Castle of the Heart (14 page)

Meredith, finished with Reynaud’s head
wounds, stooped to see what Arianna was doing.

“Soak it with the wine first,” she advised.
“That way it won’t hurt as much.”

“You two will kill me with your kindness,”
Reynaud groaned as the acidic wine seeped into his raw flesh and
the last of the linen was removed. “I think I’d rather drink that
wine than bathe in it.”

Arianna tried to laugh at his brave joke, but
could not. Reynaud’s leg was much worse than it had been the day
before, and she had to grit her teeth together and force herself to
keep a blank face while she helped Meredith to clean and dress
it.

Afterward, when Joan arrived with the omelet
and sat cajoling Reynaud into eating all of it, and the bread and
ale she had brought along as well, they took the basket of soiled
bandages to the laundry to boil them in water infused with
cleansing herbs. This separate building near the kitchen was steamy
and hot. There were wash-tubs, and boiling cauldrons, and a space
fitted with wooden rods on which clean linens and clothing could be
hung to dry. Meredith and Arianna stripped off their woolen outer
dresses, tied huge aprons over their linen underdresses, and went
to work.

“Do you really believe Reynaud will live?”
Arianna asked.

“He must.” Meredith gave the cauldron a stir
with a long wooden paddle. “We need more fuel on this fire,
Arianna. That’s enough, thank you. I will not let Reynaud die. He
is too important. We owe him too much. Now, these cloths are done.
We’ll rinse them in cold water and hang them over there, out of the
way, until we need them again. It’s better to dry old bandages in
the sunlight, but that can’t be done in winter, can it?”

They spent the better part of each day caring
for Reynaud and preparing medicines either to feed to him or to put
on his wounds. Arianna began to appreciate how extensive Meredith’s
knowledge was, and under Meredith’s supervision she began to make
the simplest preparations. It was tiring, exacting work. There was
so much to remember each time she began to measure and stir the
herbs, innumerable formulas for her to recite over and over again
until they were memorized so well they could never be forgotten.
Arianna was grateful when it was time to drop into her bed at
night, and she slept deeply, with no repetition of her miserable
first night at Afoncaer.

Except for the midday meal, when all the
inhabitants of the castle gathered in the great hall, she seldom
saw Thomas. He spent most of his time with Guy and the other men.
Geoffrey had returned to Tynant, and Cristin had been ordered to
spend her days with Joan, learning the womanly skills she would
need to know when she married and had her own household to
manage.

“I hate cooking,” she confided to Arianna.
“I’d much rather go riding.”

“You can’t do that when it’s snowing all the
time,” Arianna said sensibly, “so you may as well learn something
useful. The vegetable stew you made yesterday was, well,
interesting.”

“I’m glad Geoffrey wasn’t here to taste it.”
And Cristin went off to try her hand at kneading bread.

Everyone who lived at Afoncaer had work to
do, daily chores that were essential to the smooth running of the
castle. All except Selene. She spent a great deal of her time alone
in her chamber, or alone in the chapel, or sitting before one of
the fires in the great hall.

“Meredith is so busy,” Arianna said after a
week had passed. “Couldn’t you take some of her duties off her
shoulders, help her just a little? You could see to the bed linens,
or check the food supplies, or at least do some mending or
spinning.”

“Joan can do all of that.” Selene watched the
flames devour a log.

“Joan is busy, too,” Arianna cried. “We are
all working hard. Only you sit idle.”

“You were brought here,” Selene said, “to be
a companion to me, someone near my own age in a strange new place,
yet I scarcely see you. You spend all your time with that
disgusting invalid.”

“You could visit him occasionally, Selene.
You could read to him from your Book of Hours. I’m sure he would
like that.”

“Go into that room?” Selene shuddered. “I
would probably faint from the smell and the awful sight of him. How
can you bear it, every single day? Ugh.” She shuddered again.

“I hate it here, Arianna. It rains or snows
all the time. My bones ache from the dampness. And life is so rough
here, so unlike court, or even Brittany. There is no suitable
society for a gentlewoman,” Selene went on. “There are only a few
ladies married to Guy’s household knights, and they are scarcely
worth talking to. There are no noble ladies, or pages, not even
another nobleman’s daughter fostering here.”

“Of course not,” Arianna cried, stung to
defense of her new home. “Wales is a dangerous place, and this is a
fortress, not a royal court. You never used to care about such
things! You wanted to become a nun and renounce all worldly
pleasures.”

“But then,” Selene went on as though Arianna
had never spoken, “after all, who would send an innocent girl-child
to learn manners and the duties of a chatelaine from an ignorant
Saxon peasant wench? And what could she possibly teach a page?”

“Don’t speak like that!” Arianna exclaimed.
“Meredith has shown you nothing but kindness, and she has proven
herself a worthy friend to me.”

“I,” Selene declared, “shall never make a
friend of her.”

“How can you dislike someone you scarcely
know?” Arianna was becoming more and more upset. “You’ve made no
effort to be agreeable to Meredith, or to anyone else. She and Guy
must be regretting they let Thomas marry you.” Arianna shut her
lips tightly together. She should not have said that. She did not
want to quarrel with Selene. She had been sent to Afoncaer to be
Selene’s friend, not her enemy.

“They may regret the marriage as much as I
do,” Selene said calmly, “but not my dowry. They are very happy to
have those gold coins. You see, I know my worth to them.”

Arianna, afraid she would say something so
sharp it would destroy their friendship, excused herself and went
back to Reynaud. She could not understand Selene. She had
everything any young woman might want. She should have been happy,
or at least content, yet she drifted about Afoncaer like some sad
wraith, doing nothing useful. Arianna thought something was preying
on Selene’s mind, but she could not imagine what it might be.

Unknown to her, Thomas thought so, too. He
had been patient for over a week since Selene asked him to leave
her alone. Each night she made some new excuse, and it was torture
to lie next to her in their marriage bed and not touch her.

“I’ll do that no more,” Thomas said on the
eighth morning. “Tonight we will make love, Selene. And tomorrow
you will begin to act as my wife should, and do some useful work
instead of sitting about in this room so indifferent to everything
that happens around you.”

Selene glared at him, then stalked out of
their room and went to the chapel without speaking a word. But that
evening she sat looking at him over the rim of her wine goblet and
there was a faint flush in her cheeks. Thomas was encouraged,
believing that she had been thinking about his promise all day and
that once they were alone in their bed she would accept him with
the passion he knew she felt. Then he realized how much wine she
had been drinking.

She staggered when she stood up at evening’s
end, and if he had not caught her, she would have fallen stepping
down from the dais. He kept his arm around her until they reached
the spiral stairs.

“Shall I carry you?” he asked.

“I can walk, my lord,” she responded with
pathetic dignity, reaching for the newel stone. She made it up the
steps, slowly and none too steadily, Thomas following close behind
her in case she should fall. When they reached their bedchamber at
last, Selene grabbed at the bedpost to hold herself upright.

“You may leave me now,” she said, dismissing
him as though he were a servant.

“The only place I am going,” Thomas declared,
“is into that bed, with you. Take off your clothes, Selene.”

“I won’t.”

“If you do not, I’ll do it for you. I won’t
be gentle, either. You’ve tried my patience too far, woman. You are
my wife, and tonight I’ll lay with you.”

“Please, no. Please, Thomas.”

He ignored the plea, and the frightened look
on her face. He pulled off the long, loose robe he wore indoors. In
spite of the heat given off by the two braziers Selene kept burning
at all times, the room was cold. The wind rattled the shutters.
Thomas could see a fine sifting of snow on the floor beneath the
narrow windows. Another heavy snowstorm had arrived, and howling
winds echoed around the tower keep. Thomas shivered, wanting the
warmth of the furs on his bed and the heat of his wife’s
passion.

Selene hadn’t moved. She still clung to the
bedpost. He saw her run her tongue across her lips as she stared at
his naked body. She tightened her hands on the smooth, rounded wood
she held, moving her fingers up and down on it, staring at him, and
he knew what her emerald eyes had looked upon. She might deny it,
but she wanted him, too. This reluctance was a game she played. It
was stimulating, but it was over.

“I said undress, Selene.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m drunk.”

“You are that, but it’s not as bad as you
pretend. I know. I watched you in the hall. You have no excuses
left, my lady. Take off your clothes.”

She looked at him and saw in his face that he
meant to have her tonight and every night for the rest of their
lives if he wanted her. The delays were over. There was nothing
else she could do. And now, tonight, the thing within her, the
demon she had fought for so long, would gain ascendancy, would take
over her life. From this night on, the Selene who stood before her
husband trembling while she slowly, unwillingly, removed her
clothing, that Selene would no longer exist, but would be gone
forever. She stifled a sob. He would not see her cry. She still had
her pride. While she was still Selene. For a moment or two
more.

She laid down the last garment. She was
naked. She did not feel the cold that was making her shiver.

“I am ready, my lord,” she said, facing him
bravely.

“Come here.”

She made herself walk to him, until their
bodies just touched, and then she stopped. He caught her face
between his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, and Selene felt
herself begin to vanish, and the other Selene begin to take her
place. Her heart was beating wildly. That was always the first
sign.

“My sweet love,” Thomas whispered. “Put your
arms around me.”

She obeyed. She had no choice, and in that
obeying she was lost, as she had been lost each time he made love
to her. She felt his hard body against hers, felt his need, sensed
it as though she were a great distance away, standing outside
herself and watching Selene and Thomas. She moaned, a soft,
involuntary sound, one he did not hear as his mouth touched hers,
but Selene heard it just as she vanished and the other one, the
wicked creature inside her, took over her body.

She strained against him, digging her fingers
into his back. His mouth was bruising hers, but she did not care.
She opened her lips and took his thrusting tongue inside her,
accepting him, needing him so desperately she thought she would die
of it.

“I want you,” she moaned. “I want you,
Thomas.”

With a cry of triumph, he swept her off her
feet and carried her to the bed. He placed her there as though she
were some great treasure, and then he lay down beside her. He
buried his face in the soft curve of her throat, and gathered her
close in his arms. He would have been gentle with her and
restrained himself, though his need was great after two weeks of
abstinence, broken only by the brief episode at Wenlock. He tried
to hold back, but Selene would not have it. She hurried him, her
searching hands stirring the fires he tried to keep banked, her
kisses scalding his body, her mouth and tongue hot on his manhood,
her ferocious passion driving him beyond all possibility of
control. He felt her frantic motions, saw the look of pleasure on
her lovely face as he possessed her, though at that moment he was
not certain whether he had entered her or she him. They were one,
that was all that mattered. He heard her cry out, felt the pulsing
waves that wracked her body, and then he knew nothing but pleasure
so intense it was painful.

“Not Selene. Not Selene.”

Thomas dragged himself back from wherever he
had been during the last few wild minutes, and tried to gather his
wits together. She was doing it again, and he had to know what it
meant.

“Selene did not. Would not. Selene is
gone.”

His wife lay beside him, her face colorless,
one tear trickling from under closed lashes.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Selene,
speak to me.”

Slowly the thick, black lashes lifted. She
looked lost and confused.

“Why do you say such things? You do it every
time we make love.”

“She’s gone.” The husky voice was just a
little sad. “She has left me.”

“Who is gone?” Thomas wanted to shake her,
but he knew there was something very wrong here, and he feared
hurting her.

“Selene.” Her voice was so low he had to bend
closer to hear it.

“You are Selene.” Ice prickled up and down
his spine. He did not know this woman. He possessed her body, that
was all. They were still strangers, and the mysterious air about
her that had so intrigued him was, on this icy, wind-howling night,
more frightening than exciting.

Selene drew a deep breath, as though she had
no air in her lungs at all, then let it out slowly. The blankness
cleared from her eyes.

“Thomas. Well, you’ve had your way.”