The Marriage Prize (51 page)

shield with which he warded off the heavy

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blows of his enemy's weapons. Tonight, fortunately, few fought

back. The mounted man before him was an exception. Their

swords clashed and their stirrups touched as their vicious

warhorses slid about on the blood-slicked ground. Suddenly,

Rodger de Leyburn was close enough to see his enemy's

eyes, and he recognized young Simon de Montfort!

Rod stared, and stayed his sword, but the minute he did so,

his opponent saw the opening and lunged savagely. Rodger

brought up the edge of his shield with a brutal thrust that

knocked the sword from Simon's hand. Rodger lifted the

noseguard of his helmet to make his identity plain. Young

Simon stared in horror, first at the blazing green eyes, then at

the dripping sword. "Get to the castle, man!" Rodger roared, then he set his spurs to Stygian and wheeled toward a knight

carrying a baronial banner.

By the time the sun came up, it was al over; the baronial

forces were completely vanquished. Edward forbade pursuit

of those who had fled. He knew he had destroyed the fighting

ability of this half of the baronial army, and ordered his

lieutenants to gather their troops together. It was an

unqualified victory; they had captured al the baronial horses

and taken thirteen banners.

and taken thirteen banners.

As Rodger de Leyburn rode slowly through the camp,

assessing their losses and tal ying their gains, he was

surprised to see the Earl of Oxford sitting on the ground amid

the tattered banners. "Whose prisoner are you?"

Oxford's hands trembled visibly as he answered de Leyburn. "I

came face-to-face with Prince Edward. He raised his bloody

great broadsword and almost decapitated me! Then he gave

me a piercing look with those ice-blue eyes, and said, 'I need

al my English barons.' He took me prisoner and turned me

over to his squire."

"You are a lucky man; Edward intended to give no quarter."

Kenilworth was impregnable and could only be taken by

siege, so the captured horses were given to the foot soldiers,

and Edward gave the order to return to Worcester without

pause or rest. He knew his greatest chal enge lay ahead of

him, and he intended to be ready for it. The royal troops,

buoyed by their victory, raised the captured banners on high.

"How many barons were here?" Edward asked Rodger de

Leyburn.

"Thirteen, my lord."

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"Fools! Did they not know thirteen is an unlucky number?"

At Pershore, Rosamond waited impatiently for the expected

visit from her husband. When he did not come immediately,

she was piqued at his neglect. She told herself that even if the

stubborn man did not wish to see her, surely he would come to

see his son. He was simply taking his own sweet time to

deliberately annoy her. Wel , she would be damned if she

would sit here and wait for him. It was time she rode out to

inspect Pershore's tenant farms, and with any luck, she would

be out and about her business when the annoying devil

arrived!

The next morning, Rosamond fed her baby, tucked him into

his cradle, and instructed Nan and the maids to watch over

him with special care while she and her steward, Master

Hutton, visited her outlying tenant farms. She chose a striking

emerald green riding tunic and tucked her long, honey-gold

tresses into a snood embroidered with emerald and pearl

beads. She pul ed on her riding boots and stood before the

polished silver mirror. Pleased with the newly slim figure she

saw reflected there, she picked up her riding gloves and went

to the stables.

Nimbus was already saddled for her, and Rosamond and her

steward trotted their horses through the bailey. She listened

intently as he described some of the improvements she would

find, then they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Nimbus

tossed her mane and fought the bit a little, impatient for a

gal op on such a glorious autumn morning. Rosamond

glanced at her sober, sensible steward, plodding along on his

gelding, and was delighted to hear him say, "Go on, my lady,

give 'er a run."

"Thank you, Hutton, I'l just have a gal op along the river."

Rosamond gave Nimbus her head, and the mare almost

danced through the goldenrod and purple Michaelmas daisies

that grew in the tal grass on the banks of the Avon. There

wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sunshine made the water

shimmer. Rosamond breathed deeply and lowered her lashes

against the bril iance. She could feel the sun on her skin, hear

the birdsong, and smel the wildflowers. She knew she was

happy to be alive, and especial y happy to be a woman.

Suddenly, Nimbus slowed, and Rosamond felt the mare

shudder with fear. She knew danger was present, so she

stroked her horse's neck to calm her, and glanced about for a

predator. Rosamond was just about

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to turn Nimbus and ride back to Hutton, when something in the

distance caught her eye. Up ahead, something was moving. It

was about two miles away, and she narrowed her eyes in an

effort to identify what it was. The black line that continuously

moved across the river was made up of horses . . . and men . .

. and wagons. A finger of apprehension touched her as she

realized they looked like soldiers. She urged Nimbus to the

edge of the water so that she could get a clearer view upriver,

and immediately noticed an object floating past her on the

current. It was a wooden shield painted with the baronial

cross!

In a flash of recognition, she knew it was Simon de Montfort

and his baronial army. They were not in Wales at al ; they were

here, crossing the River Avon at Pershore! Suddenly her

blood ran cold, and her mind was fil ed with one thought, one

name: Rodger! She wheeled Nimbus about and struck her on

the rump. She gal oped past a startled Hutton, crying, "Back!

Back!"

Rosamond rode into the stable in a flurry of hooves. "Saddle

me a swift horse, quick, quickly!" Her order was so urgent, two

young grooms obeyed her immediately. Without a moment's

hesitation, she sprang onto the big black stal ion they had

saddled and dug her heels into its bel y, knowing she was in a

race against time. Her mind was paralyzed by fear, but her

instinct compel ed her to ride like the wind. Rosamond knew

she must reach Worcester and warn her husband of the

danger that threatened his life.

The entire countryside surrounding Worcester was covered by

the camps of men-at-arms, and as she reached the town, she

saw that the streets were packed with soldiers. Rosamond

had had no idea Edward's army was so vast. She began to

panic; how would she find Rodger in this multitude? Instinct

drove her to seek out Edward, perhaps in the castle, for

wherever the prince was, Rodger de Leyburn would likely be

close by.

She got as far as the bailey, but it was so overcrowded by the

mounted men who were streaming in through the north gate,

that they overflowed onto the adjoining grounds of Worcester

Cathedral. Their surcoats and weapons were bloodied and

Rosamond realized they must be returning from warfare

somewhere. Anxiety for Rodger almost overwhelmed her.

What if he were already lost to her? She could not bear the

thought that they had parted in anger and mistrust. Rodger

was her love, her life!

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As royal steward, Rod was trying to maintain order amid

mayhem. They had brought back so many horses that once

the castle and cathedral grounds were fil ed, he had no choice

but to direct them into the graveyard. The dog-tired men could

sleep on the gravestones, and there was plenty of grass for

their horses to crop. When he saw the beautiful female in

emerald green, with her golden hair tumbling about her

shoulders, mounted on the huge black stal ion, he was

momentarily thunderstruck. "Rosamond? Rosamond!"

She heard her name over the pandemonium, and saw him

immediately. He was off his horse in a flash, lifting her down in

protective arms. "What the devil are you doing among these

rough soldiers? Is it the baby?"

"No, no, he's fine. Oh, Rodger, thank God you are not dead . . .

thank God you are not wounded!" She always forgot how

compel ing his physical presence was. The impact of it was

stunning. She clung to him, seeking the strength he exuded.

"Rodger, please forgive me for doubting you?" she

beseeched. "My darling, I want you to know, you have al my

trust, al my love!"

trust, al my love!"

His powerful hand stroked her wildly disheveled hair, and he

offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she loved him enough

to forgive him. His arms enfolded her possessively.

"Sweetheart, were you not terrified of this brute of a stal ion?"

She shook her head impatiently. "I had to get here to warn

you. Simon de Montfort and the baronial army are crossing

the Avon at Per-shore!"

"My love, that's impossible. First he has to cross the Severn."

"Rodger, I swear it on my life! I saw them with my own eyes!"

He held her at arm's length and looked down into those lovely

violet eyes that were imploring him to believe her. Then he

glanced up at the black stal ion she had ridden, and his doubt

vanished. Rosamond had not only risked her life, she had

done more, she had overcome one of her deepest fears to

bring him this message. Moreover, it proved that she had

final y taken sides in the conflict that tore England apart, and

the side she had chosen was his! He swept her up in powerful

arms, mounted Stygian, and grabbed the reins of the horse

she had ridden. "Come on, my brave beauty, we had better

find Edward."

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Twenty-eight

Worcester's Great Hal was packed shoulder to shoulder with

men who were eating for the first time in almost three days.

The trestle tables had been stacked against the wal s to make

more room for the hungry horde. Even Lord Edward and his

lieutenants up on the dais, stil clad in their leathers and

hauberks, ate where they stood.

Edward, in a jubilant mood from his resounding victory, hailed

Rod and his beautiful wife. One huge hand held a whole

haunch of venison, and the other, a quart jug of ale. "I am

ravenous! Forgive my manners, Rosamond, though I know you

believe princes have none!" He grinned at Rod. "You lucky

devil, how I wish my Eleanora were close enough to welcome

me home from battle!"

"My lord, she has ridden hel -for-leather to warn us that Simon

de Montfort's army is crossing the Avon at Pershore."

Edward waved the half-devoured hindquarter. "That's

impossible, he hasn't yet crossed the Severn. Gilbert would

have detected such a large movement of troops."

Rosamond was aghast. "Gilbert is a boy of sixteen!"

"When your husband here was sixteen, he was a ful -grown

man capable of command, make no mistake."

Rod frowned. "With four thousand Gloucester men-at-arms

under his banner, Gilbert should have prevented the barons

from crossing the River Severn into England."

"Bones of Christ! Owen, find me Gilbert de Clare on the

double; if that miserable redheaded miscreant has been

sleeping while we've been defeating the bloody barons, I'l

have his bal s!" Edward continued his tirade. "I've been gone only three days. Three fucking days to march to Kenilworth,

defeat the barons, and march back to Worcester with their

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horses and banners! He has four thousand men at his

command, yet it takes one female to bring me the news I

need!"

Edward dispatched scouts immediately and ordered his

lieutenants to the map room for a council of war. "Warn your

soldiers to be ready to march again," he told them.

Rodger de Leyburn beckoned his squire, then turned to

Rosamond. "Griffin wil see you safely back to Pershore. I

would sel my soul for an hour alone with you, chérie; I love you

more than life!" Tenderly he brushed back the tangled tresses

from her brow and touched his lips to hers. Then his mouth

sought her ear and he whispered, "I kiss your heart,

Rosamond."

She wanted to cling to him and beg him to take care of

himself. Neither he nor his men had had any sleep in days, yet

the battle of a lifetime awaited him. Rosamond knew she must

be strong, knew she must convince her husband that she

believed in his invincibility, though dread for him coiled inside

her bel y. She did not dare to say goodbye, for fear she would

never see him again. Instead, she gave him a radiant smile

and told him something she knew would bring him happiness.

"I've decided our son's name wil be Rodger!"

He looked jubilant. "You honor me, my love."

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

had just given him the unwelcome news that the baronial army

had crossed the River Severn at Kempsey, only four miles

south of Worcester. It was obvious that Simon's spies had