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."

She 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."