Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“Dienwald de Fortenberry is not my lover,” she said quietly, hopelessly.

His fingers tightened about her shoulders and he felt her small bones twisting beneath his strength. Damn him for a fool! He had ridden back to Wolffeton like a maniac, his only thought of Kassia and holding her, seeing her, listening to her laugh, feeling her soft body beneath him, opening to him. His fingers ground harshly into her shoulders and she whimpered from pain. He released her abruptly and stood.

“Come,” he said roughly. “I do not wish you to die from a fever.”

She staggered to her feet and pulled her cloak more closely about her. She saw Sir Walter standing in the narrow doorway, a look of hatred contorting his features. She said in a loud, clear voice, “Did Sir Walter tell you how he managed to capture Dienwald de Fortenberry? Did he tell you how he beat him viciously whilst he was bound and could not defend himself?”

Graelam turned slowly to face his knight.

“Did he tell you that he trusted you to kill de Fortenberry and then reward him for bringing him to you?”

Graelam said in a cold voice, “I will speak to Sir Walter, wife. Now, my lady, you will come with me.”

He drew away from her a moment and spoke in a quiet voice to Sir Walter. The man nodded and withdrew. He hates me because I am a woman and thus not to be believed or trusted, she thought. She said aloud, “I did not betray you, Graelam. I have never betrayed you.”

She saw the fury building in his dark eyes. She threw back her head, raising her chin. “Will you kill me now? Just as you would have killed Dienwald?”

He looked at that proud tilted chin of hers and turned quickly away, his hands clenched at his sides. He did not want to strike her, for if he did, it would likely kill her.

“That is why he escaped, Graelam. It is true that I released his chains, but my thought was only to spare him more pain. I trusted him to tell you the truth, that it was Blanche who had paid him the necklace to be rid of me, but he said you would kill him regardless of what he told you. He did not wish to die.”

“So he left you here, chained, to face me. An honorable man.”

“Was he right? Would you have killed him?”

“Come, Kassia,” he said, striding to the cell door.

She followed him silently, feeling blessedly numb. She did not wonder about the future; it could be naught but the cold misery of the present.

There was utter silence as she walked beside her husband through the great hall. She felt the servants’ eyes upon her. She imagined that she could even feel their fear for her. But she felt no fear. She felt nothing. Everything was over now.

Graelam paused a moment and gave orders for hot water to be brought to their bedchamber. She saw the lines of fatigue in his face for the first time, and the filth of his chain mail and tunic. She wanted to ask him if he was all right, then almost laughed aloud at the wifely spurt of concern she felt for him.

When they reached their bedchamber, Graelam ignored her. Evian helped him strip off his armor. After he dismissed the boy, he peeled off the rest of his clothes and sank down naked into his high-backed chair. Still he said nothing.

Two serving wenches came into the room and poured hot water into the wooden tub. Graelam rose and walked to the tub even as they filled it, seemingly oblivious of his nakedness. He dismissed them with a curt nod and climbed into the tub.

He felt the hot water seep into his muscles, easing his soreness and bone-weariness. He wondered vaguely whether Sir Walter would have left her locked in de Fortenberry’s cell if Graelam had not returned until the following night. No, the knight would not have dared. Graelam sighed, easing his body deeper into the water. Thoughts of his joy at seeing Kassia mingled with knowledge of her deception, and he felt suddenly old and very tired. His father was right. Drake, his armorer, was right. He had been a fool to have begun to doubt his sire’s wisdom. Women were good for breeding, and only if a husband kept his wife away from other men to ensure whose seed filled her belly. Had de Fortenberry taken her before he had escaped? He sat up in the tub and turned his head to see her sitting quietly, as still as a statue, in a chair. “Kassia,” he said quite calmly, “take off your clothes. I wish to see if de Fortenberry’s seed is in your body or still clinging to your thighs.”

She could only gape at him, furious color flooding her face, as his words gained meaning in her mind.

“Damn you, do as I say!”

“Graelam,” she said, clutching the arms of the chair until her knuckles showed white, “please, you must believe me. Dienwald de Fortenberry was not my lover!”

“If you do not obey me, I will rip off your clothes.”

“Why won’t you believe me?”

His jaw clenched. He quickly washed his hair and his body and just as quickly rose from the tub and dried himself. From the corner of his eye he saw her rise from the chair and dart toward the chamber door. He caught her as her hand touched the brass handle.

“Please,” she panted, “for once, please believe me!?

?

“Do you want me to rip your clothes off?”

She stared up at him, knowing he was implacable. She would not let him cow her again. Slowly she shook her head. “You will not humiliate me,” she said. “My only crime was feeling concern for a man who was kind to me.” Her chin went up. “I am glad he was wise enough to escape. I am glad he did not stay so you could kill him.”