“Hello, Papa. Are you angry that I left?” Bek glanced timidly at his father.
“Nay. There were pages aplenty with the royal entourage. I made use of them.”
“That is good. She needed me to stay with her.”
Thayer could think of no reply to that. He said nothing more until they entered Roger’s chambers, where two baths had been set side by side before a strong fire. Curtly, he dismissed the maids. After Bek helped him and Roger out of their armor, he more gently dismissed his son.
“There is a decided chill to the air,” he muttered as he eased himself into the steaming bathwater.
“Aye, I felt it.” Roger climbed into his bath, sinking into the water with a sigh of pleasure.
“And I stood there like some dumb ox. Not one cursed sound could I utter.”
“She is still here, Thayer. She could well have gone to her family.”
“Aye, though ’tis difficult to be sure how much that signifies. So stiff. So polite. She has never been like that.”
“At least she still keeps your home.”
“That means something?”
Roger shrugged. “Many a wife shows her displeasure with cold bathwater and poor meals.”
“We have not eaten yet,” Thayer jested a little weakly.
“True, yet I cannot see her using that trick.” Roger sighed then looked at Thayer with honest sympathy. “Where your real trouble may come is in the bedchamber.”
Groaning, Thayer sank into the bathwater up to his shoulders. “Aye, so I fear. She will be as polite and dutiful there as she was when she greeted us. God’s teeth, but that will be more than I can bear,” he whispered, the mere thought of it twisting his heart.
“Then speak up, man. Tell her all of it.”
“Even though ’tis enough to make me look a raging ass?”
“Aye. Even though it does that. I can see no other way.”
“Nay, neither can I.” Thayer sighed heavily, dreading it.
Nevertheless, he clung to the hope that another way might be found. What happened in the garden had made him feel a complete fool. He knew he had hurt Gytha, but he still hoped she would think it over, understand what happened, and let it rest. While he knew he had to make some amends, he hoped to do so without reviewing the whole shameful event.
The thought that Gytha would bring no more to their bed than a sense of duty was an agony. He flinched from it, not wanting to believe the insult he had dealt could kill her passion. He needed it too much. It had become as necessary to him as breathing.
“Come, my friend,” Roger urged in a gentle voice as he dried off, “best climb out or you shall be sorely wrinkled.”
“I feel as if I face the scaffold.” Thayer muttered as he stepped from his bath to dry off.
“At times, trying to make amends with a lady can feel akin to that.”
“There are too many ways I can step wrong.”
“That is sadly true.” Dressed, Roger started out of the room. “I will be at your side when the meal is served, but now I hope to gain a moment alone with Margaret.”
Catching Roger by the arm, Thayer warned, “Do not play your games with that maid.”
“’Tis no game I play,” Roger answered, smiling faintly.
Reading the truth of his friend’s words in his face Thayer released him. “Then I wish you much good luck.”
Thayer sighed as he watched Roger leave. He was pleased for Roger, hoping he would find the rewards his heart sought. Yet, it seemed unfair that fate should place a budding love before his eyes while his marriage stumbled, failure looming on the horizon. As Gytha grew colder towards him, he would have to watch Roger and Margaret grow warmer towards each other. It was a punishment he was not sure he had the strength to endure. Shaking away such thoughts, he prepared himself to face Gytha.
