Honor in the Dust (25 page)

“A dead poet, if he doesn't end his pursuit and the king finds out about it.”

Three days later, Stuart had the opportunity to put Charles Vining's assertion to the test. He had followed the crowd that was watching the king playing at bowls. Also in the crowd was the poet Wyatt, and Stuart heard an interchange between the two. During the game, Wyatt had displayed a trinket belonging to Anne, and King Henry produced a ring that she had given him. The atmosphere grew tense.

It had never occurred to Henry, Stuart saw, that Anne might give one of her favors to another man. Henry could not conceal his anger. He fixed his eyes on Wyatt and said gruffly, “You have been deceived, sir.”

Charles, standing next to Stuart, whispered, “Well, that's the end of whatever romance there was between Wyatt and Anne Boleyn.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Why, the Boleyns and the Wyatts depend on royal good will, and you won't find either Anne or Thomas doing anything to endanger that. No, I wager we'll see Wyatt melt sadly and wisely into the background.”

“I'll take that wager. A sovereign?”

“Make it two, you fool. I'm happy to take your money. You must have noticed the king's infatuation with Anne Boleyn,” Charles insisted. “Why should you be surprised?”

“I just don't believe she's that kind of young woman.”

Charles stared at his friend in disbelief. He started to argue and then changed his mind. “Well, time will tell. And when it does, I'll have two new coins in my pocket.”

“Isn't there anything that can be done for this gossip, Charles? It is most damaging to Mistress Anne.”

“No, there isn't. Henry doesn't burden himself with the morals of ordinary men. He thinks he's above such things. It's merely a part of courtly life. You know that by now.”

“But Henry is married to Catherine. Such idle stories will hurt her.”

“But if Henry pays no attention to God or man, why should he pay attention to his wife? And if he decides that Anne Boleyn will be his mistress, then it's as good as done.”

“There's a man to see you at the gate, Master Winslow.”

“Who is it?”

“Don't know, sir.”

Stuart went to the gate and found Orrick, one of the Stoneybrook servants. One look at his face told him that bad news was his errand. “What is it, Orrick?”

“It's your grandmother, sir, Lady Leah. She's very sick. Your father said to bring you at once.”

Fear filled him. His whole family depended upon Lady Leah.
What will happen to Mother and Father and Quentin if she dies?

“I'll come at once. Let me get a few things, and I'll fetch a horse from the stable.”

Stuart tumbled off his horse and threw his reins to a Stoneybrook stableboy who said, “I'll take care of the animal, sir.”

As soon as Stuart came into the hall, he saw his father sitting at the oak table, his hands clasped and misery on his face.

“How is she, Father?”

“She's dying, Son.”

“Surely not! There must be something that can be done. Is the doctor here?”

“Come and gone. There's nothing he can do. It's the sweating sickness.”

The words brought a cold chill to Stuart. The sweating sickness was much like the plague, a lurking danger every spring and summer. Stuart had seen the disease even among the court.
It struck without warning. Its victims broke out in a heavy sweat and emitted a horrible odor. They turned red all over and developed a high fever. In the last stage a rash appeared, and death soon followed.

And now his beloved grandmother had it.

“Are you certain?”

“The doctor is. Just pray God it doesn't affect the rest of the family.”

“Where are Mother and Quentin?”

“At a neighbor's. I don't want them anywhere near. But I knew you'd want to see her, regardless of the danger.”

“You were right. Thank you.”

Stuart went to the bedroom his grandmother favored. He saw there was no hope. She looked like a shrunken mummy, and she was covered with red blotches. Going to her bed, he knelt down and whispered, “Grandmother, can you hear me?”

There was a long silence, and then Lady Leah's eyes opened. Her voice was so faint that he had to lean forward. “I'm glad you came, Stuart. I have a final message for you.”

“What is it, Grandmother?”

“You must learn to love God.” The words were broken; speaking took all of her strength. “And you must leave the court.”

There was no answer for that except “God bless you, Grandmother. You've been such a blessing to us.”

“Get your father.”

Instantly he jumped up and ran to open the door. “Father, come at once!”

Claiborn came in and went to the other side of Leah's bed. Neither of them seemed to fear death.

She reached up her hands, and each man took one. “You have been my treasure. Claiborn, you are a true man of God.” She said a few more words to him, and then her voice faded as she said, “Follow Jesus, Stuart. Always follow Jesus.” There was
a long silence, and after a time she whispered something that Claiborn could not hear. “What did she say, Stuart?”

Stuart's throat was tight, and his lips were dry. “She said, ‘I'm going to be with my Savior.'”

That was the last word spoken by Leah Winslow, and shortly afterward the two men rose to their feet. “She was a woman of God, and she loved you dearly,” Claiborn said. “Never forget what she said.”

Stuart's throat was so tight that he could not answer. He just nodded. “Yes,” he finally managed to say. As he left the room, he knew that something had changed that could never be brought back again—at least not in this world.

“Well, the old woman is finally gone,” Edith said almost carelessly.

Lord Edmund was stricken, for he had cared, in his fashion, after his mother. He was shocked by his wife's callousness. “She was a good woman,” he said.

“Of course, I know that. I didn't mean to be cruel.”

“You never cared for her.”

“I did! I just didn't show it the way others do,” Edith said.

“The lawyer was here this afternoon,” Edmund said. There was something furtive in his manner of speaking, and Edith gave him a sharp glance.

“Why are you looking so odd? She left you all the land, didn't she?”

Edmund cleared his throat. “No, she didn't. She left that tract of land to Claiborn—and the house too.”

“She couldn't have!” Edith's face flushed, and anger poured out of her. “It's yours by right!” Ives moved behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No, that acreage was hers all along, I'm afraid. That's what the lawyer says. She could leave it to anyone she wanted to. We'll
have to persuade Claiborn to put the land in his will in order to unite Stoneybrook at some point, make her stronger.”

“He'll never do that,” Edith snapped.

They argued and tried to find a plan, but Edmund finally said heavily, “There's nothing we can do. The land is theirs.” He was upset, but he had halfway expected it. “She loved Claiborn the best. She always did.”

Claiborn looked out the window but saw nothing, for his thoughts were of his mother. Grace came to stand beside him, and said gently, “She saved us, didn't she?”

“Yes, she did. I don't know what would have happened to us if she hadn't brought us here.”

“What will happen to the land now?”

“This land? Why, it's ours, Grace. Mother's tract of land, this house. She showed me her will.”

“You mean we don't have to live under Edmund's rule?”

“No, not in the least. We're freer then ever. We can elect to separate the land from Stoneybrook, till this soil as our own.”

“Thank God! I could never tell you how hard it was for me seeing Edmund mistrust you as he did.”

“Well, I still have hopes of Edmund's changing. I'm hoping that this final act of mother's will encourage him to take another look at me, at us.”

“Edith won't be pleased.”

“No, but we can live with that.” He took her in his arms. “We've followed where God has led us, and see what it's brought us.”

“Our own home. Ours, Claiborn. Only ours.” She shook her head. “I never really thought I'd see the day again, short of returning to Ireland. It almost makes me hopeful enough to join you in your hope that you and your brother can someday be reconciled.”

He pulled her closer. “God will see to it in time. I'm confident in him.”