As she washed herself in the River Soar which murmured past the lazar house, Maria surreptitiously watched him readying their meal.
You will take care of everything. From my hunger to my mother and Edmund Leybourne, should he indeed be following us.
The aromas from the cooking heron drifted to her upon the wind and as she approached the campfire, Phillip looked up and smiled. A smile that warmed her as a mere fire never could.
She sat beside him. Tomorrow 'twill all be over. I'll have a bed to sleep in and a regular bath and wine to drink. And I shall miss this for then I will have to share you with others. Then we will have to face the reality of what we've done.
After they finished their meal, Phillip banked the fire, stretched out, and, resting on one elbow, studied the slow ascent of the golden moon edging above a monotonous horizon. Gilbert whittled and Maria sat with her legs drawn up, watching her beloved.
"The most beautiful moon I've seen," said Phillip, "was in Venice, I think. Would you say so, Gilbert?"
Gilbert glanced up from the horse he was carving out of a yew branch. "I would think Jerusalem, sire."
"You were more enamored there of the women, I'll wager."
Gilbert grinned and returned to his whittling.
"Tell me about Venice," Maria urged. The few times Phillip had spoken of his travels eloquence replaced his natural reticence. She loved to listen to him talk—as much for the timbre of his voice and the animation of his face as the words.
"'Twas at St. Mark's Piazza, where I was gawking at the ships," he said. "Through a patch of clouds the moon suddenly appeared like an enormous scarlet ball just hanging against the sky. The galleys were to harbor, their sails rolled up and angled against the night, and 'twas so still and beautiful I thought heaven could not be finer."
Maria had seen ships at Fordwich's quay thousands of times, but she'd never viewed them as things of beauty or witnessed a similar scene. "You have seen so much. You must have been to nearly every place in God's world."
Phillip shook his head. "Not even a tiny portion, and 'tis the sights I've not seen that seem most intriguing. There is a cape called Bojader, I'm told, where men come so close to the sun their skins roast black. And near there a sea so shallow it boils away to a stinking slime crawling with sea monsters."
Maria's eyes widened "Monsters? Have you ever seen a sea monster?"
"Nay. But I've slain a dragon." He slid a glance at Gilbert, who grinned.
"A dragon? Jesu! You are totally fearless."
"Hardly."
Phillip was amused and flattered by Maria's hero worship, though she was wrong, of course. Like all knights, he feared being crippled or mutilated in war, but he also feared something deeper, something he could not even explain to himself. Was it the routine, the way of life others of his class so unquestioningly embraced?
"Tell me about your travels," urged Maria. "I want to hear it all. The pilgrims who come to Fordwich with their endless tales of shrines are all cut from the same dull cloth and I hear stories cut from the same. I never dreamed traveling could be other than drudgery and crawling from one holy relic to another."
"There are hills out there, they say, made from a lodestone that draws the metal fastening from ships' planking and lures sailors to their doom." Phillip gazed at the moon, which had begun to fade in the immense expanse of heaven, the brilliance of countless emerging stars. "And the Garden of Eden is out there somewhere, too—far to the east, atop a mountain so high it pierces the moon. There's a palace in Eden made of crystal and jasper columns, and streams bedded with jewels." He sat up and hugged his knees. "I looked for the Garden. If 'tis truly there, I cannot find it."
"Perhaps you will." Maria was certain he could do anything.
Phillip shook his head. "I am thirty years old. 'Tis time to settle down." He shifted position and gazed at her, his expression serious. Softly, so that Gilbert would have strained to hear, he said, "And I would do so with thee, Maria. No one else."
As she lifted her gaze to the glittering darkness Maria's heart soared. When they'd first met she had thought him as inaccessible as the moon. Sometimes she still sensed a remoteness.
But I have done the impossible. I have ensnared the moon and soon it will belong to me.
* * *
Rockingham Castle had originally been built by William the Conqueror on the site of an ancient British fortress that dominated the valley of the River Welland. It remained a royal residence. Kings used it both as an administrative center and as a hunting lodge for Rockingham Forest, which covered most of Northamptonshire.
"God is with us!" Phillip said, pointing to the standards flying above the castle in the gathering darkness. "Not only is Lord Sussex in residence, but also His Grace."
"Our king?" Maria asked, dismayed. She'd been too young to remember his visit to Fordwich and now she must face him as a runaway? She imagined his royal disapproval as being a thousand times more terrible than Henrietta's.
In one of the few physical gestures of their journey, Phillip leaned over and patted her arm. "Do not look so frightened. His Grace hates the Leybournes for their part in his favorite's death. On that basis alone he will approve our marriage."
The horses began picking their way up the rutted road to Rockingham Castle. "King Edward is not over mean?"
Phillip smiled. "He is kind and generous." And petulant and hot tempered when crossed, he silently added. But generally only to his enemies.
They passed beneath the portcullis without more than a rudimentary challenge from the porter. Rockingham's outer bailey consisted of the great wall, chapel, and various domestic offices. The courtyard itself appeared deserted.
As Maria dismounted her legs shook as much from fear as fatigue. "I'll not have to meet our lord and... everyone, will I? Not just yet? I am so bedraggled from our traveling."
Before Phillip could reassure her, a stocky knight with deep-set brown eyes emerged from one of Rockingham's two towers and strode toward them.
"Lord Rendell?" he asked.
When Phillip nodded, the man introduced himself as Michael Hallam, squire to the earl of Sussex. "My lord asked that I await your possible arrival. This morning he received a missive from Fordwich detailing... events and enlisting his help in the matter. My lord thought mayhap you would ride for Rockingham."
Michael Hallam's fierce eyes swept Maria, seeking in her a clue to Lord Rendell's bizarre behavior. She looked no different from any other woman, and he found the entire affair, as related by the lady's parents, incomprehensible. What true knight would risk disgrace over a mere female? In the two years since Michael had become Richard of Sussex's squire he'd guarded his lord with fanatic loyalty; he sensed trouble here.
"Then my lord is expecting us?" Phillip asked.
Michael nodded. "They are dining in the great hall."
"The king and queen also?" Maria asked. When Michael nodded curtly, her frightened eyes sought Phillip. "I could not possibly meet them in my state."
Though Michael's face remained impassive, inwardly he was annoyed. Women's preoccupation with fashion and cleanliness was witless vanity. If this girl was so concerned about the impression she made on others, she should not have tempted Phillip Rendell. Some of history's greatest knights had literally lost their heads over a female. While Maria d'Arderne hardly looked a seductress, she'd caused one man to act illogically, which did not bode well for Michael's sire, who could be chivalrous to the point of stupidity. He certainly sometimes acted against commonsense in order to protect a friend.
"My lord bade me tell him should you arrive," he said, taking his leave. "If you prefer you can await him here."
While Gilbert and Phillip gave instructions for the care of their tired mounts, Maria nervously twisted her hands together. Finally, she spotted Michael Hallam and a man who Maria first thought must be Kind Edward himself. He was tall and powerfully built, with a regal carriage, hair more sun streaked than blond, and a strong handsome face.
Overcome by awe and fear, she whispered, "Our very king!"
Phillip slipped a comforting arm around her waist. "Not our king. Our lord."
He left her to greet the earl of Sussex. Watching, Maria was surprised at the intensity of the reunion. Obviously, the bonds of friendship between these two men ran deep. But why should they not? Richard Plantagenet owed Phillip his life.
Imagining how she must look with her mud and sweat-stained clothes, Maria tried to calm her nerves while Phillip related their flight. Occasionally, Richard would look from Phillip to her but she could gauge nothing from his expression.
What is he thinking? Is he calling me foolish and irresponsible? Is he telling Phillip he cannot help? Will he send me back under armed escort to Edmund Leybourne?
When Richard of Sussex finally approached, Maria sank to a curtsy made awkward by apprehension and the weariness of the ride. Upon rising, she stumbled. Richard caught her arm to steady her.
"Damoiselle d'Arderne, I am honored to meet you." He smiled into her eyes. "I can well understand that my friend would risk much for you." Richard's compliment was merely designed to put Maria at her ease. His first impression was merely that Maria d'Arderne looked very young and very vulnerable.
Seeking to allay her fears, he continued, "Though I am your parents' lord as well as Phillip's, you must know where my sympathies lie. I think His Grace will take much pleasure in thwarting Edmund Leybourne."
"Thwarting him, my lord?" Increasingly overwhelmed, Maria had trouble comprehending his meaning.
"Aye, damoiselle. Phillip and I have decided that you two should be married. Tonight."
Chapter 10
Rockingham
Maria and Phillip's wedding was scheduled to take place in the dead of night, at the hour of matins. While Queen Isabella's maids scurried about attempting to properly ready Maria, the earl of Sussex summoned the bishop of Ely, who was staying nearby at Thorney Abbey. The bishop was King Edward's man and Richard was certain that if a large enough donation was promised to his favorite priory, His Excellency would overlook Maria's previous betrothal and all the rest. Haste was of the essence. Should Edmund Leybourne be of a mind to press the matter, he could do little once Maria and Phillip were married and their union consummated. Wars had been fought, however, over similar affairs.
Recently John, earl of Warenne, had abducted Thomas Lancaster's very wife. In response Lancaster had ordered his troops to ravage Warenne's Yorkshire lands and lain siege to Warenne's castles at Conisborough and Sandal. In present-day England even the mildest spark could ignite a civil war spreading far beyond its original boundaries. Richard prayed Phillip's indiscretion would not end so bloodily.
"Leybourne does love to fight, but he is so ancient I doubt he'll be able to do more than bluster," Richard assured Phillip, when they privately discussed the situation. "After he really ponders the expense of raising an army, spending days in the saddle and having to lift a sword rather than a flagon of ale, he will mumble a few threats and then disappear–or cast his net for another bride."
"I owe you a great debt for helping us, sire." All through their journey to Rockingham Phillip had expected to be pursued by Leybourne's troops. After all, Maria was more the old man's property than his own. "I know well enough that few others would be so sympathetic to our plight."
Richard waved away his words. "The scar on my chest daily reminds me that I owe you the greatest debt of all."
While Richard and Phillip met with the bishop of Ely, Maria was bathed in Rockingham's lone bedroom. The tiny chamber, built into the eaves of the great hall by Edward I for his queen, was the only private place in the castle. Surrounded as she was by strangers and overwhelmed by events, Maria remained totally befuddled. Easier to count the number of snowflakes in a storm than comprehend what was happening. Only Queen Isabella's infrequent presence jerked her from her daze. Though Isabella was as palely beautiful as Henrietta was dark, Maria found their resemblance disconcerting. Or was it just that Isabella seemed as openly disapproving of her as was her mother?
"Tis a troublesome thing you have done, Damoiselle d'Arderne," the queen had said upon their meeting. Isabella believed strongly in duty and propriety. Noblewomen did as they were told, not as they pleased. "You have broken your vows, traveled without proper escort, and are entering marriage with less care than a peasant."
Later, as Isabella watched her maids lightly rouge Maria's cheeks with cochineal paste, darken her lashes, and help her into a borrowed blue gown, she relented of her harshness. The girl's bewildered expression reminded Isabella of her five-year-old son, Prince Edward, following a scolding.
"I do wish you happiness," she said, upon presenting Maria a gold girdle set with various good-luck stones. The girl's gratitude was so unfeigned that Isabella even felt moved to kiss her cheek.
A maid positioned a golden circlet atop Maria's unbound hair. Isabella said, "I was twelve when I first met my husband the king in the cathedral at Boulogne. I was dressed in blue and gold, just as you are, and His Grace wore a fine satin jacket and a jeweled cloak. I was as enamored of him as you are of your knight." Unconsciously she twisted her marriage ring. "But I am no longer a child."
Isabella swept from the room in a rustle of brocade and Cyprus silk. Only the lingering scent of violets from her perfume remained in the close bedroom air.
* * *
The bishop of Ely performed the mass of the Trinity and wedding ceremony in hushed, hurried tones. Repeatedly, he looked beyond Maria and Phillip, as if fearing Edmund Leybourne's imminent arrival. The lateness of the hour also lent a certain furtiveness to the atmosphere, as did Rockingham's chapel, which was lighted only by a pair of candelabra. Much of the altar and nave were swathed in shadow, as if too much light might expose things better left hidden. But King Edward and Queen Isabella's presence lent the proceedings a certain air of propriety.
For Maria little of the ceremony registered, nor the guests save for the royal couple and Lord Sussex. Phillip remained calm throughout, and a measure of his strength soothed her anxiety.
After the bishop pronounced the traditional blessing and Phillip slipped on Maria's finger a gold ring set with a lone ruby, the mass ended. As the Agnus Dei was chanted, Phillip advanced to the altar and received the kiss of peace from His Excellency. Then Phillip took Maria in his arms. Even through his tunic she felt the heat from his body, his pounding heart, his muscles knot as their embrace tightened. His parted lips met hers in their first marriage kiss. When he finally released her, she was breathless.
King Edward, whose brocade finery surpassed even his wife's, was the first to congratulate them. Leaning over, he smacked Maria wetly on the mouth. "Lady Rendell, you are as comely a bride as I've seen. Save for you, dear heart," he amended, grinning at his wife.
Isabella's lips tightened. Her husband was free with pretty words, which she'd long ago learned meant little. He'd also had too much to drink. Not until Richard of Sussex's approach did she even acknowledge Edward's compliment, and that was as much to avoid speaking with the earl as to converse with her spouse. Isabella had never liked the Bastard. Not only did she find him arrogant but she had overheard him denigrate her porcelain beauty. For revenge she badgered him about his heredity, a subject about which Richard was most sensitive.
'"Tis your turn, brother, to kiss the bride," said Edward, pushing Richard toward Maria.
Dutifully, the earl kissed her on both cheeks. "I pray that God will bless your marriage bed and give you many years of happiness." He turned to Phillip. "You chose well, my friend. I envy you."
Such compliments were commonplace at weddings, and though Richard could now see that Maria's looks were pleasing enough, he already regarded her merely as an extension of Phillip.
"With you and the earl of Warenne, 'twould appear abductions are all the fashion," commented Hugh Despenser, lord steward of the royal household. He placed himself squarely between Edward and Queen Isabella, who glowered at him. Ignoring her, Des
penser proceeded to draw the others into a political discussion. As always, the earl of Lancaster was the focal point. Following Bannockburn, Thomas had rammed through Parliament a series of ordinances greatly curbing Edward's power and causing England to be, in effect, jointly ruled by himself and the king. Lancaster's influence resulted from his five earldoms, an army equivalent to Edward's, and his royal lineage. But while Lancaster was adept at thwarting the king's desires, he had proven himself totally inept at governing. Mention of his name usually meant hours of indignant rehashing over his latest actions, but this night, at least, Isabella would have none of it.
"A wedding is not the proper place to discuss the earl of Lancaster," she said coldly.
Thomas Lancaster was related to her as well as to Edward, and because of his part in Piers Gaveston's death she yet counted him an ally. Besides, Isabella seized every opportunity to contradict or chastise Hugh Despenser in front of her husband. She found their deepening friendship distressing. Gaveston had once come between her and Edward, but she'd thought the king's "peculiarity" had died with Piers. Would Hugh Despenser prove her wrong?
* * *
As was customary, Richard and the rest of the guests led Maria and Phillip to Queen Eleanor's garden, where a pavilion had been hurriedly erected to accommodate the newlyweds. The night was warm and sweet with the fragrance of heliotrope, violets, gillyflowers, and a pleasant mixture of herbs. Rose and yew hedges, shaped like elephants and mythic animals, intermittently marked the path. From the pavilion's interior, light shimmered and spilled beyond the open flap onto the grass.
A low couch, covered with silk sheets and a counterpane of cloth of gold, had been placed in the center of the tent. Upon the floor were thick carpets, lounging pillows, and even a lute. A filigree tray, laden with wine, goblets, various fruits, and sweetmeats, was located near the couch. An oil lamp upon a stand provided a golden glow to the sensuous surroundings.
After blessing the marriage bed, the bishop left Maria to be disrobed by one of Isabella's maids. As she slipped naked beneath the sheets, she awaited Phillip's arrival with a mixture of anticipation and fear.
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