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At Pershore, only seven miles away, they would have been able to hear the battle had it not been for the terrible thunderstorm that rattled the windows and sent the maids scurrying into cubbyholes. Pershore also got the pelting rain that missed Evesham, keeping everyone indoors. Rosamond, who knew Rodger would soon be riding into battle, immersed herself in bringing her herbal remedy book up to date. It was the only thing she could think of that would prevent her imagination from running wild. It suddenly occurred to her that she soon might have to put these remedies to use.
She called together all the women of the castle and set them tasks. She sent the laundry maids to tear up sheets for bandages, then took the dairymaids into the stillroom and showed them how to grind dried roots, bark, and seeds into powder with pesde and mortar. Certain plants were used to kill pain; others, when mixed into ointments, took
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the sting from wounds and allowed them to heal. In the kitchen, they boiled animal fat, beeswax, and yarrow, then poured it into pots to cool into a salve that eased pain, lessened bleeding, and cured inflammation. Then Rosamond called the sewing women together to thread all the needles they could find.
The following day, the guards who patrolled Pershore's battlements sent an urgent message below to their lady, that Sir Rodger and a horde of mounted men, including one who was large enough to be Lord Edward himself, were less than a mile away.
Rosamond had just changed her gown and washed the yellow yarrow stains from her hands. She took up a snood set with turquoise to match her gown, then thought better of it, remembering the one she had lost on her wild ride to Worcester. Instead, she tossed her hair back over her shoulders, hoisted her skirts, and began to run. She went through the bailey, ignored the road, and cut across a meadow dotted with stacks of new-mown hay. "Rodger! Rodger!" she cried, unmindful of anyone but her beloved husband.
With his right arm, Rodger hoisted her up before him in the saddle, his green eyes devouring her exquisite beauty. Already breathless from running, she now panted from the close proximity of her dark warrior. She searched his face. "Is it over?"
"Aye, the past is over and done. The future starts today."
As she turned to look at Edward, the sun shone down upon his golden head and upon the golden lions on the fluttering pennons. To Rosamond he looked every inch a royal prince. Rodger was right, it was Edward Plantagenet's birthright to become the King of England, and he had been determined that no one would ever take it from him. As she gazed at him she clearly saw his invincibility. He would be their king, and in her heart she believed he would achieve greatness, both for himself and for his people.
Edward grinned at them. "Rod de Leyburn, you are a lucky man!"
"Where are your wounded?" Rosamond asked. "Pershore is in readiness to tend injuries and offer what succor we can, Lord Edward."
"We are extremely fortunate to have the monks at Evesham Abbey tending those most grievously wounded, but our knights have plenty of
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broken bones and superficial wounds that you can minister to. Our greatest need is food, and in a weak moment your husband offered to provide it. Our destriers will make short work of yonder hay too."
"As royal steward, it is my responsibility. Fortunately, Pershore's farms are grazing abundant herds of cattle."
The moment they arrived at the bailey, Rod was out of the saddle, organizing the men about him and issuing orders. The grooms were put in charge of taking the horses out to pasture, the men-at-arms who had not already bathed were sent to the river, and Master Hutton was at his elbow, advising him which farms had the largest herds. "As soon as I've seen my son, we'll ride to the farms," Rodger informed Pershore's steward.
Lord Edward dismounted and lifted Rosamond from Stygian. "At last, I get to see my godson. Let us hope he has his mother's golden beauty."
"Alas, my lord, he has his father's dark visage." Rosamond dimpled, revealing just how much that pleased her. She put Lizzie Hutton in charge of tending the wounded and directed her to set up an infirmary in the hall. Nan stood by proudly with the baby in her arms. Rosamond took him and was about to lay him in his father's arms, when Rodger shook his head in refusal. "I cannot."
For the first time, Rosamond noticed how stiffly Rodger was holding his left arm. She thrust the baby back to Nan. "Sit down," she ordered her husband. "Let's get rid of this bloody chain mail," she said to Edward, who immediately lifted off his friend's mesh tunic. She examined the arm, her heart in her mouth. She did not think it was broken, but either the elbow, shoulder, or collarbone was dislocated; perhaps all three. "Why the devil didn't you say something?" she scolded.
"It's been numb since the battle; I've not felt much pain."
"Well, you'll certainly feel pain now," she informed him.
Edward held him immobile while Rosamond manipulated his arm. The pain was so sharp and sudden, Rod howled like a hound that had been kicked by a stallion. Then she lifted his arm and rotated his shoulder. Again he cried out, but miraculously the arm was restored to its normal state, except for an ache deep in the bones.
"Where did you learn that gentle touch?" Rod asked with irony.
"I learned it from the nuns," she said, laughing.
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Notoriously cruel bitches!" Edward laughed irreverently.
"Rosamond will soon wipe the smile from your face when she stitches the ragged gash on your arm," Rod said with satisfaction.
" 'Tis merely a scratch, it doesn't need stitching," he protested.
"Off with your bloody chain mail, my lord; you don't want to repulse Princess Eleanora with ugly battle scars, do you? I'll get my needles, and you can go and find yourself a comfortable seat outside where the light is better."
Rosamond emerged into the bailey carrying a goblet of brandy-wine she had laced with rue. She was in time to see Rodger and her steward leave for the farms. "Master Hutton, be sure you get a good price from Sir Rodger for our beef. The crown is paying for it, and I warrant now that Lord Edward is in charge of the realm, he will soon have the royal coffers overflowing."
Edward, who was sitting on a hay cart, threw back his head and laughed heartily. He took the goblet Rosamond handed him and drained it. "Ah, it feels so good to sit in the sunshine and laugh, and be tended by such a beautiful, capable chatelaine. You know, Rosamond, Rodger is—"
"I know, I know"—the corners of her mouth lifted—"Rodger is a lucky man!" She took a needle from the pocket of her smock.
Edward suddenly became serious. "No, Rosamond, I wasn't going to say that at all. My dear, you are the lucky one. Once Rodger de Ley-burn gives you his pledge, nothing on earth will make him break it; he is pledged for life. He has been with me from the very beginning, since I was a wild, irresponsible boy. I know I sometimes do things that make his gorge rise, but his steadfast loyalty and his belief in me have never wavered. I truly could not have done it without him."
Rosamond gazed at him and listened with rapt attention as the prince revealed his innermost feelings, and she realized the rue was loosening his tongue.
"When we were youths, he was the only one who came close to matching my strength. But Rod had an inner strength too, and I thank God that I have at last acquired it. Our friendship is precious to me. There is no deception, no falsehood between us, only total honesty and truth ... and now I must share a truth with you, Rosamond."
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Their eyes met and held as he made his confession. "Your brother, Giles, died by my hand at Ware. It was an accident, of course, a bloody careless accident on my part!" His blue eyes darkened as he remembered that terrible time. "I was already in serious trouble—I had a violent argument with another youth which came to blows, and to my horror I realized I killed him with my bare hands. The boy was a commoner; I breached the laws of chivalry even to challenge him, and his death brought shame upon the royal name of Plantagenet."
Rosamond licked her suddenly dry lips as she realized Edw
ard was telling her the absolute truth.
"At the joust, when I saw another had died by my hand within a month, I went to pieces. That Giles was my friend and companion made it all the more devastating. Rodger stepped in immediately to take the blame and shoulder the consequences, whatever they might be. No boy or man ever had a more faithful or devoted friend."
Tears flooded Rosamond's eyes, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she slipped her hand into Edward's. "Thank you for telling me the truth, my lord, but I beg that you never let Rodger know you have told me." She saw his brows draw together in a question, and gave him her reason. "What Rodger did was so noble and self-sacrificing ... we must never take that away from him!"
Edward squeezed her hand. "So be it. Can you forgive me?"
Rosamond nodded. "It was an accident; I have finally come to terms with it."
Edward raised her fingers to his lips. "Rodger is a lucky man."
With neat stitches, Rosamond closed the long, ragged gash that stretched from the prince's shoulder to his elbow. She knew he would heal without a lasting scar, and now, so would she.
"'Promise me you will both come to Windsor? I cannot manage without Rodger, and I know my Eleanora will be much happier if she has your company and your friendship, Rosamond."
As Rod had pledged to Edward Plantagenet for life, so she had pledged to Rodger de Leyburn. "You honor us, my dearest lord."
A fortnight later, a small cavalcade arrived at the Abbey of Evesham. Eleanor de Montfort had asked Lord Edward for permission to
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visit her husband's grave to say her last goodbye, and her nephew had granted her request.
Rosamond stood at the back of the abbey with Rodger and Edward, keeping a silent vigil as the monks led Lady Eleanor, two of her sons, and her daughter to the place where the shattered bones of the great warlord had been laid to rest. Simon de Montfort had been buried beside his eldest son, Henry, and Rosamond knew that Eleanor's pain must be unendurable.
Rodger slipped his arm about his wife and bent his head to whisper, "Simon once told me that you held a special place in his heart, and he admonished me to take good care of you."
His words touched Rosamond so deeply, she could not reply for the lump in her throat. Instead, she slipped her hand into his.
Guy de Montfort, with his wounds bound up tightly, and his brother Simon stood beside their mother and sister with their heads bowed. Only Eleanor held her head erect, and the pride evidenced in her small figure was so poignant that Rosamond was moved to tears.
Young Simon, filled with grief and remorse for arriving too late to aid his father, fell to his knees, sobbing for forgiveness. His mother touched his shoulder. "Get up off your knees, my son. Never forget that your name is Simon de Montfort."
Twenty-nine
Lady Rosamond de Leyburn, holding her baby son in her arms, stood beside Princess Eleanora in Windsor's beautifully arcaded chapel. The priest in his gilt robes stood beside the carved stone christening font, waiting respectfully for the gentlemen to take their places. Rosamond swept Prince Edward, Harry of Almaine, and her husband, Sir Rodger, with a disdainful look of disapproval for their late arrival. The men had arisen at dawn to indulge in their second favorite sport of hunting, with total disregard for the time that had been set for the baptism.
The priest began by admonishing the courtiers crowded into the chapel that they should attend services regularly, not just on the festive occasions of weddings and christenings. He then launched into a Latin prayer, but switched to the vulgar tongue of English when he heard the congregation shuffle its feet restlessly. When Edward Plantagenet pointedly cleared his throat, the priest skipped to the heart of the matter. "Sanctify this water to the mystical washing away of sin; and grant that this child may receive the fullness of Thy grace, and ever remain in the number of Thy faithful and elect children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
Rosamond tenderly removed the white knitted shawl and held out her naked child. The priest took him from his mother and held him suspended over the font of holy water. "Name this child."
"Rodger de Leyburn." Rosamond's clear voice carried to the farthest recesses of the chapel, and all could hear the pride in it.
The priest dipped the male child into the water. "Rodger de Ley-burn, I baptize thee—"
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Sir Rodger stepped forward to amend the name of his son. "He shall be called Rodger Jason de Leyburn."
Rosamond gave her husband a radiant smile, and her violet eyes became liquid with unshed tears at the thought that her beloved had remembered her favorite name was Jason. Seeing the love on their faces, Princess Eleanora began to cry softly.
The priest dipped the child into the water a second time. "Rodger Jason de Leyburn, I baptize thee—"
This time it was the prince who stepped forward with great authority. "He shall be called Rodger Jason Edward de Leyburn."
With a forbidding scowl, the priest defied anyone else to step forward, then he dipped the child into the water a third time. "Rodger Jason Edward de Leyburn, I baptize thee—"
At this point, Rodger Jason Edward had had enough of dipping. Turning red, he protested at the top of his lungs and, at the same time, directed an arc of pee into the priests eye. The holy man uttered a blasphemous oath and covered it with, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." He made a cross on the baby's forehead, raced through the prayer of Saint Chrysostom, exhorted the godparents on their duties, and thrust the offending child back into its mother's arms.
At the christening breakfast that followed, Rodger laid his son in the middle of the table, where he became the center of attention. Eleanora looked at the baby longingly and wiped away a tear. "There wasn't a dry eye in the chapel," she said innocently, which sent the entire court into convulsions of laughter.
"Splendor of God," Edward said, raising his goblet, "your son has coined a new toast: Here's piss in your eye!"
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The next evening, a great banquet had been planned at Windsor Castle. Its objective was twofold—it would establish that Edward Plan-tagenet now ruled the country, King of England in all but name; and introduce beauteous Princess Eleanora to the royal court of Windsor. King Henry and Queen Eleanor had been persuaded to retire to their castle of Winchester, almost seventy miles from London. Henry was al-
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ready being referred to as the "Old King" by the people of the court. All the nobles and barons who had supported Edward in the civil conflict were invited to the celebration along with their ladies. All knew that rewards for loyal service were in the offing, and ambitious lords were busy taking note of the lands and castles that had been confiscated from the barons and nobles who had set themselves against the royal House of Plantagenet.
The de Leyburns again occupied the spacious suite of rooms in the tower that had been especially built for Prince Edward and Princess Eleanora. It now comprised three luxurious chambers, smaller rooms for their servants, as well as a nursery for the baby, for Rosamond had refused to leave him behind. She had brought one of the young maids from Pershore to be his full-time nurse, so that Nan could resume her duties as Rosamond's tiring-woman in charge of her fashionable new wardrobe, for clothes were of paramount importance at the court of Windsor.
Nan brought the new ruby velvet gown from the wardrobe and held it while Rosamond slipped her arms into the fashionable wide sleeves, which ended in points decorated by golden silk tassels. The neckline was cut extremely low to show off jewels, and Rosamond stepped before her dressing table mirror, trying to decide on a necklace, while Nan fastened the back of her gown.
Rodger emerged from the dressing room with a towel slung about his narrow hips. Nan, quite used to seeing him in various stages of undress, paid no heed until she saw his signal for her to leave. He picked up a small, flat case from his bedside table and approached his wife. She saw him in the mirror and knew he would not be able to resist touch
ing her. The corners of her mouth rose in a secret smile. His touch made her feel extremely beautiful, and his love made her feel special.
Rosamond caught her breath as her husband's hands slipped about her throat, then moved to her nape to fasten the necklace he had had made for her. Her eyes widened with pleasure at the magnificent jewels that sparkled against her throat and fell in a glittering cascade over the curve of her breasts. The precious gems had been fashioned into roses, with ruby petals and diamond centers; the leaves were wrought from jade. "Rodger, it's exquisite, but it must have cost the earth!"
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"I thought it a fitting bauble for a countess."
"A countess?"
"I have reason to believe Edward will make me Earl of Tewkesbury." He flashed her a wicked grin and unfastened the back of her gown.
"Rodger! What the devil are you doing?"
"Exactly what you think I'm doing ... what you hope I'm doing. I warrant a female with your passionate nature cannot wait for her first sexual encounter with an earl of the realm, chérie."
She cast him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. "Whatever makes you think it will be my first?"
His arms tightened possessively; his green eyes glittered dangerously. "By God, madam, it had better be!"
Her laugh was sultry. "You'll ruin my gown."
"I'll buy you another!"
"Indeed you will, my insatiable devil, and another, and another! You will find a countess far more expensive than a mere lady."
"And you will find an earl far more demanding than a mere royal steward. Remove your gown and your shift... it has been a long time since I've seen a naked countess."
Rosamond knew he was teasing her, but she also had no doubts that he had seen more than his fair share of naked noblewomen. But how could she blame them? His devastating charm, his dark, dangerous looks, and his virile, warrior's body made him utterly irresistible. The amazing thing was that she didn't care about the others he had known before her. His love had given her supreme confidence in herself, and her self-confidence in turn attracted him like a lodestone.
The Marriage Priza Page 36
