The Lion and the Leopard

by Mary Ellen Johnson

  "Six more days," said Leybourne, his famous temper only faintly pricked by Maria's impropriety. He knew what young Phillip Rendell was all about. But valorous deeds and a handsome face could not compete with wealth and titles.

  Or legally binding contracts.

  * * *

  Maria tried to cry quietly into her pillow rather than awaken her sister. The betrothal ring Edmund Leybourne had earlier presented her, with both their names engraved in its band, felt impossibly heavy on her finger.

  A rustling of mattresses, a hand upon her shoulder. "Do not be sad," Eleanora whispered.

  Her twin's sympathy only caused Maria to weep all the harder. "I do not want to marry Edmund Leybourne!"

  "'I know. But 'tis necessary."

  Maria twisted Edmund's cumbersome betrothal ring. "I cannot do this. I cannot!"

  Eleanora was silent, considering. While wholeheartedly embracing the concept of duty, she hated being unable to ease her twin's misery. "Do not fret so. I do not believe you'll EVER marry Lord Leybourne."

  Maria sat up. Due to the warm spring night their window had not been shuttered; in the moonlight she tried to decipher her sister's expression. "You've seen something?"

  "Mayhap," Eleanora said reluctantly. Of all the trials God had given her, her sight ranked near the top. If only because Maria was always pestering her about it.

  "Who will it be? Who will I marry?" She thought of her black-haired, blue-eyed knight. "Someone I've already met?"

  Eleanora shook her head. "'Tis always the same face I see, the face of the golden knight."

  "But I do not want a stranger." Disappointed, Maria slumped back upon the pillows. "I want... someone else."

  * * *

  Maria only saw Phillip once more, the day before the tourney, at Chilham Castle's fair. While Edmund was haggling with a dog seller over the cost of a pair of greyhounds for Henrietta, Maria had slipped away. She'd seen Phillip, who was close by, ostensibly watching a bear baiting.

  Maria strode purposefully to him. She took this as a sign. God had granted her another meeting; the rest was up to her.

  "A word, my lord?" Phillip went with her willingly, only stopping at a peddler who had spread his wares upon the green in order to purchase a blue ribbon.

  "I will wear it tomorrow in the tourney in your honor," he said, raising it in front of her for her perusal. "'Twill bring me luck."

  Maria was flattered. A knight wearing her favor! But, undeterred from her mission, she guided him away from the press of merchants and customers to a more secluded spot. Though her legs felt unsteady, she faced him boldly.

  "Marry me, my lord."

  Phillip blinked in surprise. "Damoiselle—"

  "Please do. I will be a good wife, diligent and obedient and I will never raise my voice, that I promise," she said, her plea tumbling forth in a rush. "But please, please do not make me marry Lord Leybourne. Please, please marry me."

  Phillip reached out to touch her cheek in a most improper gesture. "You are so lovely. My heart is truly touched by your... suggestion." He paused, struggling to choose the proper response. "But I did not come to the tourney for my own amusement. Rather in the hope of gain. So that when I return to Herefordshire I will be a more worthy suitor."

  Maria stepped back, uncertain what he was saying. And yet knowing...

  "I am betrothed to a lady whose lands adjoin my family demesne. After I leave Fordwich, I will be returning to my own wedding."

  Maria felt as if she'd been slapped. "Of course." Oh, my dear, my dear, she thought, barely refraining from wringing her hands. She felt like a trapped bird.

  Phillip raised Maria's chin so that she looked him square in the eye. "If circumstances were different. If we had met at another time or place—"

  "But we did not." Something within her hardened. This had been her one opportunity... and it had failed. So be it.

  She turned from him, back straight, head high to return to Leybourne and her mother. But as she walked, an image came unbidden–of this dark knight, this knight forever forbidden to her, entwined with his wife.

  While she... she would sire sons with Edmund Leybourne.

  Chapter 8

  Chilham Castle

  'Twas tradition for the Cherry Fair tourney to be held at the more commodious grounds surrounding Chilham Castle. Today the galleries were bright with the dress of the noblewomen—Brussels scarlets, brocades, Damascus silks, and fine linens from Rheims, all trimmed with miniver, ermine, or most expensive of all, sable. As Queen of Beauty and Love, Maria was seated in the place of honor beneath a striped canopy.

  During the tourney the crowd had enjoyed many acts of skill but no deaths, a blessing for the church labeled such deaths suicide, which automatically excommunicated the offender and doomed him to hell. Phillip had acquitted himself especially well, besting four who had ridden against him and enriching himself with the resultant ransoms. Each time he jousted Maria felt pride at the sight of her blue ribbon fluttering from his lance, but that pride was tempered with dread. Tomorrow she would be formally betrothed and in forty days she would begin a new life as Countess of Dorset.

  "Look!" Eleanora poked Maria in the ribs. "Your knight is at the head of the lists."

  Emerging from her unhappy vision, Maria shaded her eyes and surveyed the field.

  Phillip's pursuivant, dressed gaudily—as were all pursuivants—in particolored mantle and bliaut, stepped forward. After waving the crowd to silence, he challenged all comers. From the opposite end a second pursuivant finally answered the challenge. Bartholomew Badlesmere, lord of Chilham Castle, whom Phillip had unseated on the first pass two days previous.

  Before taking their places, the two knights circled the lists. Men cheered; ladies threw garlands of flowers, streamers, gloves, and other favors. Three days of jousting had led to a certain sameness, and Phillip's challenge had instilled a new excitement into the activities. The winner of this contest would be declared victor of the tournament. Though other prizes would be presented, to him would go the most coveted award, a gold and emerald chaplet.

  When the knights took their positions on opposite ends, the spectators hushed. Waving a wand, a marshal stepped forward to shout, "In the name of God and St. George, do battle."

  The two men charged. The first pass was fairly met, but upon the second, Bartholomew Badlesmere's lance aimed too high and Phillip swooned. Only the saddle's high ridge and his own horsemanship kept him righted. Maria's nails dug into her palms. She sent a dozen prayers heavenward.

  On the third pass Phillip lifted Bartholomew Badlesmere from his seat as effortlessly as he might pluck an apple from a tree. The crowd roared its approval. From the barricades someone shouted, "Phillip Rendell!" Immediately, everyone began chanting his name.

  While his squires carried the unconscious Badlesmere from the field, Phillip triumphantly circled the lists.

  Maria watched him with shining eyes. 'Tis just like in the romances.

  Though she knew all too well it wasn't.

  Phillip drew rein below the canopy upon which Maria was seated. As Queen of Beauty and Love, it was her duty to present him his prize. He removed his helm. Phillip's hair was matted, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, and the smile he bestowed upon her took her breath away. In her memory she registered every plane, every line of his face and form.

  If I am wedded to Edmund Leybourne a thousand seasons, if I never see you again, I will never forget how you looked this moment.

  Chaplet in hand, she descended the tiers to where Phillip awaited. When she bent over to place the chaplet atop his head, she inhaled the scent of him—a pleasant combination of leather, sweat, and sandalwood.

  "Meet me tonight." Phillip's lips were but inches from her own. "In Fordwich town, down at your family's warehouses."

  Maria drew back to search his face. "Why would you ask such a thing? You know I cannot."

  "If you will but come, we will run away. I would marry thee, Maria."

  S
he felt suddenly light-headed. This was what she'd imagined. Yet... "'Tis impossible. We would be outcasts."

  "We will ride for Rockingham Castle. My lord Sussex will protect us." He kissed her hard on the lips. "Tonight. Be there." As Phillip galloped toward the exit to the lists, his chaplet reflected the light from the lengthening sun in blinding flashes.

  Too late, Maria thought, watching him disappear. How can you expect me to brave the disapproval of an entire kingdom when I cannot even defy my mother?

  * * *

  "You have disgraced us all, you and that insolent fool!" Henrietta cracked Maria across the mouth. "I could not believe your actions. Nor could Lord Leybourne, who was enraged, and rightly so. Have you no care for his public humiliation?"

  "I am not the first woman to be kissed at a tourney. It did no harm."

  Henrietta slapped her again, snapping her head back. "He has spoiled everything, your fine knight. Why couldn't he have been killed in some godforsaken part of the earth before ruining my life?" She began pacing the chamber. "Phillip Rendell is naught but a second son with no inheritance to speak of and no prospects. Besides, all the contracts have been signed and tomorrow you will be officially betrothed."

  Striving for calm, Henrietta inhaled deeply, swallowing down the resultant urge to cough. "I am returning to the banquet now. Alice will dress you in your blue velvet. When you are presentable you will join us, apologize to Sir Edmund, and tomorrow you will recite your betrothal vows with a smile. You will formally exchange rings and forty days from now you will be married and forever out of my hair."

  Henrietta slammed the solar door behind her.

  From the smaller bedchamber, Alice and Eleanora emerged. The tiring maid removed Maria's blue dress from a wall peg, draped it across the canopied bed, and began inspecting it for spots or tears.

  "Be you fine?" Eleanora peered at her. "Your jaw is beginning to swell."

  "Tis nothing. I just have a fearsome headache." Maria's lower lip quivered. She swallowed hard, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears inside. Phillip had said to meet him. How could she? But he would marry her. If she dared defy them all...

  "You told me that I wouldn't marry Lord Leybourne. Are you certain you've never seen my lord Rendell in your dreams? Could he have been the golden knight, and you mixed him up somehow? Think, Eleanora. Does not he have a place somewhere in my life?"

  "Phillip and the golden knight are as different as darkness and light. And remember, my dreams are not always truthful. In this case 'twould appear I was wrong."

  Maria didn't understand all there was to know about the science of dreams. Perhaps Eleanora was seeing events as they would be if she refused to act. But what if she took charge of her own fate? All she had to do was walk away from Fordwich, turn her back on her mother and Lord Leybourne and hundreds of guests. All scandals died in time.

  Maria turned to Alice. "Mix me some root of peony and oil of roses for my headache."

  "Aye, miss. And I will bring you something for your jaw. 'Tis turning an ugly color."

  After Alice left, Maria scooped her travelling mantle off a nearby peg.

  "What are you doing?" asked Eleanora.

  "I am running away."

  Eleanora laughed. "You cannot do that. The roads are filled with brigands and you have no place to go or anyone to escort you."

  "I have Lord Rendell. He wants to marry me."

  "Blessed Mary, are you mad? Mother would never forgive you the scandal." She grabbed Maria's arm. "I would have to tell, you know I would. You wouldn't get beyond the drawbridge."

  Maria shook off her grasp. "Help me, I implore you. 'Tis my only chance for happiness and I must take it."

  "Happiness is irrelevant. Duty—"

  She held up a warning hand. "Do not! Mother has pounded that word into my head until I cannot think for myself. But this time I'll not be dissuaded. Please, when Alice returns, make an excuse, anything. Just give me a measure of time."

  Eleanora shook her head. "I do not blame you for wanting Lord Rendell. He is a fair knight and worthy. But we do not have the luxury of choosing such mates unless they are also rich."

  "But he will be. The earl of Sussex will see to that. They are friends. And when we marry, you can come live with us. I'll find you a proper husband and—"

  Eleanora laid her finger upon Maria's lips. "Enough! I am weary of arguing. Very well, I will keep quiet. You and Mother have been at odds so long that tonight was inevitable. Though I am certain I will rue my action, I'll do what I can."

  Maria hugged her. "I must hurry before Alice returns."

  "I will pray for you, but be careful." Eleanora's eyes glittered strangely and Maria felt a sudden chill.

  "Have you had another dream, something about me?" When she did not answer, Maria persisted. "What have you seen? You must tell me."

  Eleanora shook her head.

  "Tell me!"

  "All right then. If you must know. 'Tis Death, standing beside you."

  "Whose death?" Maria cried, crossing herself. "Mine? Lord Rendell's? Jesu, will Edmund Leybourne have us murdered?"

  "I do not know," said Eleanora. "All I know is that he is there... Now be gone before I change my mind."

  * * *

  As Maria turned down Well Lane, toward Fordwich's quay, muted light from shuttered cottages eased the darkness. The smells of cabbage, bacon, and wood smoke lingered in the still air. Repeatedly she twisted around to see whether a troop of knights raced after her.

  Or Death.

  Shivering, she kept her eyes on the road, and the crane that loomed above the family warehouses.

  If Death is in the air,'twill be mine. For Mother will surely kill me when she catches me.

  Rows of long, low warehouses stood at right angles to the River Stour. The quay was eerie in its emptiness. Fordwich provided the sole outport for Canterbury, and during the day this area teemed with activity. French ships, their holds weighted with blocks of Caen stone, maneuvered up to the docks. Exotically dressed Spaniards wrestled with casks of wine and cumbersome bolts of cloth, and cursing Normans unloaded iron and spices. Now only anchored galleys bumped against the dock, their naked masts silhouetted against a velvety night pricked with stars. A pale half-moon shimmered off the water, onto the grey stones of the quay.

  "Lord Rendell?" After dismounting, Maria spotted his squire in the shadows by the crane house. Then Phillip himself appeared, pulled her inside, out of the moonlight and into his arms.

  "You truly meant to marry me?" she asked. "No matter that I am—we're both—betrothed?"

  "A betrothal is not marriage. Not even the church will disapprove if we are properly wed. Besides, Edmund Leybourne may be powerful but our lord is even more so. I am confident Richard of Sussex will marry us."

  "What if they capture us before we reach him?" Was Maria leading Phillip, both of them, to their doom? The enormity of what they were contemplating penetrated her defiance. "Our family names will be forever disgraced. Jesu! If we survive I will end up in a nunnery."

  Phillip chuckled. "They'll be looking for us at my family's manor of Winchcomb, not Rockingham. And England is large enough to conceal three people, if they desire not to be found."

  Chapter 9

  On the Road to Rockingham Castle

  The England Maria passed through in May of 1317 was poorer than it had ever been during Edward I's time. Years of increasingly unstable weather had ruined croplands. Many previously prosperous manors were now abandoned and nature encroached upon what had previously been cleared pasturages. On existing acreages, crop yields had fallen because the soil itself was depleted. During the famines and floods of 1315-16, wheat had sold for forty pence a bushel in London, while in Northumbria people had resorted to eating dogs and horses. Along the Pilgrim's Way, bodies had been stacked like cords of firewood. Near Rochester, starving brigands had cut corpses from the gallows and eaten the rotting flesh. Many of the homeless had taken to the roads and still roamed in lawless bands. T
he Welsh conducted raids from the hills into borderlands, while the Scots had penetrated as far south as Lancashire. Robert the Bruce's brother, Edward, had conquered much of Ireland.

  In the vicinity of Phillip's home, thieves haunted Alton Forest and from headquarters there swept outward to ravage Berkshire, Wiltshire, and Hampshire. Robbers, extortionists, pickpockets, and kidnappers plagued towns across the breadth of England. The growing shortage of good pastureland and restrictions on silver exports had forced up prices, and His Grace Edward II had mercilessly raised taxes, further emptying purses and forcing the desperate to a life of crime. Sheltered as she'd been in Fordwich, Maria had only known how the bad times had affected her family. The shortages had meant less extravagance, but never starvation.

  Maria, Phillip and Phillip's squire rode all the first night and did not stop until dark of the second. More riding. On the fifth night, they found an abandoned leper, or lazar, house. On the morrow they would reach Rockingham, located in the Midlands.

  Saddle sore and exhausted, Maria stumbled from her horse while Gilbert gathered wood for a fire and Phillip set off to find supper. Walking over the swampy land along the River Soar he sniffed out cooking herbs of wild thyme, bog myrtle, and dried sage to flavor his discovery of wild bird eggs and the heron he'd uncovered nesting in the marshes.

  With each passing hour Maria found herself more in awe of Phillip and his capabilities. In her seventeen years she'd never travelled more than a half day from Fordwich. Nothing had prepared her for such primitive conditions. Without Phillip she was certain she would have already fallen prey to robbers or the wolves howling in surrounding forests. Phillip, however, seemed to thrive in land that was as unfamiliar to him as to Maria. When streams could not be found for water he uncovered pits and ponds used by sheep or cattle. Using a bow and arrow he shot down waterfowl and devised a snare for rabbits. After fastening a fishing line made of horsehair he caught enough fish for supper. He never appeared uncertain about anything. And if he ever doubted the rightness of their running away or worried about possible repercussions he did not voice his concerns.