Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“Nay,” Graelam said slowly, his thoughts upon his second wife, dead within hours of their marriage.

“Is there another lady who has caught your fancy?”

Graelam smiled at the impatience in the duke’s voice. “Nay,” he said again, and shrugged. “A wife is a burden, my lord duke, a burden that chills my guts.”

“You are nearing thirty years old, Graelam! Do you wish to be an old man like me before you see your sons become men?”

And there must be an heir for Belleterre, Graelam thought suddenly.

“You begin to convince me, my lord,” he said, “with your terrifying logic.”

“Forget not,” the duke continued, more tolerantly now, for he scented victory, “that even the wealth you brought from the Holy Land does not go far enough to provide you comforts within your keep.” He looked pointedly at the bare stone walls and the reed-covered floors, and doubted not that there were lice mixed with the refuse and bones. The furniture was scant and roughly hewn, with no soft cushions for a man’s weary buttocks. The beamed ceiling was black from years of neglect, and the wall sconces were as black as the mutton-fat rushes they held. “A wife who brought a fat dowry and housewifely skills would make Wolffeton a truly noble keep.”

“But a wife,” Graelam said wearily, leaning his head back against the high-backed chair. “ ’Tis something that haunts a man all his days.”

“As I said,” the duke interrupted, “the Lady Joanna is comely. Perhaps you would learn to care for her.”

“Care for a woman?” Graelam arched a thick black brow up a good inch. “If she were a good breeder, ’twould have to be enough. Why does Leichester choose me?”

“As one of the king’s closest friends,” the duke said with weary patience, “as well as being my vassal, Leichester need look no higher. Any of his neighbors would think twice before encroaching on Leichester’s lands with such a powerful son-in-law.”

“You have yourself seen this Lady Joanna?”

“Aye, once about six months ago. As I said, she is comely, and built just like her mother. And, I might add, that woman has borne with ease five sons, four of whom have survived.”

“I suppose she would expect to be wooed and have songs written about her eyebrows.”

“You are a hard man, Graelam. I offer you a rich plum and you complain about playing the suitor.”

“And if I beat the wench for disobedience, I suppose I can expect tears and reproaches and her father upon my neck!”

“Just keep her belly filled with children, and she’ll have no time for disobedience. As to wenches you take to bed, it would be wise to be somewhat more discreet once you have a wife.”

Graelam thought of Nan, who was now likely to be sleeping peacefully in his bed. “I must think on it, my lord,” Graelam said, rising and stretching.

The Duke of Cornwall rose also and faced the young man he loved more than his own worthless son. He gave him a wide smile. “Think quickly, my lord, for the Lady Joanna will arrive next week . . . for a visit. She will be accompanied by some of her father’s men as well as her ladies. If you suit, the wedding will be attended by her parents and me, of course.”

“You wicked old man,” Graelam said, a dull flush of anger rising over his face. “You woo me with reason, then clamp down your chains!”

“Plow the wench in your bed well, Graelam, for it would be wise to forgo your appetites once the Lady Joanna has arrived.” He clapped his hand to Graelam’s shoulder. “Don’t be angry with me, my boy. ’Tis for the best.”

“Christ’s bones,” Graelam growled. “Best for whom?”

But the Duke of Cornwall only laughed. “You’ll make a lusty husband for the girl, Graelam. Be content.”

6

“The Duke of Cornwall has arranged a marriage for me,” Graelam said to Blanche. “Lady Joanna and her retinue will arrive next week. Can you make preparations for her comfort?”

Blanche stared at him, unable to take in his words. Married! She wanted to scream and cry at the same time, and strike Graelam until he bled like she was bleeding inside. She lowered her head, running her tongue over her suddenly parched lips, and listened to him continue, his voice as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather.

“If the girl is pleasing enough, I will wed her.”

Blanche clutched at his words like a lifeline. “You do not know her, Graelam? You have never seen her?”

“Nay. I know nothing about her, save she is an heiress.” Graelam shrugged. “If she can breed me sons, I suppose it is enough to ask. Her father is interested in gaining me as a son-in-law because of my friendship with the king and the Duke of Cornwall.”

Blanche’s thoughts raced. Surely all was not lost! Graelam cared naught for this Joanna, had never even seen the wench. She still had time. “My lord,” she said finally, her head lowered modestly, her voice softly shy, “it is likely that the Lady Joanna, being such a young girl, knows little of managing a keep the size of Wolffeton. If it pleases you, it would be my . . . honor”—she nearly choked on the word—“to assist her in gaining the necessary knowledge.”