Secret Song (Medieval Song 4)

“And Daria? When will she be up and about again?”

Roland shrugged, and bent to retrieve the wooden carafe from the floor.

“It’s because of me that she lost the babe. I am sorry for it, Roland.”

“Lady Katherine said it was God’s will that you be saved. If that is the truth of it, then so be it. There is no blame here, Graelam. Rest now, and obey your wife. Daria does well enough. Kassia, when you wish to be relieved of this giant’s company, you will send me word. Now, Rolfe awaits outside to see you, Graelam. Some matter of little importance, I imagine, but he doesn’t wish you to feel impotent.”

Roland left Graelam’s chamber, his destination the stables. He wanted to clear his mind, to leave all the pain and hurt behind him for just a few hours.

Not that Daria had said anything to him.

She’s said nothing. She’d slept throughout that day, awakening in the early evening to drink some beef broth prepared especially for her by Alice. Roland wanted to see her, hold her, perhaps, assure himself that she was all right, but when he had entered the room, it was as if she wasn’t there. A pale copy of her lay in the bed, but Daria, his Daria, was gone. As was the babe. She’d looked at him, then turned away. He’d slept that night in the great hall, wrapped in a blanket, one of the castle dogs at his feet.

It was nearly dark in the bedchamber, yet she made no move to light a candle. The air was cooling finally after the intense heat of the day, and Daria pulled a light blanket over her. It brought her no pain to do so. She felt no pain at all, just a soreness and the damnable weakness.

Her mother came into the room quietly, her stride light and graceful even though she carried a tray doubtless filled with an assortment of incredible foods from Alice. Daria closed her eyes, but it was too late.

“Nay, love, don’t pretend with me. You must eat.”

Daria felt the soft sting of candlelight against her eyelids. She didn’t want to be awake, she didn’t want to be here. She said aloud, her voice still raw and hoarse, “I wish I had died, Mother. It would have solved every problem.”

“It would have solved your problem and only yours. You wouldn’t be feeling a thing. But everyone else’s?” At least she’d spoken, at last, Katherine thought, even though what she said sent pain in her mother’s heart. She continued, speaking her mind. “You will bear your pain just as everyone around you bears his own. But that isn’t the point, is it, Daria?”

“The point is that I have no more excuse to remain here, in his castle, eating his food, sleeping in his bed.”

“It isn’t a matter of excuses.”

Roland’s voice came from the doorway. Katherine whirled about, wondering how much he’d heard. As for Daria, she turned her face away, closing her eyes. Katherine watched him as he strode into the room. He looked tired, she thought. He said to her even as he looked only at his wife, “I will see that she eats, Katherine. Sir Thomas grows restive in your absence. I would appreciate your being our hostess until Daria is well again.”

Katherine looked down at her daughter, then back at her son-in-law. She wanted to beg him to go gently, but his face was now closed, his eyes cold, as if he guessed she would press him again. She said nothing. Roland waited until the door closed after her; then he moved to stand beside the bed.

“You will eat your dinner.”

Daria said nothing, nor did she move.

“You’re not dead, Daria, so there are still problems abounding, and you must help to solve them, and that means that you must get out of that bed. I can’t regain your strength for you. You must do it for yourself. Now, eat, or I will force the food down your throat. I won’t tell you again.”

When she didn’t respond to him, he leaned down and clasped her under her arms and pulled her up. He smoothed the pillows behind her and straightened the covers. “Have I dislodged the cloths?”

“No.”

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Good. I will place the tray here and you will eat. I won’t leave you alone until you have done so.”

She turned to face him. For the past two days he’d kept his distance from her. Now it seemed that he was changing his tactics. His voice was cold, his face set. His dark eyes, so beautiful and deep, regarded her with no emotion at all. He looked tired, and she wondered what he’d done during the day.

She said aloud now, “Why are you doing this? What do you want? I will give you an annulment, though I doubt anything I would say would have any bearing on it.”

A black eyebrow shot up. “Eat some of these stewed carrots and beans.”

Daria ate several bites of the stewed vegetables. They were delicious and she realized she was starving. Her mouth began to water. She took a bite of mutton, marinated in some sort of incredible dill sauce, and roasted until the meat was falling from the bone. She nearly moaned aloud at the wondrous taste of it.

She continued to eat. Roland merely watched her, saying nothing. He was so relieved, he could think of nothing to say in any case. She was still so very pale that it scared the devil out of him. He’d allowed her two days; nothing had changed. She’d fallen even more deeply into depression. She was retreating even further from him. He would allow her no more time, in the hopes she would regain her spirit. He would take over now.

“I would say that eating Alice’s cooking is preferable to dying,” he said at last as she chewed on a hunk of soft white bread.