SirenSong Read Online Free PDF Page B

The
steward was right, of course. It was completely out of the question for the
heir of Aix to marry a little nobody from England. It did not occur to Raymond
at the moment that that was a strange thought for him to have. Marriage had
never come into his head before when he had been attracted by the daughter of
an unimportant knight. His normal reaction had been to begin a campaign to get
what he wanted. Marriage had nothing to do with desire, or even with love, although,
if one were fortunate, love grew out of marriage. Marriage was a thing planned
and negotiated to tighten alliances, transfer land, or increase and consolidate
power. It was not a thing a young man of Raymond’s position considered on his
own. In fact, Raymond had been betrothed for many years to the daughter of a
Gascon noble. He was free only because the girl had died a few months
previously.
    Until this moment, Raymond had hardly thought of his
betrothed’s death. He had not known the girl, had never seen her. They had been
betrothed six years ago, when she was two years old. Had she lived, she would
have come to Aix when she was ten. Raymond would have married her when she was
twelve, coupled with her after her first flux, if she had not yet begun her
regular bleeding, and hoped they would grow fond of each other.
    Suddenly, Raymond was aware of a violent distaste for such a
marriage. He was shocked at the feeling, scorned himself for being so unseated
from reason by a pair of bright blue eyes, yet he never once thought of taking
for himself what it would have been natural to take in other circumstances.
There was something in Sir William’s manner, something in Alys herself, that
said flatly, These are not such people . This girl was not for
sale for money or advantage.
    The knowledge brought a sense of loss, of something
beautiful slipping away. To shake off the ridiculous notion, Raymond turned his
full attention to the steward. He had been surprised when Martin first
introduced himself but had not taken the time to wonder why so unsuitable a
creature should be steward even of a poor knight’s household. He had been
trying to think of a speech to make to induce Sir William to accept him, if he
raised any objections.
    “Are you come in service to the lord?” the steward asked as
they walked toward the northeast tower.
    “Yes,” Raymond answered.
    The question seemed odd, but then he remembered that Alys
had not said he was a hireling knight, only that he had come to stay with them.
Raymond’s heart contracted. She was as kind and good as she was beautiful, for
she implied that he was a guest so that he should be treated with greater honor
than might be accorded to a knight in service.
    “What sort of man is Sir William?” Raymond went on hastily,
not thinking that it was a stupid question to ask a servant who obviously could
not speak ill of his master. He was only trying to push the thought of Alys out
of his mind.
    “The kind of man who would find a place of usefulness and
honor for such as me,” Martin replied.
    Raymond was shocked into attentiveness. The words could have
been sneering and bitter, but they were not. There was passion in them, a
passion of devotion. Martin’s large brown eyes, his one beautiful feature,
examined Raymond gravely, and then he nodded as if he had come to a decision.
    “You were recommended by another lord, one who does not know
my master well, I must suppose, or he would have told you how good Sir William
is,” Martin went on. “You would learn soon enough by being with him, but it is
my pleasure to tell you. You see me, crooked of back and twisted of limb and
face, so I was born and, being useless, left for God to care for at the gate of
Hurley Abbey. There Father Martin took me in, he was abbot in that time, and
out of his holiness he gave me his own name and did not let me die.”
    The steward paused. Raymond opened his mouth, but there was
nothing to say, and he shut it again. Martin smiled at him,