“Is it the office of a friend to come between a man and his betrothed bride, even with a single look?”
Then he looked ashamed. He said in a low voice:
“It was not meant. I promise you.”
“You could not help it?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you could not. I do not think I blame you. But you are a free man. You can make an end of it now.”
He did not speak. I said:
“I claim this for our friendship’s sake.”
The wind blew cold down Catherine’s Hill and our horses stamped their feet. Edmund spoke at last.
“I will end it.”
I reached across and clasped his arm. “I will not forget this! And now, I have a mission for you.”
He looked startled. “A mission?”
“To Oxford. To talk in public with its Prince; in private with its Prince in Waiting. I look for two alliances, one open, the other secret.”
Edmund said: “How long will the mission last?”
“I will expect you back in the spring. We will watch the Contest of the Young Captains together.”
“And when would you have me go?”
“Today.”
“Be open with me,” he said. “It is because of Blodwen that I am to be sent away? Such a mission would be best in older hands than mine.”
“You have been too free with her. This you admit. You said you could not help it and I believe you. All things wither without nourishment. It is better that you do not see her for a time.”
I twitched my horse’s rein, turning her head back toward the city. Edmund said: “Hold, Luke.”
“Well?”
“Have you spoken to Blodwen of this?”
It might have been better to lie, but I could not.
“Yes.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I asked her if she had betrayed me with you. She swore she had not. I knew she spoke truth.”
“And what else?”
I echoed him: “What else?”
His voice had changed. There was boldness in it.
“You put a question to her and got your answer. But still you need to send me away to Oxford. Is it only my weakness you fear? What reassurance did you seek from Blodwen, and not find?”
I said: “What passes between Blodwen and me is our concern, not yours.”
“You are wrong, Luke! I will not go on your mission until I have put a question to her. And if her answer is what I think it may be, then you must find another man for Oxford.”
I felt cold again: a cold sharper and more inward than that which the wind scoured from the ugly sky.
“You will not try to take her from me.”
“Not unless she puts out a hand to me. But if she does, nothing will stop me taking it.”
“Not friendship?”
“Not anything!”
He spoke exultantly. I said:
“And if I beg you?”
All my body trembled. I felt tears start in my eyes, and blinked them back.
He said: “Do not beg for something which I cannot give.”
“Cannot, or will not?”
“What difference is there? There are strengths beyond our own.”
I said, wonderingly, to myself almost: “I never doubted your loyalty. I would have doubted my own sooner. I know my weaknesses and I gave you best in friendship. But I could not do such injury to a friend. I would die first.”
The day was lighter, and I saw him flush. He said:
“You are my friend, but Blodwen I love. There is a difference in our natures. I do not think you have ever truly loved. Or ever could.”
“I loved you,” I said, “who were my friend.”
He shook his head. “Talking does no good.”
“Listen,” I said. “Forget friendship, if it means so little to you. Have you thought of the harm that can come from this? Not just to us, but to the city.”
“You have got your city,” he said. “Keep it. We do not want it.”
He linked her desires with his, as though of right. Pain raked its claws through me. I said:
“Even if I would, I could not let you have her. I am Prince of the city and she, daughter of the King of the Wilsh, is to be my bride. If it is not held to I am no Prince, and chaos follows.”
“Then let it follow. You cannot stop us, Luke.”
“I am Prince,” I said. “I have some powers.”
We rode together back to the city and in silence. The guard saluted us again at the East Gate, and I bade him bring the Sergeant. He was out of the guardhouse on the instant. His name was Tunney, one of Harding’s men, old for a warrior but still powerful. I pointed to Edmund.
“Arrest him.”
• • •
Blodwen said: “Luke, what have you done?”
Her face was white and she showed signs of haste. She had come unannounced to where I sat in my parlor. It was early still. Outside the window a few small flakes of snow drifted slowly down.
I said: “In what way, lady?”
“They say that Edmund is under guard. Because of what I said last night? I promise you . . .”
I thought she might lie, to save him, and did not want to hear it. I cut across her words.
“I gave an order to a Captain and he refused to obey it. That is all and that is enough.”
“What order?”
I told her of the mission to Oxford. Her eyes were on my face as I spoke, and I watched her watching me. At the end she said only:
“What will you do to him?”
“A Prince must have obedience from his Captains, in peace as much as in war. You know this. Disobedience imperils the city and merits death. But I will do him no harm. I will only banish him.”
“You cannot do it, Luke.”
“I must,” I said, “or see a man walking the streets of Winchester who has defied my authority. Would you rather I kept him in perpetual imprisonment? Even that would be too great a risk to take.”
“The order should not have been given,” she said. “It was not done for the city but for your private ends.”
I shook my head. “There is no difference.”
“You believe that?”
“A Prince must, or he is no Prince.”
I put strength into my voice to answer her, but at heart I felt weary, and a dull sickness racked me.
Blodwen said: “What am I in this? A thing? A creature to do her master’s bidding, and get a smile from him and perhaps a bauble or two in reward? Are we all things to the Prince of Winchester?”
“I do what has to be done.”
“And must we dance to the tune you think you hear? Last night you asked me to swear I did not love Edmund, and I would not do it. Because of that you ordered him on this mission. Did you trust me so little?”
I made no answer. She said:
“We are not puppets, though you would have us so. I do not know what would have happened if you had left well alone. It is no news to me that Edmund loves me, and no surprise that he will defy his Prince for my sake. But I have known his mind better than I knew my own. I would not swear it, not because it was untrue but because I did not know if it were true or not. My father proclaimed our betrothal and I would not willingly thwart his wishes. But I tell you this, Luke: if Edmund is banished then I will go with him and share his exile.”
Her words lashed me, with fear as well as pain. In combat I had never known such terror. I looked at her face, unsmiling, lacking any gentleness. I wanted to admit defeat and in doing so beg mercy. I might have still won her if I had. Compassion might not show in her face but it was in her heart always. In defeat I might have conquered.
But I could not trap her with her own pity. I said:
“You may not do it, lady. I am still Prince here, and forbid it.”
She smiled then, but with no softening.
“I am not your subject, Luke of Winchester.”
“You are in my city.”
“My father is Cymru, King of the Wilsh. If I do his bidding it is with consent. No other ruler can bind me.”