Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

Dienwald accepted the goblet of wine. “Please sit down, my lord. You must excuse my distrust, but I am not the fool I must seem. When my men told me of your encampment, I was pleased that you came so quickly for your wife. Of course, she did not believe me. She fancied you would be pleased to see no more of her.”

Graelam tensed, his eyes narrowing. He wanted to leap at the man and tear his heart from his chest with his bare hands. But Dienwald held the upper hand, for the moment at least, and Graelam had no idea how his men were situated outside his tent.

“You have interfered mightily in my life,” he said after a long moment, his voice a sneer. “So she paid you yet again to take her from me.”

Dienwald gently caressed the razor-sharp edge of his sword. “You are a fool, my lord. Your wife’s gentle heart is pure and honest. If she would have me, I would willingly take her from you. I crept into your camp for one reason only. I owe a debt to your wife.”

“What did she use for payment this time?” Graelam hissed. “The necklace again?”

“Aye,” Dienwald said, his lips a twisted smile. “I did not want the damned thing, but she insisted. I have laughed at the irony of it, my lord. Now, you will heed me, for I imagine that I have not much more time. Your wife has never lied to you, at least to my knowledge. ’Twas Blanche who first paid me the necklace to rid herself of your wife. But I could not do it. When I asked her what she wished, she told me to return her to Wolffeton, to you, her husband. Then that whoreson Sir Walter captured me by a ruse, using Kassia’s name. She released the manacles, my lord, because she hated to see me in pain. She was, of course, too trusting. I had to leave her there, for I had no wish to die by your hand.” He paused a moment, then said in a self-mocking voice, “I asked her to come away with me, but she would not. She loves you, though I do not think you deserve it.”

Graelam stared at the man whose words rushed through his mind in a torrent. “You could be lying for her even now,” he said, his voice a menacing snarl. “Perhaps you are even her lover, as I have always suspected.”

Dienwald smiled, encouraged at the fury in Graelam’s face. “I could certainly have ravished her. Perhaps ’tis what Blanche expected, even wished me to do. But I found that even I, a rough and conscienceless rogue, could not harm so gentle and trusting a lady. It is you she loves, my lord, though by all the saints in heaven you do not deserve such tender feelings from her.” He fingered his sword edge for a long moment. “I first believed her the most gentle, biddable of creatures. But ’tis not so. There is a thread of steel in her, my lord, and a pride that rivals any man’s. She left you because she could see no more hope for herself living as your wife. Her sadness would smite the mos

t closed of hearts. As I said before, you are a great fool.”

To Dienwald’s utter surprise, Graelam looked straight at him and said, “Aye, you are right. I realized it myself but days ago. It is more ironic than you believe, de Fortenberry. I found I no longer cared if she had lied to me or not. I want her, and if I can convince her of the truth of my feelings, I will take her back to Wolffeton with me, as my true wife.”

Very slowly Dienwald sheathed his sword. “I trust you have a smooth tongue, my lord, for she is adamant.”

“She will obey me!”

“I foresee a battle royal. Forget not, my lord, that she is in her father’s keep, not yours. I imagine he would protect her from your . . . ah, demands.”

Graelam began to pace furiously about the small space, his powerful naked body gleaming in the gentle candlelight. Suddenly he turned to Dienwald and smiled. “Aye, you’ve the right of it. But she will obey me. I am her husband.” Graelam paused a moment, chewing at his lower lip. “How did her father greet her?”

“I did not enter the fortress with her, fearing some retribution from her father. I have learned never to count on a peaceful welcome from a stranger.”

“It goes against the grain to thank a man I have always considered my enemy. Now that you are no longer a stranger to me, Dienwald de Fortenberry, I will welcome you at Wolffeton. Keep your sword sheathed.”

Dienwald smiled, shaking his head. “Can I really be assured that you will not wish to see my body severed in bloody pieces for your sport?”

Graelam stretched out his hand to Dienwald. “I call you friend. And I thank you for protecting my wife. You are welcome at Wolffeton, I swear it.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“May I now know how you managed to get into my camp and into my tent without any of my men noticing?”

Dienwald chuckled. “ ’Tis not so difficult for a lone man to enter where he wishes, my lord. But leaving intact is a different matter. I am mightily relieved you do not wish to see the color of my blood!”

“Nay,” Graelam said, smiling easily now, “your blood can remain in your body, at least until the tourney. It would please me to face you on the field.”

“A tourney, my lord?”

“Aye, the Duke of Cornwall plans one for April.”

“Then I shall see you there. I bid you good-bye and good luck, my lord.”

Graelam stood motionless as Dienwald slipped quietly from his tent. He shook his head, bemused, and returned to his cot. If only, he thought, snuffing out the gutting candle, he had known the truth months ago. Now it didn’t matter. He pondered on the vagaries of fate before he fell into the first sound sleep he had enjoyed in more than a week.

33

The evening meal was boisterous, Maurice having allowed his stepchildren to join them. The men-at-arms pelted Kassia with questions she did not precisely answer, and all the servants stayed close, wishing to tell her all that had occurred to them during her absence. No one mentioned her husband. Kassia felt her father’s eyes on her, but she resolutely kept a happy smile pinned to her lips. Indeed, she was inordinately pleased to see him so blantantly happy with himself and his new family. Marie appeared as good-natured as Kassia had first suspected; that she loved Maurice, Kassia did not question.

“The stewed beef does not please you, Kassia?” Marie asked her after some time of watching her new stepdaughter push the food about on her trencher.

“Oh, of course, Marie. ’Tis just that I am too excited to eat. Truly, I shall be ravenous on the morrow.”