"Did you kill 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 killed him out of revenge for the injury he did you ... or greed? If it was an accident, why didn't you tell 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 telling you the truth. I would have lost you."
"And lost the properties that you killed to obtain?"
"That is a bloody wicked and cruel thing to say, Rosamond."
"Was it not bloody wicked and cruel to make me fall 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 liketo believe it was an accident, but I am torn. I need time to think about this ... away from you."
"I shall 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 shall go to Pershore." She spoke with the hauteur of a queen.
He bowed curtly to her, not telling 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 allow him to beg. In hindsight, Rod admitted he should have told her that Giles Marshal had died from a lance thrust, rather than
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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 kill 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 all 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.
******************
Simon de Montfort had hoped to bring peace to England when he called the Great Parliament. Suddenly, however, things began to go wrong, and he was beset by problems on all 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 bull 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 called. Only those with landholdings in the East came, while the western barons stayed away in droves. The Marcher barons were in open rebellion, 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 rebellious 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 her to Dover Castle with a force of eighty knights, commanded by Sir Rickard de Burgh. This would ensure peace in the eastern counties, keep the Cinque Ports loyal, and make sure no aid for the king was brought in from France. With his son Simon commanding the forces of Surrey and Sussex to keep peace in the South, de Montfort and his own men-at-arms headed west to bring the rebel Marcher barons to heel.
When Simon de Montfort arrived at the city of Gloucester, the castle looked like an armed camp; moreover, he found Gilbert de Clare in a truculent mood. The fiery-tempered youth was incensed that the de Montfort family held all the power in England. That night, the sky was lit up by the fires of armed horsemen who were camped on the wooded hills surrounding Gloucester, and Simon realized that if he did not appease Gilbert the Red, they would be at war. Simon immediately promised Gilbert a governing role, but the young earl remained uncommitted.
The next day, Henry de Montfort rode in with the mortifying news that Lord Edward had escaped from Hereford. Although Simon berated his son for his lax vigilance, he had feared in his bones that Prince Edward Plantagenet could not be kept caged. He immediately issued his soldiers marching orders for Hereford, for if he allowed Edward to remain free, men everywhere would flock to his cause and civil war would erupt again. Before they could depart, however, Simon's spies brought him the urgent news that John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, had landed at Pembroke with a huge fighting force. Knowing the Cinque Ports of the east coast were closed to them, they had sailed around England to land on the west coast of Wales.
Now, Simon de Montfort was torn. Should he try to recapture Edward, or should he march into Wales and, with the military aid of his ally Llewelyn, wipe out the forces that had landed at Pembroke? He decided the latter was more pressing and urged Gilbert, Earl of Gloucester, to join him. Gilbert was unfriendly and evasive, and Simon de Montfort realized he could not depend on his support, so before he crossed the River Severn, de Montfort sent urgent instructions to his son Simon to gather the loyal
forces of the South and East and bring them to join his own army.
* * *
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At Ludlow, the royalist army grew larger and stronger each day. Edward Plantagenet, exhilarated with his freedom, was filled with zeal and determination
, which was contagious to those who gathered about him. He was a far different man from the impetuous and reckless commander who had fought at the Battle of Lewes. He had learned some bitter lessons on the battlefield, and during his months of imprisonment, he had had little to do but plot revenge and study strategy.
Edward was like a golden god, bursting with energy and filled with a consuming fire to take up arms against his enemy and win back England for the crown. The warlord himself had taught him that battles were won with speed and fury, but Edward now realized that with shrewd strategy and meticulous planning, battles could be won before they were ever fought. First and foremost, your men-at-arms must be well trained and disciplined to take orders. To win, you also needed to choose the battlefield and place your troops in the best position. If you could add the element of surprise, the battle was won!
Rodger de Leyburn's job was to maintain communication between the various groups and factions that supported the crown. Basically, he rode back and forth between Edward at Ludlow and the towns of the western barons, tallying numbers. Amazingly, he found that he need do little recruiting, for the news of Lord Edward's escape had turned the tide so that the whole of the western region was ablaze with martial activity.
Rodger thundered into the bailey of squat Ludlow Castle on his great black destrier, with Griffin at his back. Inside he saw Edward's tall frame bent over a map table as the prince conferred with Lincoln de Warenne. "The Lion and the Lynx, just the two I hoped to find. I've ridden straight from Gilbert in Gloucester, and the news is all good!"
Lincoln poured Rod a tankard of ale to wash the dust of the road from his throat, as Edward clapped his friend on the back.
"Simon de Montfort took his army to Gloucester expecting Gilbert to join him in bringing the Marcher barons to heel. It was at Gloucester he learned of your escape, and he immediately gave the army its orders to march to Hereford." Rod held up his hand when he saw Edward's look of savage anticipation. "Before they could leave, his scouts brought him the news that John de Warenne had landed at Pembroke
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with a fighting force, and Simon has crossed the Severn into Wales to meet them."
Edward threw back his head and laughed with glee. "The fool! His brain must be addled with age! He has made a tactical mistake crossing into Wales. His first priority should have been me! His force is greater than mine at the moment. He should have marched directly north and turned our flank toward the army young Simon commands, trapping us between."
"Our force here in Ludlow may be smaller than his, but you haven't seen the men Gilbert has gathered at Gloucester. The Forest of Dean and every foot of the hills about the city are covered with armed camps. It must have been a terrible shock for Simon de Montfort when Gilbert refused to join him," Rod declared.
"I appreciate the importance of detaching Gilbert of Gloucester from him, and I have you to thank, Rod, for persuading him to switch his allegiance to me."
The swarthy Mortimer stepped into the map room. "Three days ago, your brother John landed at Pembroke with a huge fighting force," he informed Lincoln de Warenne.
"Aye, de Leyburn has just brought the same news. Simon de Montfort has crossed into Wales to move against them," Lincoln said with a worried frown.
Mortimer grinned. "I had scouts posted in Pembroke to lead them north. They are more than halfway to Wigmore and Ludlow. When Simon de Montfort takes his army up the Usk Valley, the hunter will find his quarry has flown."
Edward straightened up and hit his head on a low beam. "Splendor of God, we are going to need bigger headquarters. There is no longer any need for us to skulk in the borders. Since de Montfort has crossed into Wales, I intend to make this side of the River Severn mine! We will patrol the entire length from Worcester to Gloucester," Edward said decisively.
"In that case, my lord, I had better see what I can do about securing Worcester as our new headquarters." Rod was only half jesting; none in the room doubted his powers of persuasion.
At Pershore, Rosamond saw the results of Rodger's wise decisions
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everywhere. The entire household was happy and industrious under the caring management of her steward, Hutton, and his wife, Lizzie. The sunshine spilling through the sparkling windows showed that even the corners of the chambers were spotless and the furniture gleamed with polish. The kitchens were immaculate and the stillroom rafters hung with savory herbs.
The young maids were delighted to have a baby in the castle, and begged Rosamond to allow them to bathe him, dress him, and carry him about. Nan supervised them with a watchful eye while she kept the other on Rosamond, who was quiet, pale, and introspective. Nan urged her to spend time outdoors. The gardens were a profusion of late summer blooms, and beyond the trees, the River Avon flowed gently, bringing an air of tranquility to all of Pershore.
Rosamond knew this was the haven she needed to sort out her tangled thoughts and emotions. As she lingered in the solitude of the gardens, her mind went back to the time when she was twelve and she received the terrible news. Rosamond had never dared to do this before; fear and self-protection had prevented her. Now she remembered Lady Eleanor telling her there had been a tragic jousting accident, and that her beloved brother Giles had lost his life. She recalled being too numb with shock to ask questions, but recollected that she had overheard the kitchen servants whispering about dangerous tournaments where challengers were ofttimes trampled by their opponents' destriers. That was when her trampling dreams had begun. Her grief had been unbearable, and she had been convinced that she had lost her brother because she loved him.
As Rosamond looked back she remembered how kind and compassionate everyone had been to her, and she now understood their reluctance to discuss the bloody details with a twelve-year-old girl. What she did not understand was why she hadn't asked questions and learned the circumstances surrounding the tragedy when she was older. Rosamond realized the answer was lack of courage; it had been easier to blot it out and never speak of it.
Now, as she thought about that day, it came to her how devastating it must have been for Giles's companions to know their reckless disobe- 290
dience in attending the tournament at Ware had resulted in the death of their friend. How much distress, sorrow, and self-loathing they must have suffered. How sobering it must have been for fifteen-year-old Lord Edward ... how horrific for Rodger de Leyburn!
Like a revelation, it came to Rosamond that he had betrothed her because he felt responsible for her. Because Giles Marshal had died by his hand, Rodger de Leyburn had stepped forward like a knight-errant to shoulder the responsibility of his friend's young sister. He had felt honor-bound. Then, five years later, when he saw her grown to womanhood, he had become instantly attracted.
Rosamond finally admitted that she too had been instantly attracted to the bold young knight, whose dark beauty was so irresistibly potent. She had rebuffed him because she never again wanted to suffer the wrenching pain of loss. But Rodger de Leyburn would not be denied. He had vowed he would never let her go, and in the end, she had surrendered. Her mind conjured a vision of him that was as vivid as if he stood before her. His powerful body exuded strength, and that was what had first attracted her. She shivered as she thought of the strength of his hands and his wrists, as thick as oak branches from wielding sword and lance.
Giles Marshal had died from a lance thrust, yet those same hands that had couched the lance had snatched her from the raging river and helped Nimbus to foal twins. She remembered how gentle his hands had been when he had delivered her baby and ended her torture. He had taken one life, but given her back another, and she knew in her heart that Rodger de Leyburn could never commit murder.
As Rosamond's doubt dropped away, her thinking became crystal clear. Though she had fled from Rodger de Leyburn, his presence was ever with her. He walked beside her in the gardens, his hand joined hers when she rocked her son's cradle, and his warmth enveloped her throughout the night. A part of him was with h
er, whether she was sleeping or awake, and Rosamond realized that what she carried with her was his love.
She was inextricably bound to him, just as love and trust were inextricably bound together. It was amazingly simple. To trust was to love, ` 291
and to love was to trust. Rosamond acknowledged that she loved Rodger de Leyburn with all her heart and with all her soul; and it followed that if she loved him, she must trust him. He had sworn that Giles's death was accidental, and Rosamond knew she trusted him enough to believe him.
She remembered the raw pain in Rodger's eyes, and realized how difficult it must have been carrying such a secret burden. To have accidentally killed the brother of the woman you loved must have often been unendurable. How he must have longed for her forgiveness, yet dreaded hurting her with the truth.
Rosamond realized that without Rodger she was bereft; with him she was complete. My life's story is up to me, she told herself. / choose happiness! Miraculously, she was suddenly filled with joy, and she understood that love really was a miracle. She looked down at her baby son, who was sleeping at her feet. She picked him up and kissed him. "I have decided that your name will be Rodger!"
Twenty-seven
When the royal steward arrived at Worcester Castle, Sir Rodger received his usual warm welcome from the staff, most of whom he had hired himself when he and Lord Edward first returned from Gascony. The exception was the new castellan appointed by Simon de Montfort when he had ordered that all royal castles be surrendered to him. De Leyburn relished the confrontation, and the new castellan soon bowed to the commanding authority of the dark, powerful steward. That night, the man wisely departed, convinced his life would be forfeit if he remained at Worcester Castle one day longer.
Rodger de Leyburn had little time for reflection or even sleep these days, but when all was in readiness to receive Edward and his growing army, he stood alone on the battlements of Worcester Castle and looked longingly toward Pershore, only seven miles away. He tried not to let his thoughts dwell on Rosamond, but in quiet moments like this, it wasn't just his body that ached for her, it was his heart.
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