Chapter 15

Fordwich, Kent

After issuing warrants for the arrests of Bartholomew Badlesmere and the leading Marcher barons, King Edward travelled west, accompanied by many of the lords who'd rallied to his side at Leeds. Richard of Sussex remained behind to oversee Badlesmere's lands, currently in the hands of royal keepers. He was also appointed constable of Dover Castle and travelled to nearby Chilham Castle, where he set up primary residence. Chilham was Badlesmere's birthplace and had been granted to him by King Edward in 1312. But Badlesmere was an outlaw now and all his property forfeit.

Richard enjoyed Chilham, not only because of its peaceful atmosphere, but for its proximity to Phillip Rendell. Phillip's quiet companionship provided a calming influence, and these days Richard was in need of calming. On December 8, 1321, his brother had ruled that the decree banishing the Despensers was invalid and officially recalled his favorites to England.

"Treachery!" the Marcher lords cried, and, led by Roger Mortimer, hurried north to seek support from Thomas Lancaster. Lancaster accused the Despensers of piracy and the king of supporting them and gave his royal cousin until December 20 to respond to his accusations.

Edward, however, was done with negotiating. Sensing that their sovereign's star was in the ascendancy, several of his former Marcher enemies rode to Cirencester, where His Grace resided, and officially submitted to him. Lancaster's own knights and bannerets, increasingly upset over Thomas's treatment of England's rightful sovereign, also began deserting him. Well pleased with events, Edward made plans for Christmas, and afterward, for a final confrontation with Lancaster.

Angry and hurt over his brother's broken promises, Richard vowed to stay as far removed from politics as possible. He spent most afternoons and evenings at Fordwich Castle, where spiced malmsey and laughter flowed freely and their king's machinations could temporarily be forgotten.

With his knowledge of everything from alchemy and philosophy to travel, Hugh d'Arderne was an interesting conversationalist; the burgeoning relationship between Michael Hallam and the lady Eleanora provided Richard secret amusement, and little Tom was an enjoyable substitute for the royal princes, whom he missed.

Only Maria Rendell caused Richard a measure of disquiet. She had grown into a true beauty, with a lushness of face and form that made a man think of bed sport, though her innocence, not to mention her obvious love for her husband, were obvious.

Easy enough, he told himself, not to dwell on her. Surrounded as he was by servants, courtiers, and sycophants who desired his company only for their own material gain, Richard knew how dearly bought was true friendship. He only trusted two men, Michael Hallam and Phillip Rendell, with his life and his love. Increasingly, he reminded himself that no woman, no matter how desirable, was worth the price of a friendship.

* * *

On the afternoon of December 21, Maria bundled up little Tom and rode to Fordwich town. Phillip was trying to finish their son's Christmas gift, a set of wooden weapons, and found it impossible with Tom relentlessly trailing him.

Hoping to please her husband, Maria had suggested the excursion. "Today is the feast day of Tom's namesake. I thought I would surprise him with a visit to Fordwich's quay and then to the George and Dragon for a tart."

Phillip rewarded her with a smile which caused Maria to leave Fordwich Castle in an ebullient mood. Sometimes her husband seemed so withdrawn, which made her strive all the harder to earn his love. Since Richard of Sussex's frequent visits, she fancied that Phillip was becoming even more distant. She worried that Sussex was once again usurping her position.

Of course it was only natural that Phillip prefer a friend's company—or any man's company—to his wife's. And if Phillip should love her too ardently, priests might consider him an adulterer, so perhaps he was simply being mindful of potential sin.

Maria understood such matters with her mind, but not with her heart. Which was another disadvantage of being a woman, she supposed—the inability to comprehend complicated thoughts and emotions.

Thus, when she sensed a new restlessness, she assured herself she must be mistaken. Phillip was simply responding to the idle talk of travel that helped pass long winter evenings. Maria sighed. Not knowing what, if anything, might be wrong sometimes made trying to please her beloved as frustrating as tilting with shadows.

Tom chattered all the way into Fordwich, pointing and questioning and bouncing about in Maria's arms until he nearly fell off Facebelle, the dainty grey mare Phillip had given her on their fourth wedding anniversary.

"Now once we get to town, sweetheart, we must stop at Dame Dane's for a beaver hat to warm Grandpere's ears. Then we will visit Sara the Churchkeeper for she makes sewing gloves just the way Aunt Eleanora likes."

"And what shall I get for m-my saint's day, Maman?" When Tom was excited he tended to stutter.

"You'll just have to wait, poppet. If I tell you now 'twill spoil the surprise."

The road was muddy and framed with piles of dirty snow. On either side of Moat and Well Lane spread tracts of farmland belonging to St. Augustine's Abbey, land that had once belonged to the d'Ardernes. Every time Maria passed by or thought of the Leopard's Head in Sturry, which had been sold to Abbot John Fyndunne to finance the Cherry Fair the year of her betrothal, her mood darkened.

How well she remembered that time... And all that had followed...

Fordwich town was in a festive mood with clusters of mistletoe and ribbon-laced pine wreaths hanging on cottage doors. In front of various residences, children were singing wassailing ditties, after which listeners rewarded them by dropping fruit into their outstretched sacks.

Maria and her son dismounted at the corner of High and King Street.

"M-may I do that, M-maman?" an excited Tom asked, pointing to the children. "What exactly are they doing?"

"They are going mumping." Bending down, Maria pulled Tom's mantle closer about his neck against the cold. "Children go mumping in honor of your saint, who is the finest in all the world." She kissed the top of his head. "As you are the finest son."

She did not notice Richard of Sussex until he reined in his white stallion and called a greeting. When Maria looked up she was momentarily caught off guard, thinking how masculine, how vividly alive the earl looked contrasted to the drab sky and grey day.

Maria suddenly thought of Eleanora's reaction upon first meeting their lord.

With a startled gasp, she had said, "He is the golden knight of my dreams."

Whenever Maria pondered her twin's words, she felt a thrill of foreboding.

What has Lord Sussex to do with me? she often wondered.

Perhaps the dream had more to do with some sort of political matter. Dreams could be interpreted in so many different ways that even soothsayers could be confused. More troubling, however, was the earl's curious effect on Maria, which sometimes left her feeling breathless.

Crossing his hands across the pommel of his saddle, Richard studied the Lady Rendell with more familiarity than during his nightly visits. Away from Fordwich and Phillip he felt freer to openly admire her beauty. In the middle of a busy street what harm could come of it?

"'Tis a pleasant surprise to meet you so unexpectedly, m'lady."

"Good day, my lord." She curtsied as best she could in her cumbersome clothing and holding her son's hand.

A cart rumbled past, followed by a yapping mongrel. She pulled little Tom closer to Fordwich's Watergate House, away from the road and the curious stares that Lord Sussex's presence always created. The Sturry Whore, Ivetta Smythe, passed on her way to the George and Dragon. Maria saw Richard's startled look as he noticed the prostitute.

He will mark on my resemblance to her, Maria thought, uncomfortable. Rumor was Hugh's only brother, a casualty of Bannockburn, had been Smythe's father but, whether true or not, Maria preferred not to ponder such... complications.

Rather than speak, Richard exchanged a glance with Michael Hallam, who shook his head and turned away, his expression glum.

Tom piped, "'Tis my feast day, sire, did you know? Maman brought me to town for treats."

Following a last glance at Ivetta Smythe, Richard dismounted and bent down to Tom's level. "Why, 'tis so. And what a grand saint Thomas the Apostle was. Tell me everything you know about him."

"He built buildings, he did. Fine ones. M-maman told me all about them. And one time a king in a far off land asked him to build a beautiful palace, so Thomas agreed, and the king gave him a castle full of gold."

Laughing, Richard glanced up at Maria. His manner was friendly without being over-intimate, though she found it difficult to respond in a natural way.

"And what did St. Thomas do with all the king's gold?"

"He spent it on the poor and the king had him killed."

"What a smart lad you are!" Richard ruffled Tom's hair. Reaching inside his tunic he withdrew his coin purse. "I do not have a castle filled with gold, but I hope this will please you."

He placed several shiny coins in Tom's palm; the three-year-old studied them with wide-eyed delight.

"Thank you, sire. You've pleased him greatly." The directness of Richard's gaze unnerved her. "Now, darlin', we must be getting to Sara the Churchkeeper's for your aunt's gloves. Thank Lord Sussex—"

"And what would you desire from me, Lady Rendell?"

Stunned by the question, Maria was even more unprepared by the challenge in Richard's voice. Or did she imagine it?

"What would you have from your liege lord this Christmas season?"

Richard was near as surprised as she that he had spoken so boldly. "'Tis customary that I present gifts to my vassals," he quickly added. "And these past weeks you have all pleased me greatly."

Maria searched her lord's face. He was right, of course. A man's greatness was partially determined by his extravagance to his friends and subjects. She groped about for some innocuous reply, but her mind remained blank. A priest passed and after a curious stare, disappeared inside Watergate House.

Abbot Fyndunne sometimes stays at Watergate.

"I want the Leopard's Head," she blurted.

"And what might the Leopard's Head be?"

"A manor house in Sturry. It belonged to our family until Papa had to sell to Abbot Fyndunne and the Canterbury monks in order to finance one of our Cherry Fairs."

Though a smile curved Richard's lips, he studied her intently. "I know Abbot Fyndunne well. We dine together whene'er I visit."

Probably at our house. Aloud, "I want the Leopard's Head back, my lord."

She was not even sure why she asked. Since her marriage to Phillip, the family's fortunes had greatly improved.

Am I trying to prove something to Mother? That I need not marriage to an old man in order to prosper?

Why should Henrietta's approval matter, and why after nearly five years should she be thinking of Edmund Leybourne? Both dead. A sudden shiver, which had naught to do with the wind, raced through her.

Eyes never leaving her face, Richard said, "You surprise me." As if weighing the meaning behind her request. "Your lord husband told me you were without ambition."

Maria inwardly blanched at the implied criticism. She did sound bold and grasping—as grasping as the Despensers. And why was Phillip discussing her with his lord? What secrets had he shared? Did he complain about what a trial she was, confess that he was sorry he married her? And why was Richard looking at her so strangely?

Tom tugged at her arm. "Hurry, M-Maman, so I can show my gold to Papa."

As she followed her son, she lamented her foolishness. She should have told Lord Sussex she'd changed her mind about the Leopard's Head. Or asked for something sensible like a mantle or a bracelet or ear bobs.

Or better yet, nothing at all.

* * *

On Christmas Eve Lord Sussex arrived at Fordwich like the magi, bearing gifts. While Twelfth Night was more the common time for exchanging presents, Richard would be at Dover Castle and was excited to share his surprises. Especially one.

Michael Hallam followed, arms burdened with packages wrapped in blue cloth edged in gold.

At sight of Richard's squire, Eleanora's cheeks flushed a becoming pink. Unconsciously she smoothed the folds of her kirtle, and as she retrieved the packages from Michael, smiled up at him. More surprisingly, to Maria at least, Michael smiled back.

'Twill take a wilder nature than yours, sister, to tame that one.

"Has the weather yet cleared?" Hugh asked, retrieving Richard's mantle.

"Aye, 'tis beautiful." Richard stomped the snow clinging to his boots. "I'll wager our Blessed Savior was born on just such a night."

They left the great hall for the cozier solar and settled in around the fire. Hugh dipped them each a bowl of wassail from the cauldron bubbling over the flames and Richard handed them each a cloth-wrapped gift.

All save Maria.

Stung by the affront, she pretended great interest in Tom's present—a miniature wooden army. As her son carefully inspected each tiny knight in helm and hauberk astride his painted warhorse, she felt a twinge of anger. Not only was Richard being rude, but the gloves and cap she'd so painstakingly fashioned for Tom now lay forgotten.

"Look here, daughter." Hugh hobbled over to Maria. "'Tis a copy of Walter Henley's Stewardship. Another book! Is that not grand?" Books were so expensive Hugh's library contained only a half dozen.

Maria tried to muster the appropriate enthusiasm. As she did over Eleanora's carved sewing box crammed with everything from needles to fine scissors of Toledo steel—and, tucked away in a removable compartment, an exquisite pair of sewing gloves.

"They are from Dame Sara's. I heard you well liked her gloves." For the first time Richard looked at Maria. She turned her head away. Soon his slight would be apparent. Not even a man of Lord Sussex's stature could purchase from Mother Church what was not for sale. Besides, Maria was certain he'd not even tried. When the questions began she would have to explain her brazen cupidity. Would Phillip, too, react as Richard had done? "I thought you were without ambition, wife. I see I am mistaken."

Phillip stood before the fireplace inspecting a palm-size globe. The world's countries, outlined in silver and gold, shimmered in the light from the hearth fire.

"I had the countries you've visited outlined in silver," Richard said.

Phillip's fingers gently traced various boundaries. "There is more gold than silver here."

"Aye." Richard said. "'Twould seem you still have a bit of travelling to do."

Feeling despair, Maria watched her husband. You've never gazed at me with such delight. Even when we are making love. And why, why had Sussex broached that accursed subject?

Richard turned to Maria. "You've not yet received your present, Lady Rendell. I have saved the best for last."

Reluctantly she accepted a package shaped like a book. Whatever its contents she felt like throwing it—along with Phillip's globe—into the fire.

"Thank you, sire." She made no move to open it.

"Come along, daughter," urged Hugh. "Let us all see what our lord has given you."

Reluctantly, she removed the cloth, which revealed an unadorned leather bound document. Aye, a book.

"Look inside, m'lady," Richard said.

A folded parchment nestled within. A deed. With suddenly trembling fingers she removed the ribbon, but she did not need to read the ornate Latin script to decipher its contents. "You did it," she whispered. "I did not really think such a thing possible."

"There are always ways."

She looked into his eyes. "My lord," she breathed, overcome.

Phillip moved closer. "What has our lord given you, wife?"

"The deed for the Leopard's Head. Lord Sussex and I were talking... 'Twas a stupid request I should not have made. But you actually did it." She grinned. "Jesu, I'll wager Abbot Fyndunne was most displeased."

"I have seen happier men."

"I did not know that you two had discussed this matter." Phillip's manner was wary, like a stag alert to a sudden shift in the wind.

"We didn't, really," Richard said smoothly. "'Twas just something mentioned in passing." He bent to help little Tom set a knight astride his destrier.

Maria ran her fingers across the writing, imagining the lengths the earl had gone to please her, (You did this for me!), the difference the return of the Leopard's Head would make in the d'Arderne family fortunes, (I am indeed a responsible daughter, Mother!), and perversely pleased by the sudden tension in the room. (Have a care, husband, if you think to treat me so lightly.)

"You are a most generous lord," Phillip said to Richard. Then after an enigmatic look at his wife, he returned to the fireplace and forgotten globe in hand, stared into the flames.