Chapter Thirteen #3
She seemed to be quite alone. De Baume was nowhere to be seen, which Aidric found strange, but it also put him on his guard.
The last thing he wanted was for Cambridge’s knight to see him with the Jewel.
He had to pass through a narrow corridor before entering the chamber where Cleodora was sitting, so he looked both ways to see that it was empty before proceeding.
Cleodora had her head down and he could hear her soft sobs.
Perhaps he was being stupid, but he didn’t think so.
A woman trying to manipulate him wouldn’t be weeping into her hands like this.
She’d be off trying to figure out how to force him to do what she wanted him to do. She wouldn’t be lamenting this way.
As if her heart was broken.
As if he’d hurt her terribly.
“I am sorry,” he finally whispered. “I did not mean what I said. I did not mean to offend you so, my lady. Please know that I am… sorry.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice, leaping to her feet. She was across the chamber by the time he finished, pressed back against the way and looking at him with startled eyes. But that shock quickly turned to suspicion and anger.
“Go away,” she spat. “You have said what you needed to say. I do not need to hear your empty apologies.”
He was genuinely remorseful. “They are not empty, I assure you,” he said.
“My lady, you must understand something. The men we serve are enemies. Anyone loyal to the man they serve would do what was asked of him, or her, and do it any way he or she could. I do not know you. I have only just met you. Mayhap I have earned your trust by protecting you from the robbers the other day, but you have earned no such trust with me. Does that make sense? You did not save me from any robbers.”
She was still edgy, angry, but his words had calmed her somewhat with their reason. “I suppose not,” she said. “But there is no way for me to do that for you. There is no way for me to establish trust. I do not know what else to do if my honesty has not been enough.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But you must understand that it is my duty to protect the king. Even against you. No matter how I feel about you personally.”
She cocked her head curiously, daring to wipe away some of the tears he’d caused. “What does that mean?” she said. “Why would you feel anything about me personally?”
He snorted because he thought it was a ridiculous question.
“How could I not feel something?” he said.
“Look at you—you are beautiful and kind and cultured. You are a woman who should be married to a great lord, with a great rank yourself as a gracious and benevolent lady. You are the ideal of a wife that every man wants and I look at you much as a man would look at a goddess—you are unreachable to mere mortals. Whatever spell you have cast, even unknowingly, has me caught up in it. And I suppose that is why I became angry with you—I’m angry with myself for wanting to believe everything you tell me. ”
By this time, her anger had vanished. She looked at him as if unsure what to say or do, puzzled but also shockingly touched. No one had ever said such things to her.
Not ever.
“I am simply the daughter of a much lesser lord,” she said quietly. “There is nothing special or highly noble about me. I just happened to have inherited my mother’s beauty, but that’s all I have—an appearance that seems to please men.”
He shook his head. “That is not all you have,” he said. “You have been trained for this position.”
She nodded. “Aye.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“Four.”
“And do you write poetry? Play a musical instrument?”
Hesitantly, she nodded. “I play the lute and the harp,” she said. “I was taught to do so. I also write music.”
“See?” he said. “You are very gifted. And the training for pleasure you received from Margit Barkwith?”
That seemed to unnerve her a little because he’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t something to hide. “You… you know about that?” she said.
“Everyone who knows about the Seven Jewels of London knows about that.”
She sighed heavily and averted her gaze, coming away from the wall and moving to reclaim the chair she’d been sitting on.
“That is one of the most shameful aspects of this,” she said. “You know that all of the Jewels were trained with Margit. She’s a very kind woman, actually, but she treats intimate things, personal things, with a very businesslike manner. I was untouched when I went to her.”
“No longer, I assume.”
She shook her head, though she had the courage to look him in the eye.
“Nay,” she said. “No decent man will want a wife who has been tainted like that, so that is something I have had to accept. I will not be a Jewel forever. Most of them do not last more than a few years. After my tenure is over, I will have to explain to anyone who is interested in me as a wife that I have been trained for a man’s pleasure.
I suppose some might find that an asset, but some will not. ”
“And some might not care at all,” he said. “A good man, one who is interested in you as a woman, will not care. He will only care about the content of your heart and character, not what you were forced to do against your will.”
She wanted to smile at him but didn’t dare, mostly because the air between them was still brittle. She wasn’t sure if he was still distrustful toward her or if his stance was easing.
“I hope so,” she said. “I always assumed I would marry and have children. That is all I really wanted, to be truthful. A good man, a decent man, and a home.”
“Then mayhap you may yet find it,” he said. “Do not give up hope.”
“I have not,” she said. “But I must live through my current circumstances first.”
That brought them back to the subject at hand, the very reason why they’d met at Adelie’s. Aidric took a couple of steps into the chamber and faced her.
“Is everything you told me the truth?” he said, his voice low. “Do you truly fear what Cambridge will do if you do not obey his orders?”
She nodded, without hesitation. “He has a black soul,” she said. “He is capable of great atrocities, for I have seen them. He is not a man of God, my lord. He serves himself more than anyone, or anything, else.”
“And your father?” Aidric said. “He has threatened him?”
She nodded, with resignation. “My father has a sickness,” she said.
“He was given the juice of the poppy in the Levant for a wound and he must have it now to survive. If he does not, he becomes very ill. Cambridge knows this and makes sure he is supplied with the poppy juice as long as I am obedient.”
Aidric nodded in understanding. “I’ve seen men become dependent on that remedy,” he said. “I am sorry to hear your father is one of them.”
She shrugged. “To be clear, I do not love my father,” she said. “He has never been particularly kind or good to me, but I do not wish to see him punished because of me.”
“And Cambridge knows this.”
“He does.”