The Marriage Prize (9 page)

had as many dishes before them at noon as the people of

Kenilworth and their noble guests had at an evening banquet.

The steward arose, obviously annoyed to have his dinner

interrupted. He was a thickset man, whose face looked like

lumpy porridge, but his tunic was made of the finest velvet,

and he wore a gold chain. He eyed Rosamond and Nan

insolently. "State your business."

Rosamond drew herself up to her ful height and lifted her chin.

"I am Rosamond Marshal, come to inspect my property, sir,

and what I find displeases me!"

"That's too bad. I am in ful authority here."

"I am the mistress of Pershore!"

"I am Dymock, master of Pershore. You are nothing more than

a young girl with her middle-aged nurse in tow. You don't

seriously think you can come in here and start tossing out

orders?"

"Just watch me, Master Dymock... I dismiss you from my

service for your insolence!"

He laughed derisively. "Wel , Lady Muck of Turd Hal , you can't

dismiss me. I was appointed by the Earl of Gloucester to

manage Pershore as I see fit. I've had no complaints from that

quarter in the three years I've been in charge here."

At that moment, Rosamond's groom came seeking her in the

hal . "My lady, the stables are filthy; the stal s cannot have been cleaned out in months. The stableman refused me fodder, and

it is no fit place to shelter our horses."

She gasped in outrage at his blackening eye. "Did the

bastard strike you, Ned?" She slashed her riding crop against

her boot. "I shal come and see the conditions for myself. In the meantime, Master Dymock, you wil see that this lady is

served lunch. Sit down, Nan; this might take me a little while."

As Rosamond entered the stables, the acrid stench of manure

and urine-soaked straw hit her ful force. She hesitated for only

a moment, then, pinching her nostrils closed, she strode

inside. She found the place as filthy as Ned had described it.

There were only a half-dozen horses stabled, but it appeared

that when their six stal s had been fouled to a depth of two

feet, the animals had been moved to other stal s, where the

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cycle was repeated. Rosamond was furious at the condition of

the stables, and cursed herself for bringing only one groom,

when Lady Eleanor had offered her as many servants as she

wanted.

Summoning her authority, she spoke to the only stableman

present, a burly lout with a red face. "I am Rosamond Marshal,

and Pershore belongs to me. First, I want you to understand

that I wil not tolerate you abusing my groom. I have five

horses, including my two pack animals, that need food, water,

and shelter."

"Dymock would have my bal s if I gave your animals fodder."

He stood before the oat bins with arms folded across his

barrel chest. Rosamond was so angry, she raised her riding

crop, but he snatched it away from her with a beefy hand.

"You'l find yourself on your arse in the horseshit, and he'l have another black eye, unless you get the hel out of my stable."

"You filthy swine, I hope you suffocate in this stench! Come,

Ned, I'l help you draw water from the wel for our animals."

"I'l do it, my lady.... I'm sorry I was no match for him."

"I shal help you, Ned; I must work off my anger before it

chokes me. I am beginning to realize a female has no

authority whatever. Even though I own every inch of land, and

every stick and stone upon it, the men wil not take orders from

me. In the name of God, how does Lady Eleanor manage to

run Kenilworth?"

"Begging your pardon, my lady, she doesn't do it in the name

of God, she does it in the name of Simon de Montfort. If a lady

has a man of strength and power behind her, al run to do her

bidding."

Digesting the truth of his words, Rosamond carried a wooden

bucket of water to Nimbus. "We'l have to tether the horses in

the meadow behind the stable, Ned. The night wil be cold, but

at least they'l be able to forage the stubble from the hay crop.

We shal leave tomorrow!"

When they had done al they could for their horses, Rosamond

helped Ned carry in their own luggage. Then she bade him

fol ow her into the dining hal so they could eat. Dymock was

nowhere in sight, but the rest of the servants were stil at the

table. Nan was sitting exactly where she had left her, but

Rosamond could clearly see she had been served no food. It

was the last straw. Her temper exploded.

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She strode over to the head table with the light of battle in her

eyes. "I have taken al the abuse I am going to take." She

raised her arm and swept everything from the table to the

floor. Molded jel ies were awash with gravy, and giblets floated

about in a river of spil ed wine, while pewter plates and

goblets rol ed across the flagstone floor. "If we don't t eat, you don't eat!"

Rosamond headed toward Pershore's kitchen, summoning

Nan and Ned to fol ow her. The cook had three chins and her

red face branded her the twin of the brute in the stables. "This

is my kitchen. Get out!" the cook ordered insolendy.

Rosamond grabbed a long-handled ladle made of heavy

copper and brandished it with intent to maim. "Stand back,

you fat bitch, or I wil spit you over your own fire and render you

down to a tub of lard. We wil feed ourselves, which certainly

won't be hard with the amount of food lying about this kitchen. I

have never seen such wil ful waste in my life! Nan, prepare

three plates for us. Ned, fil that basket with cheese, fruit, and

wine; we'l take it upstairs for later." Rosamond picked up a

meat skewer and prodded the cook's bel y. "Your days of

ruling the roost in my kitchen are numbered. Now, get out of

my sight, you're ruining my appetite."

When they ventured into the rest of Pershore, they found

neglect of every kind. The chambers were filthy and damp, the

furnishings rotted and dilapidated, except for the cozy rooms

occupied by the servants. The rest of the dwel ing had been

left without fires, and the dampness had mildewed the

hangings and even the stone wal s.

It took the three of them al afternoon to make a bedchamber

with an alcove habitable. Ned chopped and hauled up wood

for the fire. Nan helped Rosamond lift a couple of mattresses

before the flames, then she scrubbed the wooden floor, while

her mistress washed the mildew from the wal s and cleaned

the windows. "Thank the saints in heaven that Lady Eleanor

suggested I bring my own linen; I vow I shal never travel

without it from this day forth. Ned, you wil have to sleep in the

alcove; I'm afraid we won't be safe unless we al stay

together."

They ate supper in the chamber, before the fire, then

Rosamond lit a couple of scented candles she'd brought. "We

have no choice but to return to Kenilworth tomorrow. When I

report the dreadful conditions at Pershore to my cousin

Richard, I'm sure he wil look into it for me.

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He can have little idea what's been going on here." She

looked at her companions. "Thank you both so much for

helping me. I feel wretched about this."

"It's not your fault, my lamb. I think I packed warm quilted

bedgowns for us, and we'l need them in this place. You look

tired to death. Let's al get some rest; we've a long ride

tomorrow."

As Rosamond lay watching the shadows flicker on the wal ,

she was angry with herself. Though Nan had been kind

enough to declare it wasn't her fault, Rosamond knew she

must take the blame for what she had found here at Pershore.

She was the one who had neglected her lovely property,

content to al ow others to administer her Marshal lands and

holdings, while she stayed safe, happy, and oblivious at her

haven of Kenilworth.

Rosamond did not dare let go of her anger, for once she did,

she would sink into despair. Never in her life had she felt so

helpless, useless, and insignificant. A young, unwed female

had less authority than one of the mangy dogs in the bailey.

Even they had a measure of control over the geese they

chased. The last thing she wanted to do was run back to

Kenilworth in defeat, crying for help, but she knew she had no

choice but to swal ow her pride.

Rosamond furiously told herself to hang on for just a few more

hours, that things always looked better in the light of day. The

lump in her throat almost choked her. Last night, thoughts of

Sir Rickard de Burgh had left her heartbroken. Tonight,

Pershore made her feel as if her spirit was close to breaking.

Five

At Kenilworth, most of the day was taken up by military

exercises in and around the mere. It was discovered that

some soldiers could not even swim, so that was the first

lesson that had to be taught. Lord Edward and Sir Rodger

noticed that the men from Wales had little trouble after long

hours in the water, and questioned their Welsh squires.

Griffin, who was not short and dark like most Welshmen, but

tal and fair, grinned at Rod. "There are so many wild rivers in

Wales that if you didn't learn to swim across raging waters,

you'd drown. It's as simple as that!"

"I admire their skil with the longbow too," Lord Edward said, shrugging off his hauberk. "I intend to become expert at it, and

I've ordered that some of these six-foot bows be made for my

Gascons; I believe them superior weapons to their

crossbows."

Rod laughed. "They are only superior if they are shot by expert

longbowmen."

Both Griffin and Owen, Lord Edward's squire, agreed. "It

takes years of experience, my lord."

"Then we'd best get started," Edward said, grinning. "Get some hay bales set up as targets in yon field beyond the

mere, and I'l ask Simon to loan us a troop of his Welsh

archers to teach us how it's done."

"Edward, because it seldom happens to you, you forget that

men tire," Rod protested. "Our men have struggled through

freezing water for hours today. Cannot the archery lesson wait

until the morrow?" He removed his heavy hauberk and handed

it to Griffin.

Edward roared with laughter. "Soft, the lot of you!" He peeled off his wet linen shirt, and Rod fol owed suit. Suddenly a great

female cheer went up from the ramparts of Kenilworth, and the

two bare-chested

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males lifted their eyes to observe their admirers. "Wel , I'l be damned," Lord Edward said, "do you suppose I could have

my pick, Rod?"

"I have no doubt of that whatsoever, my lord." Rod frowned.

Where the devil was his beautiful ice maiden? Surely she

could have let her guard down long enough to come and

watch him traverse the cold mere, if only to rejoice in his

discomfort. What would it take to chip through her frozen

exterior? Her interior would be hot enough, if her temper was

any indication. Suddenly, in spite of his clinging wet chausses,

his cock began to swel and harden.

Edward glanced down with wry amusement at his friend's

erection. "Show-off! I'm shriveled to the size of a worm."

Rod chuckled. "A one-eyed snake perhaps, never a worm,

Edward."

A few hours later as Rod entered the hal , he was looking

forward to supping with Rosamond. He was starting to

suspect she enjoyed exchanging barbs with him, if only to

sharpen her claws. He held out hope al through the first

course, knowing she was quite capable of being late

purposely, just to keep him waiting. When Alyce de Clare

noticed his inattention to her, she began to pout prettily and

thought up ways to plague him. Alyce usual y amused Rod, but

tonight she simply annoyed him.

When the meal was over and the tables were being cleared,

Rod sought out Lady Eleanor and her daughter Demoisel e.

"The fair Rosamond is avoiding me, I fear. Could you not

persuade her to dine in the hal tonight, ladies?"

Eleanor gave him a sideways glance. "Ah, that would prove

rather difficult, I'm afraid, Sir Rodger. Rosamond wil be dining

at Pershore tonight."

"Mother! She didn't want anyone to know," Demi protested.

"Nonsense. A lady runs for the sheer pleasure of being

pursued ... at least I always did."

Rod thanked Lady Eleanor. She was more than hinting; she

was giving her tacit approval for him to join her ward at

Pershore and look over the property that would soon be his. It

would also give them a chance to be alone together. He could

not leave tonight, because he knew Edward needed him to be

there until long past midnight, but come dawn, Rod knew

nothing would hold him at Kenilworth.

Sir Rodger told Griffin to be ready to ride at first light, then

retired

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to his chamber to pack. When Edward arrived in the Warwick

Tower, Rod explained his plan.

"Ha, the fiery wench has decided to lead you a merry chase.

This is somewhat of a departure from your usual easy

conquests, my friend. Perhaps you've met your match!"

"I think perhaps it is Rosamond who has met her match, my