Chapter 32

Deerhurst

Deerhurst's fields stretched in a ghostly blanket, deserted save for cows drifting toward a milking shed and occasional flocks of bleating sheep. Approaching the manor castle's graceful crenellated towers, Maria was too exhausted to worry about her probable stormy reception. She'd been walking since early morn, and her wet boots had rubbed painful blisters. She was increasingly plagued by sharp, insistent contractions.

"Do not betray me now," she whispered. "Just a bit longer. Then, if we're lucky, we will enjoy some hot spiced malmsey and a bed." If Phillip didn't turn them away.

Pray to God her husband was at Deerhurst, for she did not know where else to seek help and 'twas her manor as well. The city of Hereford would be crawling with the queen's loyalists. Even if Maria reached it, what kindness could she expect from townspeople who had so gleefully destroyed Hugh Despenser?

At the first sight of riders she'd been careful to hide in the nearest ditch, wood or shelter. While Roger Mortimer remained her greatest fear, England was filled with those who shared his sentiments. She dared not trust anyone.

When Maria reached the castle drawbridge, the sergeant-at-arms, who was beginning to lower the portcullis, challenged her entrance.

"I beg a bit of bread and a place out of the wind for the night, nothing more." Maria did not recognize the man. How odd that, less than eight months past, she'd been Deerhurst's chatelaine. The sergeant looked her over, then with a grunt waved her past. "Be off with you then."

Servants were scurrying from the nearby cookhouse. The fragrant dinner smells made her stomach growl. Of a sudden her knees buckled. She collapsed against the castle curtain until the wave of exhaustion passed. Then she approached a page dawdling at the cookhouse entrance.

"Sirrah, might I speak with you a moment?" She did not recognize this lad either.

The page's eyes widened when he took note of her manly attire and protruding belly. "Aye... madam."

"Could you tell me whether Sir Rendell is in residence?"

"That he is." The lad cocked his head to one side, studying her. "I saw him in the hall not an hour past."

After pausing to consider, Maria slipped her marriage ring from her finger and placed it in his hand. "Would you take this to Sir Rendell and ask him to meet me in Deerhurst's chapel?"

"'Tis nearing suppertime and I have duties..."

Fumbling with the clasp of a silver and amethyst locket, Maria removed it from around her neck and placed it beside her ring. "The necklace has some value. If you will but relay my message, 'tis yours."

The page pocketed the locket, nodded and spun on his heels.

In the chill gloom of the chapel Maria awaited Phillip. She slumped against a wall in the nave, near the font where Tom had been baptized. He'd been such a sweet babe and now she might never see him again, as she might never see Richard.

Wearily, she sank to the ground and placed her head on her knees. She must have dozed. When she finally became aware of approaching footsteps and raised her head, she saw, not Phillip, but his older brother.

"You!" Humphrey Rendell hissed. "When Grimald showed me the ring I couldna believe you would be so bold as to show up here. But I should have known. You are brazen enough to attempt anything."

Maria struggled to her feet. "I would talk with my husband, Sir Humphrey." Oddly, she found it difficult to form her words. "I did not know you were master of Deerhurst as well as Winchcomb." She tried to look past Humphrey's bulk, but she was having trouble focusing her vision and her thoughts.

"Your husband is not here, for which I thank God. Now be gone before I call my men to extricate—"

"I need not you to fight my battles, Humphrey." Phillip, who had entered unnoticed, moved between his brother and Maria. "I will take care of this myself."

After a cursing, muttering Humphrey left, Phillip addressed her.

"What you are doing here and why you are dressed so strangely." His eyes carefully remained away from her stomach. "Where is Sussex?"

"Mortimer has him. We were bound for sanctuary, to Wales, when he captured us, not far from here. I escaped, but Mortimer is taking our lord to London where he intends to have him die a traitor's death."

Phillip thought of Hugh Despenser's body, twisting from the gallows, its thud as it plummeted to the earth, the thump of his head as the executioner cleaved it from his body....

"So..."

He turned away, struggling with the images and a past he could never escape. His lord and his wife lying together. He saw them as clearly in his mind's eye as if he'd personally witnessed their betrayal.

"What do I care for Sussex's fate?" he asked softly. "I hate him with a lasting hatred. You were a fool to come here seeking help."

'Tis my home too, she wanted to say. But instead she managed, "I had nowhere else to go." If her limbs didn't feel so impossibly heavy, perhaps she could reach out and touch him, as if that might somehow miraculously bridge the gap separating them. "Who would have thought we would come to this?" she whispered. "I loved you so much. I still do...."

Phillip's mouth twisted. "Aye. Your body shows ample proof of that."

"If you had stayed I would never have turned to him."

Phillip sighed. "You and our lord were as inevitable as rain in spring," he said softly. "I know that now. Perhaps I long knew it—though I pretended otherwise. But I cannot forgive you. You belonged to me, Maria. You were my property and nothing in heaven or hell had the right to take what was mine. I did not ask or want much—a loyal wife and one man I could call friend as well as lord."

"Richard is your friend; he loves you well." A sudden sharp contraction caused her to press her hand against her belly.

"I do not call it friendship to steal another man's wife." A spasm of emotion flickered across his face. "I am so poor with words. I cannot sort things out in my mind, or in my heart, it seems. I only know that I am not capable of forgiveness." He looked beyond her to the shadowed altar. "Did you know, wife, I had to force myself to stay away? Two weeks after I left England, I wanted nothing so much as to return, but I kept telling myself I was weak, that if I just went to Paris, then Milan, and then Rome the excitement would return. There wasn't one day that I did not think of you and the children."

"Then why did you not return? Everything could have been so different."

"I think not, and that is why I cannot help Sussex, even if I would. He chose to remain loyal to King Edward. He knew then the risk he took. We cannot cheat our destiny. Not even our lord would say different."

Maria kept her hand upon her stomach. Mercifully, no more contractions. Not now when it was so important that she make her husband understand...

"But we do not know our lord is meant to die. Mayhap he is meant to be rescued, to return and wrest England from Mortimer's tyranny. We must try. Perhaps to do less is cheating destiny, not fulfilling it."

Drained beyond further argument she slumped against the chapel stones. Perhaps Phillip was right. Why struggle and scheme and have your heart torn out by hurt and love and unhappiness when life was but a shadow passing on a wall?

She felt the lightest contraction. Then another, more insistent. Something warm trailed down her leg. Maria knew that her water had broken, that she was going into labor. The chapel receded. Darkness seemed to swallow her. Raising her arm, she clutched for support at empty air.

"Hold on to me." Phillip voice emanated from a long narrow tunnel. "I will send for a midwife."

Maria leaned against him. She thought she nodded in agreement, but she couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered, any of it. She understood the most important thing—that she was about to lose her babe.

* * *

A damp washing cloth rested cool upon her forehead. Maria tried to open her eyes but the effort was too great. How long had she been lying here? She had lost all track of time and had only a vague recollection of what had occurred around her. Far in the distance she heard church bells. Deerhurst's bells had rung to aid her through Tom and Blanche's birthing, but she knew they were not now ringing for that reason.

"Here, sweetheart," said a gentle voice. "Drink this." Hands eased her up. She looked into Lady Jean Rendell's face. Aye, now she remembered. Phillip had sent to Winchcomb for his sister-in-law as well as a midwife, and then disappeared.

"Thank you for staying. I did not want to be alone." Maria's voice sounded so weak she could scarce believe it was her own.

Lady Jean's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she managed a smile. "You have been asleep for hours. Rest is always a good thing."

Maria did not want to ask the question, but she knew she must. To complete her loss. "My babe did not live, of course?"

Jean's face crumpled. She shook her head and turned away.

Wearily Maria closed her eyes. A part of her wanted to ask after her child, whether it had been boy or girl, large or small. But it was none of those things. It was simply dead.

* * *

Maria awakened from a dreamless sleep, momentarily disoriented. The room was familiar but it was not Fordwich. She'd lain in this bed with her children, hadn't she? But Tom was serving his apprenticeship and Blanche was at Fordwich and beyond that she would not ponder...

The door opened and Lady Jean entered, bearing a tray of gruel and oatcakes. "You look much improved this morning."

"I do not feel improved. I feel... empty."

Jean reached out and patted her hand. "Every woman loses at least one child. 'Tis the natural order of things."

Tears slipped from Maria's eyes. "Nay, 'tis retribution. And there will be more. I have lost my husband and Mortimer said he would send me my Lord Sussex's head."

Jean groped for the proper words. Her quiet conventional life seemed so far removed from her sister-in-law's she was not certain what might soothe her. "Your son is here, you know. Would you like to see him?"

"Tom?" The first joyous leap of emotion was quickly extinguished. "He must hate me also, does he not? Has my lord husband told him everything?"

Jean's cheeks turned to a mottled pink. "Lord Rendell is not a monster. He would not turn a son against his mother."

Maria swiveled her head against the pillow. "I would not blame him if he did."

At that moment the door opened, and Phillip strode into the solar. He was wearing his hauberk, and a black jupon without identification of any sort. When he pushed back his coif Maria saw that his face was drawn and streaked with dirt.

Jean leapt to her feet. "I was just leaving." After throwing Phillip an anxious smile, she hurried from the room.

Phillip crossed to Maria's bed, and looked down at her. "Sussex has escaped."

"What?" Maria struggled to sit up. "How do you know?"

"I have made inquiries. It seems a pack of knights descended on Mortimer when his troops left Brackley Castle this morning. His men were careless. They did not take proper precautions. Rebel knights attacked and in the press Sussex escaped."

"I do not understand. Men still loyal to King Edward? But I thought all of England was against him."

Phillip turned toward the chamber window. His profile appeared worked in stone. "I am just relaying what I was told."

Maria tried to assimilate this stunning news. Phillip would not again risk his life for Richard, would he? Had he left her, not because he scorned her, but because he'd ridden to save their lord? Why would he? Why should he?

"My lord is free then, and safe?" At least Maria would have one thing to be thankful for. At least God was not extracting his full measure of vengeance at one time.

"I did not say he was safe. I heard he was wounded, though I know not how badly. Mortimer is scouring the hills for him. But 'tis treacherous terrain there, where a man is better served on foot than horseback."

Maria sank back against the pillows. "But not a wounded man," she said tonelessly. "He will be all alone with no one to care for him." She plucked at the edge of the woolen coverlet. "He will die alone."

"We all must die sometime. And I would prefer dying peacefully with the sun upon me and a blue sky hovering overhead rather than an executioner's axe." He paused. "Michael Hallam was killed in the escape."

"Not Michael!" Maria could sooner imagine Richard's death than that of his squire, who seemed indestructible. She felt fresh tears well up inside, forced them back. If she was going to cry over every tragedy she would weep the rest of her days. "How did he die?"

"When the knights attacked, Mortimer meant to kill Sussex right then. Hallam took the sword instead. Or so I was told."

"Poor Eleanora." Maria raised her eyes to Phillip. Death was all around her now. "You know I lost the babe."

Phillip looked away. "Aye."

"'Tis what I deserved. But it will be... hard."

"Much of life is hard," Phillip whispered. "Much of life is not what we expected."

Maria remembered their first meeting, near ten years past. She had thought him so wonderful, a figure from a romance. She could still find him so. But perhaps her perception had accounted for their problem. She had fallen in love with her idea of what a man should be, not who he truly was. She'd cheated Phillip, but more, she'd cheated herself.

"Thank you for Richard."

Phillip turned away so that she could not see his face.