The Marriage Prize (48 page)

Rosamond's eyes widened in horror and a scream was torn

from her throat as she saw the black forelegs rise above her.

Suddenly, she saw the face of the rider. He had the Devil’s

own dark beauty with jet black hair and green eyes! Then,

helplessly, she tumbled beneath the murderous hooves.

Rosamond's eyes flew open. Slowly she became aware of her

surroundings. She was lying in her bed, her hair a wild tangle,

her night rail twisted about her body so that her long legs were

bared. She let out a ragged sob and sat up. She knew she

had had her trampling dream; its terror lingered al about her.

But this time she had seen the face of Death, and it was

Rodger de Leyburn's.

******************

Gilbert de Clare at his side, his eyes rose to the castle

parapets. When he saw the 280

figure of Rosamond, his arm lifted in greeting, and he

anticipated her running down to the courtyard to warmly

welcome him home. When she did not come, he assumed

that she had seen Gilbert and as a dutiful chatelaine was

preparing for their guest.

When he entered the hal , he found her beside Master Burke

waiting to greet their visitor. In a jubilant mood, Rod picked her

up, swung her about, and gave her a lingering kiss of greeting.

Rosamond stiffened. "My lord, please."

"No need to be al formal in front of Gilbert; he's come to see

our beautiful son!"

Rosamond dipped a curtsy to the redheaded youth she had

known since he was a child. "My lord earl, welcome to

Tewkesbury." She gave him a formal kiss of greeting. "I'l go up and see if the baby is awake. Please make yourself

comfortable."

When Rodger fol owed her upstairs, Rosamond's heart sank,

for she did not want to be alone with him. For two days she

had walked about in a trancelike state, total y preoccupied

with the terrible accusations Alyce de Clare had made. One

minute she total y rejected the charges as heinous lies, the

next minute, a shadow of suspicion clouded her thoughts. She

told herself that the instant she saw him, she would know the

truth, and if not, she would confront him. But because he had

Gilbert with him, she could not.

Rodger's arms enfolded her from behind. "Sweetheart, I

missed you sorely, but the meeting between Edward and

Gilbert was a complete success! He's agreed to join forces

with us, and word is spreading like wildfire that Edward has

escaped. I'l tel you later how cleverly it was done."

As he lifted his son from the cradle, the look of love and

tenderness that suffused his dark face made Rosamond's

heart turn over. His hands were so gentle as he held his child,

she told herself that it was impossible for those same hands

to have kil ed Giles. Once more Rosamond assured herself

that Alyce de Clare had deliberately lied to her.

They descended together to show off their prized possession,

and Gilbert de Clare was suitably impressed, declaring that

he would be the child's godfather and suggesting that Gilbert

should be one of the boy's names, even though the infant

wasn't a redhead.

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After the evening meal, when Rosamond took her son upstairs

to feed him, Rodger remained below with his guest. She

hoped that they would talk late into the night and that she

would be asleep when Rodger came up. She felt numb and

emotional y drained, knowing that the lies Alyce had told her

were erecting a barrier between herself and her husband.

When he final y came into their chamber, Rosamond

pretended to be asleep. Through veiled lashes, she watched

him stand over the cradle for a long time, then he gently

rocked his son. Listening to his murmured endearments, she

might have fal en in love with him al over again if her heart had

not been encased in icy dread.

She could tel that he was trying not to disturb her when he

climbed into bed, and when she heard his even breathing, she

let out a sigh of relief and final y succumbed to slumber.

Rosamond awoke, screaming. In an instant, Rodger was

awake, holding her securely against his heart. As she fought

him, he tried to calm her. "It's al right, love, I'm here, I'm here!"

A ragged sob escaped her lips. "I had the trampling dream."

Rodger brushed back the tangled hair from her face. "Tel

me," he murmured tenderly.

"I saw his face clearly.... The rider was you!"

Rosamond saw the look of raw pain and regret in his eyes

before he quickly masked it. It was a look that told her

something he dreaded had come to pass.

Twenty-six

When she awoke in the morning, Rodger was already gone

from their chamber. She reasoned that he and Gilbert would

break their fast together, since they would have so many plans

and decisions to make before Gilbert left for Gloucester.

During the night, when she had awakened screaming from the

trampling dream, she had avoided a confrontation and

al owed her husband to comfort her, but now in the clear light

of day, Rosamond realized she could not go on in uncertainty.

She must prove to herself that Alyce de Clare had been lying.

She searched for Griffin and found him at the forge with many

other men-at-arms, who were repairing armor and sharpening

their weapons. She beckoned to him, and they walked away

from the others.

"May I help you, my lady?"

"I hope so, Griffin; I know you have been with Sir Rodger

formany years." She hesitated for only a second. "He is loath to speak of thewound on his thigh Did he receive it in battle?"

"Nay, my lady, he was wounded in a tournament. Tilting is

extremely dangerous; he was disabled for many weeks."

"So it was a lance wound? "

"Aye, my lady."

Rosamond dreaded the next question, and dreaded its

answer even more. "Was it my brother Giles who wielded the

lance?"

Griffin flushed. "Aye, my lady."

"Thank you for tel ing me the truth," she murmured. Then, as if in a trance, she walked back to the castle. She was in time to

bid Gilbert goodbye as he and his knights clattered from the

bailey. Rosamond watched Rodger close the distance

between them. She could feel his excitement and his pent-up

energy for the chal enge that lay ahead. She

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looked up at him as he stood beside her, and knew these

were momentous times for him and for the prince whom he

served. The coming events would likely change the history of

England, yet to Rosamond, none of it mattered at that

moment.

"I must speak with you, Rodger."

He flashed his dark grin. "Can it not wait, sweetheart?"

"No, my lord, it cannot. Please come with me to the solar,

where we may be private."

Her tone warned him of her solemn mood. He hoped she

would not beg him to abandon his plans. He was aware of the

danger, welcomed it even, but he knew of Rosamond's deep-

seated fears about death.

"Did you kil my brother?" The words came out on a whisper,

hanging in the air.

The question stunned him. It was the last thing he was

expecting, yet hadn't he been expecting her to ask him this

very question ever since she was twelve? "Bones of Christ,"

he swore, a look of raw pain in his eyes. "Rosamond, it was

an accident!"

He watched her recoil from him, watched the color drain from

her face along with her hope, and it was like a knife twisting in

his gut. "It was an accident... I swear it!"

He wished she would fly at him and try to scratch out his eyes,

wished she would rain vitriolic curses upon his head, wished

she would vent her fury by kicking, biting, and screaming. But

she did none of these things. Rosamond stood silently, almost

drowning as his horrific admission hit her like a tidal wave.

Rodger took a step toward her.

"Don't touch me. Don't even come close." She stared at him

with accusing eyes, as if he had given her a death blow.

"Don't you believe me?" he demanded.

"I don't know what I believe." God in Heaven, she thought, I want to believe you because I love you!

"Jousting is a dangerous sport. Deadly accidents happen too

often. That is why tournaments were outlawed. The king

forbade Edward, but we wouldn't listen; we were mad for the

lists. That day at Ware, a socket

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came off the end of a lance. . . . Giles died instantly.

Rosamond, you must believe it was an accident."

"Why? So I won't suspect you kil ed him out of revenge for the

injury he did you ... or greed? If it was an accident, why didn't

you tel me the truth?"

"Rosamond, I swear to you I was amazed that you did not

know the truth. At the time of the jousting accident, it was no

secret that Giles died by my hand. By the time I found out that

you thought he had been trampled, I did not dare risk tel ing

you the truth. I would have lost you."

"And lost the properties that you kil ed to obtain?"

"That is a bloody wicked and cruel thing to say, Rosamond."

"Was it not bloody wicked and cruel to make me fal in love

with you and agree to marry you, knowing my brother died by

your hand?"

"I would give anything in the world to bring him back, but I

cannot. Either you believe me when I swear it was an

accident, or you do not. Either you trust me, or you do not. You

must decide, Rosamond."

She lifted her chin. "I would like\to believe it was an accident, but I am torn. I need time to think about this ... away from you."

"I shal have Master Burke take you to Deerhurst."

"Deerhurst is not nearly far enough away, and it would be too

painful to stay at the castle that was to have been Giles's

home. I shal go to Pershore." She spoke with the hauteur of a

queen.

He bowed curtly to her, not tel ing her there was no need for

her to go anywhere, since he would be riding far and wide,

marshaling men, weapons, and horses for the impending

conflict. Instead, Rodger immediately arranged a safe escort

to take Rosamond and their son to Pershore.

He was not a man who indulged in introspection, but when she

was gone, he felt empty inside. He saw himself through her

eyes as he examined his role in her brother's death, and he

experienced her pain. Rod felt so wretchedly guilty, he almost

rode after her to beg her forgiveness.

His unbending pride, however, prevented him from doing so. It

would not al ow him to beg. In hindsight, Rod admitted he

should have told her that Giles Marshal had died from a lance

thrust, rather than

285

from being trampled by a destrier. But the accusations that

Rosamond had hurled at him were foul indeed. How could she

think him petty enough to kil Giles in retaliation for the wound

he had taken in the thigh? Far worse, how could she accuse

him of murdering her brother so that she would inherit his

castle of Deerhurst?

Fury rose up within him, almost blinding him. How dare she

leave him? How dare she take his son from him? He should

go and drag her back by the hair, lay down the law to her,

show her that her place was beside him, her lord and master,

whom she had vowed to love, honor, and obey, no matter

what!

Once again, his pride prevented him from going after her. He

did not want her unless she gave him her trust. Rodger loved

his wife with al his heart, deeply, abidingly. He must trust her

to sort out her tangled emotions and listen to her own heart. If

Rosamond loved him, she would trust his word that Giles's

death had been an accident.

******************

when he cal ed the Great Parliament. Suddenly, however,

things began to go wrong, and he was beset by problems on

al sides. A new pontiff by the name of Pope Clement had

been elected, who was openly and actively hostile to Simon

de Montfort. Clement issued a papal bul excommunicating

Earl Simon and backing the rightful king of England. This of

course greatly increased the threat of invasion.

Simon was shaken by the low number of barons who attended

the Parliament he had cal ed. Only those with landholdings in

the East came, while the western barons stayed away in

droves. The Marcher barons were in open rebel ion, and he

knew he must strike at their base of operations and put down

their insurrection before the western barons joined the revolt.

He cursed the day he had agreed to Edward's pledge that he

would remain as hostage if the Marchers could go free. He

had underestimated the shrewdness of the heir to the throne.

De Montfort was counting on the support of Gilbert de Clare,

Earl of Gloucester, to help put down the revolt of the rebel ious

border barons, and once they crossed the River Severn into

Wales, Simon would also establish contact with Llewelyn, who

had promised him hundreds of Welsh archers.

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Since Eleanor de Montfort and her household had traveled to

London for the Great Parliament, Simon now decided to send