throbbed, but not as much now. She stood by the open window slit, a spot where she’d spent so many hours, and stared down into the inner bailey. There weren’t as many people about. It must be later than she’d thought. Her stomach growled and she crossed her arms over her belly. It was then, sudden as a streak of lightning, that her belly cramped, nausea flooded her, and she dashed to the chamber pot and vomited up what little food she’d eaten that day. She was heaving, her jaw aching ferociously after her exertion, kneeling on the floor over the pot, when the chamber door opened. She hadn’t the energy to turn about, but she knew it was Roland. She heard him suck in his breath, heard him quicken his step to her. She felt his large hand on her shoulder.

She still didn’t raise her head. Another wave of sickness hit her and she jerked and shuddered with dry heaves, since there was no more food in her belly. She felt weak and stupid and so listless that she didn’t care at that moment if he was repelled at her illness. She remained still, bent over the chamber pot, breathing heavily, sweat trickling down her back and between her breasts.