Gayle Callen (19 page)

R
eynold’s wavy hair was plastered to his head, rain fell in streaks down his anguished face. They stared at each other for endless moments.

“Leave me!” he finally said, his voice hoarse.

She stepped closer. “Reynold, what is happening? Why did you throw down your weapon?”

“James bested me,” he whispered, slumping down on a bench against the ivy-covered wall.

“Do not lie to me. I know what I saw. Your face—”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and the rain dripped down his cheeks like tears.

Katherine came closer, telling herself to leave, but unable to comply. Reynold was hurt, he was aching inside, and she couldn’t just leave him like this. Hesitantly, she spread her damp skirts and sat down beside him.

When he said nothing, she finally whispered, “Tell me. Tell me everything, Reynold. Why did you go into the monastery?”

He sighed, and then the painful words began to tumble out. “My brother, Edmund, was destined from birth for the monastery. He was sickly as a child, pale, skinny. There was nothing he liked better than burying his face in a book. I—I did not understand him.”

There was bewilderment in his voice, and such self-hatred that Katherine longed to hold his hand, but she could not.

“He embarrassed me,” Reynold continued softly. “How could I, this worthy knight, have such a wretched brother? He could not even defend himself.”

“Oh Reynold,” she whispered, and this time she slid her fingers over his, where they clenched his thighs.

“When I could take it no longer, I challenged him to learn to swordfight. I goaded him, I bullied him. And in the end, Edmund gave in.” He gave a ragged sigh. “When I lifted my sword to James, all I could see was Edmund’s white face, his concentration, his pathetic efforts to please me. I—I tried so hard to be easy on him, to instruct him. But he was not like my other training partners. He did not know when to get out of the way.”

Katherine encircled his shoulders with her arms, tears spilling from her own eyes, mixing with the rain. She almost didn’t want to hear the rest, but she knew Reynold couldn’t stop now.

“My sword caught him on the shoulder. It was but a scratch. My God, we
laughed
about it that night. He was proud of himself, and I was arro
gantly sure I had done my knightly duty. But by the next day, the wound was inflamed and he had a fever. And the day after that—”

His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands. Katherine was on her knees on the bench, arms as far about him as they would go. His shoulders shook, and she held him, soothed him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Reynold. Surely you must see that.”

He wrenched from her embrace and stood, whirling until he leaned over her. “I killed my own brother! I was embarrassed by him. I forced him—”

“In your own way, you tried to help him. Even a monk must know how to defend himself. But his death was an accident!”

“It took five days, and as I sobbed at his bedside, he forgave me over and over again.” Reynold shuddered. “But I never forgave myself. And neither did James.”

Reynold closed his eyes, but he could not block the sight of Edmund’s pain-ravaged face.

“Reynold, Edmund had the right of it. He would not want you to suffer like this. James’s opinion doesn’t matter—only your own does. You
must
forgive yourself.”

As he looked into her earnest face, so serious, so anguished for him, Reynold felt something wrench inside himself.

“But I cannot! I cannot just…let his memory go.”

She clasped his hands. “If you forgive yourself,
you’ll be able to remember the precious times you spent with your brother, not his death. You will go back to the monastery at peace with yourself.”

Reynold looked at Katherine in amazement, wondering where the timid, naive girl he first met had gone. Bolstered by her serene gaze, he felt the ache in his heart begin to ease. He had told her everything about him, and she had not run, had not looked upon him with either contempt or fear.

Very slowly, he lifted her hands to his lips and held them there. She tasted of sweet rain and perfumed skin. She trembled, and finally broke away.

“I must go,” she whispered. And then she ran.

Reynold couldn’t move. He stared after Katherine in shock. Everything he had believed about himself was lying in shattered pieces. Just telling her about Edmund had dissolved away the heaviness that had clung to his heart. Images of his brother flashed through his mind, but he no longer saw his face contorted in the agonies of death. He remembered Edmund as a youngster, wheezing for breath through another one of his attacks, but insisting Reynold read to him long into the night. The bloodlust of practice and battle receded only with Edmund. He realized those moments were some of the most peaceful in his life. Edmund never took Reynold’s goading seriously, always thought the best of everything Reynold said. He had taught Reynold that the weak were not to be pitied, that they had strengths of their own, secrets they could share.

Without knowing it, Reynold had absorbed Edmund’s lessons in peace, in helping others. Without Edmund’s subtle guidance, he never would have been able to help Katherine the way she needed him to. In his old life, he would have done everything for her, because of course he would have thought her a weak woman, incapable of doing things that needed strength. Through Edmund’s example he had learned that some people have a different kind of strength.

Reynold released a shuddering sigh and bent his face into his hands. Everything had changed, including what he thought should become of his life.

As the sun began to set, Katherine watched with a heavy heart as James conversed easily with her father. She could not stop herself from wondering how they would look at her if they knew of her weakness, her sin. And what they would do to Reynold made her too ill to think of.

She turned to watch Reynold, who smiled and talked with his sister. He appeared more comfortable with Margery than he was with James, although that seemed natural, given that he and Margery had the same father. He was more relaxed, peaceful. Didn’t Reynold feel as awkward and guilty as she did? Or did talking about Edmund finally relieve his soul?

Katherine’s mother entered the great hall just as the servants were setting up trestle tables for the evening meal. The inevitable coldness filled Kath
erine’s heart whenever she looked at the countess. She remembered her mother’s angry accusations when Katherine had confessed the attack by her priest. Dazed and hurt by her mother’s disbelief, aching from the pain of her broken arm, Katherine had listened stoically to the sermon, then realized she had to bury the attack inside her. Why should her father believe her if her mother didn’t?

Now that she was older, Katherine realized she should have gone to her father. He was protective of her, and distrustful of her mother’s confidantes. But that priest was long since gone, and there was no point in opening old wounds. Besides, how could she complain that one monk had attempted to rape her, while she allowed and encouraged the embrace of another? She could not bear the thought of her father’s contempt.

Holding her weak arm, trying not to trip through the rushes, Katherine approached James’s table and sat beside him. Her parents, her mother’s priest Brother Adams, Reynold, and Margery joined them. Margery took her seat on the other side of James, leaving Reynold no choice but to sit in the empty chair beside Katherine. She tried not to look at him, though her fingers shook as she sipped her wine. Margery smiled at her and she smiled back.

“The message you sent was well timed, James,” Lord Durham said as he split a loaf of bread. “I was already preparing for a journey south to His Highness.”

“How is King Richard taking the news of the Tudor’s landing?”

Katherine stiffened.

“He is relieved that the culmination is at hand. He has lived with Henry’s shadow over him for far too long.”

“So you think our king will be victorious?” James asked.

“How can he not? Henry is no warrior. He needs others for that. King Richard can fight his own battles.”

“He is a wise man to request your counsel, my lord,” James said. “But perhaps you can spare us a few days for your daughter’s wedding.”

There were gasps of pleasure from the dinner guests, but Katherine’s hearing seemed to fade away. Marriage to James. She always thought she’d have time to prepare—yet she’d had five years and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t lift her gaze from the table. James’s hands were folded loosely before him, as if he were at ease with his own power to change all their lives. On her other side, Reynold’s strong, rough hands were clenched in fists. Katherine remembered his manipulations, the pain she had suffered when she’d first seen the two brothers side by side. Though she understood him so much better, Reynold would have to solve his own problems.

“I have sent a messenger to King Richard,” James was saying, “to ask for a special license to marry during this time of impending war. By tomorrow Katherine and I will be man and wife.”

His hands enfolded hers, and Katherine tried to smile up into his face. The room retreated and there was only James, arrogant, confident of his desirability. She tried to imagine this man in her bed, doing the things Reynold had done to her. Her dinner seemed to creep back up her throat.

“Katherine,” her mother said, and Katherine tore her gaze away from her betrothed. “James had told us to bring your wedding finery, but I had no idea we would be so…rushed.”

Katherine felt her face drain of blood at the disapproving condemnation in her mother’s expression. The countess actually thought that there was an unsavory reason for James’s haste. She lowered her eyelids to hide the surge of anger that rose within her. Katherine had a sudden wild urge to stand up and confess all her sins, every last one, in such detail that her mother would run screaming from her presence forever.

“Now, Maud,” Lord Durham said, “war may soon be upon us. You would deny your daughter an early chance at happiness just for propriety?”

Lady Durham ignored her husband and leaned to whisper in her monk’s ear. Katherine’s insides crawled with revulsion. She felt Reynold’s light touch on her leg and drew a deep breath to control herself. He always seemed to know what she was feeling and how best to comfort her. It was difficult to remain angry with him, although she needed her anger to keep other, more frightening feelings at bay. Since he had told her about Edmund, her defenses seemed to be slowly unraveling.

James smiled. “I admit to my share of wedding nerves these past years. But now that I have had the chance to know your daughter better, I think myself a fool. I would have enjoyed her grace and companionship these many years. You cannot fault a man for realizing his errors and correcting them.”

Katherine’s father nodded with pleased good humor.

“If you have no objections,” James continued, “I would have our priest, Father Carstairs, perform the ceremony. My brother would be my first choice, but he is yet a novice, and I find I cannot wait for his final vows.”

Katherine felt a giggle welling up inside her, hysterical and struggling to be free. She brought her napkin to her mouth and pretended to cough. Her eyes watered as the laughter seemed to go on and on inside, reverberating through her soul.

Her mother stood up with icy grace. “If the wedding ceremony shall be performed tomorrow, Katherine and I have much to prepare. Come, Katherine.”

Lady Durham’s room was already furnished with her personal possessions and bed, unloaded earlier by servants. Her mother’s things had not changed during Katherine’s lifetime. No rug to sinfully warm the feet, wooden stools without the comfort of cushions, thin bed curtains that let in a draft to remind the occupant not to become too comfortable.

Katherine sat in her customary seat beside the roaring fire, wondering for the hundredth time if the licking flames were to remind her of eternal damnation. It was already too late, she thought with a mental sigh.

Her mother indicated a worn trunk beneath a shuttered window. “I brought your garments, and the sinful amount of cloth promised you in your marriage contract.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Katherine murmured, lowering her gaze in resignation.

“The bed linens you wove have been brought into the castle. From the appearance of the family apartments, you will be doing much weaving. It occupies the mind, as you well know.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Do you have any questions, Katherine?”

“Mother?” She raised her face in confusion. Her mother looked away.

“About marriage.”

Katherine stared in stupefaction. “I—well, nay.”

Lady Durham seemed to shrink a bit as she let out her breath. “You are fortunate James is kind to you. With your—affliction—I was worried you would only be able to attract old men or those interested in your fortune.”

“Which is exactly what happened,” Katherine said, forgetting herself in her bitterness.

Her mother looked sharply at her. “All men expect a good dowry. Only a vain, sinful woman believes she is the main inducement to marriage.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“I feel blessed that you have never had reason to be vain.”

Katherine looked away.

“Do you need to see the gown for your wedding? I must have it pressed.”

“I remember well what it looks like.” She had spent months designing and sewing her own creation with loving detail. She was beginning to think no man deserved it.

“Goodnight, Katherine.”

She looked back at her mother, who was holding a dark bedrobe. On the eve of Katherine’s wedding, the woman was still able to be coldly dispassionate. Katherine felt a piece of her heart die.

“Goodnight, Mother.”

Katherine lay in bed, eyes wide, staring unseeing at the ceiling. A sliver of moonlight penetrated her open shutters, but the fireplace was dark and silent. With a heavy sigh, she rolled onto her stomach. It was no use trying to sleep. Tomorrow was the day she’d spent her entire girlhood dreaming about. She should count herself lucky that James was a young man, and attractive. He treated her courteously even when no one was about. He was not miserly with his money—although that was the reason he obviously needed her dowry. Katherine would live well. But would she be happy?