When she had gone, Rowena said softly, and there was a sound of pleasure in her voice, “You have made an error, my lord. Arabella will accept almost anything but an affront to her dignity. She will not forgive you easily, if she forgives you at all.”
“We will see,” he said, and then he thought it made little difference if Arabella forgave him or not. He had entrenched himself here at Greyfaire now, and he did not intend to give up possession of this keep to anyone, let alone a silly chit of a girl. His own home, Northby Hall, had been burned to ashes. Nothing remained of the two-hundred-year-old house his family had built in the reign of Edward I, who had been known as “Long-shanks”. His livestock had disappeared over the Cheviot Hills with the Scots who had destroyed his house. Retaliation, he had no doubt, for his destruction of Eufemia Hamilton’s home.
If the truth be known, all he possessed was the land, what small income he could wring out of his few tenant farmers, his horse, and his arms. He liked Greyfaire. It might be small, but it was well-built, and could, he was more than certain, withstand a serious siege should anyone ever decide to pen him within the keep. Greyfaire would not be easily demolished by an enemy. The land about it was good, for a little valley surrounded the castle’s hill. There were several fine farmsteads, rich fields, and even an apple orchard. The king was paying him a small subsistence to husband the keep, which allowed him to retain his own men, but allowed for precious few luxuries. There was trouble coming, he knew, for he could smell it in the air as one could smell a city in a downwind.King Richard. Henry Tudor.He would have to make a choice eventually. Not too soon, but not too late, lest he lose out on all the favors the victor would grant those who had the good sense to support him. It was a good time for an ambitious man to be living, and he already had his toehold on the future.
Arabella Grey was a strong, healthy girl, for all her pale coloring. She should give him healthy children and live to raise them. He had had two previous wives. The first he had wed the year he was sixteen. She had been his orphaned cousin and only ten years of age. They had never cohabited, and his mother had hoped to raise Beth to be the kind of wife she thought her only son should have. Unfortunately, both his mother and his child-wife had died in the early spring of 1470 of some pestilence that was scourging the surrounding countryside. His father survived long enough to arrange a second marriage for him, which was celebrated that same December at his dying parent’s bedside. His second wife, Anne Smale, had died less than three years later, having never conceived despite his unrelenting attentions to her.
Sir Jasper Keane had found himself at twenty-one answerable to no one, and so he had pledged his fealty not to the most powerful nobleman in the north, the Earl of Northumberland, but to King Edward himself. He was loyal and self-effacing and served the king in a number of discreet matters. Though he was a lascivious man by nature, he hid that part of himself from the licentious king lest his baser nature be considered a weakness to be used against him. It was this seeming morality in the face of immorality that brought him to the attention of the king’s brother, Richard, the Duke of Gloucester. He was quick to pledge his service to Richard upon the king’s death, for Sir Jasper Keane was no fool, and he could see more advantage in allying himself to a grown man than kneeling at the feet of a child monarch.
His instincts had proven sound, although he had never expected the turn of events that followed. Jasper Keane knew he was of very little import in the world of English politics. He could only hope that eventually his dedicated service would be taken note of and rewarded. He sought but two things: gold and a healthy, hopefully well-connected wife. Some high lord’s bastard by a daughter of the merchant class perhaps. A daughter who was loved, or at least remembered with fondness. Greyfaire and Arabella Grey were far more than even he had dared to hope. Jasper Keane knew that his luck was riding high. He had been in the right place at the right time, and to add a sugared topping to it all, there were two pretty birds in the nest, not one.
He would have to take Rowena in hand, however. She was showing distinct signs of jealousy with regard to his courtship of her daughter. He had allowed Arabella several days to regain her equilibrium and was concerned when she did not come around, for women always did. A morning did not pass that he hadn’t had a small gift or trinket delivered to the girl who would be his wife. He picked these small treasures carefully from the loot of his border raids. Two gifts were of particular value, garnet ear bobs, and a beautiful pair of red Florentine leather riding gloves with tiny pearls sewn upon the turned-back cuffs. Other gifts were as simple as two cream-colored silk ribbons tied about a posy from the garden. More experienced women had melted before such wooing, so he was surprised when Arabella did not.
Then he had the good fortune to overhear Rowena encouraging Arabella to continue in her anger. Indeed, the mother actually incited the daughter in her attitude. Sir Jasper had sent his man, Seger, to waylay Lady Rowena and bring her in secret to his private chamber. There, Seger had stifled Rowena’s cries of agony while his master, having stripped his victim naked, proceeded to whip her fiercely with a leather tawse until her back and bottom were raw and bleeding. Then, before the very eyes of his captain, Sir Jasper Keane had satisfied his lusts in a particularly cruel manner.
When he had finished, he yanked Rowena up by her wheaten-colored hair and snarled, “You will soften your daughter’s manner toward me, sweet Row, even as you have encouraged her in her hard-heartedness. If you do not, I will not hesitate to kill you.”
“You would not,” she whispered. “You could not! I love you!”
“Let there be no mistake in our relationship, sweet Row. You are my whore. Nothing more. You will obey me. Some months back I had a highborn whore named Eufemia Hamilton of Culcairn. She defied me once too often, and I killed her even as I burned her family’s house to the ground. Do you understand me?”
Rowena shuddered. She did not want to believe him, but she could see in his eyes that he was telling her the truth. “How could you do such a thing?” she said, appalled. Appalled that she had allowed herself to love him. Appalled that the king had chosen this man for her daughter’s husband.
“They were Scots,” he answered simply, as if that was all the explanation necessary. “Now will you obey me, sweet Row? Or do you need another taste of the tawse?”
Rowena Grey nodded her assent wordlessly, in shock as she gathered up her garments and began to dress herself. She was heedless of Seger, heedless of Sir Jasper, heedless even of her bleeding back and buttocks. She sought but one thing. Escape from him. She needed time to think. She finished fastening the last garment and smoothed her hair into a semblance of order.
“Tonight,” he said. “You will go to your daughter tonight and tell her that you were wrong, that she must forgive me and cease holding her childish grudge. You will suggest to her that I love her, else my desire for her perfection would not be so strong. If I did not love her, I should not have beaten her in an effort to gain that perfection. You will tell her that, won’t you, sweet Row?”
“Yes, my lord,” Rowena said. Anything so that he would let her go.
Jasper Keane smiled his beautiful smile. “Then you may go, my pet,” he said in a kindly tone, and Rowena fled him.
But when she knelt in the chapel to think and to pray, she found that she could excuse him, even though she could now feel the burning ache he had inflicted on her; feel her shift alternately sticking to her back, only to pull away and irritate her painful wounds. She had been wrong to stoke the fires of Arabella’s great pride to deeper anger. She had been jealous of the attentions he was paying her daughter, she admitted to herself. It was only right he give his attention to Arabella. It was she who was to be his wife, not her. If Rowena had been foolish enough to fall in love with this man, then it was but God’s judgment upon her for enjoying their shared passion. Not for her liaison with Jasper, for that was but to protect Arabella, but she should not have enjoyed him. She sighed with resignation, and rising from her knees, went off to speak to her daughter.
Arabella, however, was not as easily convinced as her mother was as to Sir Jasper Keane’s motives. “I have heard unpleasant rumors these past few days,” Arabella said darkly.
“What rumors?”Lady Rowena asked, knowing her daughter’s firm moral stance on infidelity, and nervous as to what might have been said.
“It is said Sir Jasper is over fond of the ladies, Mama, and I can well believe it, for it is clear he thinks highly of himself. The king has said the choice is mine to make regarding this marriage. Would you have me wed to a lecher and a womanizer? The man I speak my vows with must be true to me.” Arabella’s jaw was firm with her determination.
“Father Anselm!” Rowena wailed. “You must help me explain.”
“Men are weak where the flesh is concerned, my daughter, and the world offers many temptations,” said Father Anselm, dutifully coming to Lady Rowena’s aid. “I will not deny that I, too, have heard that Sir Jasper enjoys feminine company perhaps more than he ought to, but he is, after all, a bachelor. Marriage to a beautiful and virtuous wife will settle him. Of that I am certain.”
“He beat me,” Arabella said, outrage sparkling in her green eyes with memory.
“There is no sin in a man beating his wife,” the priest said honestly. “It is man’s duty to teach his wife acceptable behavior. I see many good qualities in Sir Jasper, my child. He is loyal to the king, and he is a good soldier, FitzWalter says.”
“And you will forgive him, Arabella?” Lady Rowena said nervously.
“I do not know if I will forgive him, Mother. My father never beat you, nor did he beat me,” Arabella remarked. “I will allow the incident to be forgotten, however.”
“Ohh, Arabella, youmustbe more biddable!” Rowena counseled, looking to the priest for support. “Men do not like women who speak their minds as plainly as do you.”
“I cannot be meek and silent as you have always been, Mama,” Arabella said ominously. “I will make peace with Sir Jasper, but you must be satisfied with that, for I shall offer no more.”
Seger, hidden in a corner of the hall, reported the conversation in careful detail to his master even before Rowena came fluttering in to him with her carefully laundered version of her discussion with her daughter. He had already decided what he would do. It was unthinkable that a headstrong girl like Arabella Grey should unseat him from his position here at Greyfaire, but nothing, he had learned in his lifetime, was impossible. He kissed Rowena tenderly and said, “My pet, you have done well, and I am grateful for your intercession.” And she had simpered happily at him, her foolish love shining brightly in her pretty face.
