The Marriage Priza Read online

  As the two men talked, Edward realized the wisdom of Simon's words and he became more aware of the gravity and responsibilities of the inheritance he would come into. Simon believed that the king had a duty to his subjects as well as vice versa, and explained in detail how he felt. Though he knew the prince loved his father dearly, he hoped he was not blind to his deficiencies as a king.

  Simon de Montfort discussed the Provisions of Oxford, which the barons had forced King Henry to sign, and pointed out that they were not drastic but reasonable, designed to provide a system of fair government that would benefit noble and commoner alike and make England stronger and far more prosperous.

  Edward and Simon argued different points, but their discourse was affable and they found themselves in accord on many political and military matters. They were joined by Richard de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, who was the leading peer in England. His name appeared first on the Provisions of Oxford, though it was clear that Simon de Montfort was the driving force behind the barons' cause.

  When it was time for the evening meal, Eleanor de Montfort quickly rearranged the seating on the dais at Lord Edward's request, so that he was flanked by her husband and Richard of Gloucester. Soon, the trio were engrossed in conversation, oblivious to those about them. Simon and Gloucester were arguing a political point. Richard thought

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  the advantages gained by the Provisions of Oxford should apply only to the nobility, while de Montfort insisted even the common men who were dependent on the barons should benefit and have a voice in Parliament. Lord Edward listened to their different opinions intently.

  Lady Eleanor wore a gown of deepest blue, with her famous sapphires clasped about her throat. She had sent Bette, her own tiring-woman, to the Demoiselle's chamber with instructions that tonight her daughter was to wear pristine white.

  "Bette, it makes me look too young," Demi protested. "I want to wear red. Alyce de Clare will be sure to wear something dramatic to make herself the center of attention!"

  "Take your mother's advice, she is very clever," Rosamond urged. "White will make you look virginal, something Alyce de Clare should be, but obviously is not."

  "Rosamond is right, my lamb," Bette coaxed. "Let me thread some pearls into your pretty hair."

  The Demoiselle capitulated and sat before the mirror as Bette took up the hairbrush. "What will you wear, Rosamond?"

  "Something drab and colorless," her friend declared. "I don't want to draw the unwanted attention of you-know-who, and I will come to the hall late, after everyone is seated."

  Thirty minutes later, Rosamond stood before the polished silver mirror while Nan fastened the back of the dun-colored tunic. "Perfect," she declared as she covered her hair with a cloth.

  "Perfectly hideous!" Nan contradicted. She knew Rosamond's beautiful clothes lent her confidence, something the young woman did not always feel, though she hid it well. "You have just enough time to change; I'll get the vivid jade green gown that makes your hair look glorious."

  "No thank you, Nan," she said stubbornly, "please go down to eat, or all the seats will be taken." After her woman left, Rosamond tarried another quarter hour, then made her unhurried way down to the Great Hall. Her mind was busy thinking of ways she could avoid sitting on the dais if a place had been saved for her. If Lord Edward insists, I suppose I have no choice, but at least I will have kept them waiting, and this ugly, drab

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  tunic will show Rodger de Leyburn I have no interest in attracting his attention or pleasing him!

  Rosamond had never seen the hall as crowded as it was tonight. All the tables and benches were filled from one end to the other. As she looked about for an empty place, the servitors rushed past her with food-laden trays, as if she were invisible. No squire or page stepped forward to aid her. Rosamond's gaze was drawn to the raised dais, where she had dined last night. It was brilliantly lit, with torches and wax candles showing off the splendid garments and jewels of Kenilworth's guests of honor.

  Lord Edward had certainly not saved her a seat. He was so engrossed in his conversation with Earl Simon and Richard de Clare, he wasn't even aware of Rosamond Marshal's existence at this moment. Lady Eleanor sat regally beside her husband, her throat ablaze with sapphires. At her side the Demoiselle looked like a fairy-tale princess, and redheaded Gilbert de Clare sat staring at her with worshipful eyes.

  Rosamond's gaze moved down the table and came to rest on her cousin Harry of Almaine. Not even Harry had saved her a place. Curse the rogue! There he sat, stuffing his face, swilling his wine, and laughing like a lunatic at something the lady beside him said. Suddenly Rosamond's eyes widened in disbelief. It was no lady at all, it was Alyce de Clare. And the attentive dinner partner on her other side was Sir Rodger de Leyburn! Alyce was flirting openly with the dark devil beside her, smiling up into his eyes, slapping him playfully, then lifting her hand to whisper something intimate.

  Harry's words came flooding back to her: He can have any woman he desires; he doesn't have to settle for you, Rosamond. Splendor of God, the woman was sitting in her seat, flirting with her betrothed, and to add insult to injury, the bitch was wearing a vivid green gown! Rosamond looked down at her own dun tunic in dismay and slowly backed out of the hall. Never had she felt so unattractive, never had she felt so insignificant, never had she felt so utterly sorry for herself! No one seemed to be missing her at all!

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  Three

  Alyce de Clare had smooth, jet black hair that fell to her shoulders. In contrast, her skin was pale as parchment and her dark eyes were made to look even darker by the artful application of kohl, imported at great expense from Egypt. She had mastered the art of flirtation and behaved in a provocative manner to all men save her husband.

  Alyce was now a sensual and sophisticated woman of twenty-one, but even at sixteen, when she had first come from Angouleme, she had been able to wrap her uncle, King Henry, about her finger and easily manipulate him. In a magnanimous gesture, the king had married her into the wealthy de Clare family. Wisely, Alyce had made no protest that Gilbert the Red was only ten years old, for one day he would inherit the powerful earldom of Gloucester. Gilbert's father, Richard de Clare, the Earl of Gloucester, had been flattered at the alliance with the royal family, but the marriage had raised many eyebrows and the barons had been angry that another foreign favorite had been allowed to dip her fingers into English coffers.

  At this moment, Alyce dipped her finger into a wine goblet, then sucked it provocatively. "Mmm, delicious."

  Rodger de Leyburn lifted a dark brow. "You do know that's my wine, Alyce?"

  "Of course I know. Where's the pleasure in dipping my finger into my own... chalice?"

  "You are a born tease, and greedy too," Rod murmured.

  "And I am impatient!" She stuck out the tip of her tongue.

  He eyed her with amused tolerance. "Keep that in your mouth."

  "Oooh, I bet you say that to every female you bed!"

  "I don't need to persuade them." He grinned.-

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  "Rod, Rod ... there is something about your name I adore. It is so very wicked and suggestive."

  "You are the one who is being wicked and suggestive, Alyce."

  "Yes, we 'ave so much in common."

  "We do, chérie." He raised his goblet and winked at her over its rim. "You must behave yourself for just a little while longer."

  She gestured for Sir Rodger's squire, Griffin, to clear the table, then tapped long nails in an impatient staccato. "Anticipation is said to harden the pleasure, no?"

  "Heighten the pleasure," Rod corrected, "though there is likely more truth in the way you say it."

  Alyce dragged her attention from Rodger's handsome face to eye Harry. She slapped his wrist and hissed, "Stop eating, or we'll never be able to leave."

  Rod winked at him. "Some of us have other appetites to slake."

  ******************

  Rosamond had no appetite at all, so it mattered
little that she would get no dinner tonight. She snatched off the ugly head-cloth and paced her chamber, venting the anger she felt toward those who had ruined her tranquility. Her mind was filled with the picture of Alyce de Clare up on the dais, with her beautiful black hair, her exquisite clothes, and her potent allure. Rosamond spoke to the empty room. "Why does she have to be so bloody attractive? And why did she have to come to Kenilworth?" Rosamond answered her own questions. "Because all the men are here, and it is disgustingly obvious that Alyce loves men!" Well, she could have them. Rosamond had been content enough at Kenilworth until Lord Edward and his lecherous steward had arrived to swagger about, remind her of her betrothal, and destroy her peace of mind.

  The image of Rodger de Leyburn rose up, darkly compelling and undeniably attractive, and suddenly it was crystal clear why the maddening Alyce de Clare had come rushing to Kenilworth. "Oh my God," she whispered, "the green-eyed devil is dallying with a married woman while he is pledged to me!"

  Slowly, Rosamond realized that here was her opportunity to rid herself of the odious de Leyburn. She would go to him and ask him

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  straight out to release her. Under the circumstances, he could hardly refuse, especially if she caught him and Alyce together!

  Rosamond wasn't even sure which chambers had been assigned to Lord Edward and his companions, but unquestionably they would be staying in one of Kenilworth's five great towers. The impregnable Caesar Tower was the private domain of Eleanor and Simon, while the chamber she shared with Demi was in the Lady Tower. Most likely the young nobles had been accommodated in the Warwick Tower, which was larger than the others and close to the bathhouse.

  Rosamond opened the wardrobe to find a cloak with a hood that would cover her pale hair. The passageways of the castle late at night were dim, some even unlit, but she didn't want to be recognized prowling about the knights' quarters, and her golden hair would identify her immediately.

  Rosamond slipped on a dark purple cloak and took great pains to tuck every last strand of her long hair inside the hood. When she opened the chamber door, she could hear music from the Great Hall and knew she would have time to climb to the castle ramparts before the evening's entertainment ended. By avoiding the gatehouse that looked out over the causeway, and by keeping to the shadows, Rosamond evaded the soldiers on night patrol. When she came to the Warwick Tower, she stationed herself on the parapet, where she could keep watch through an arrow slit. Then she wrapped her cloak tightly about her and leaned against a stone merlon to wait.

  It was a long time before Lord Edward climbed the tower stairs, but within a few minutes, she watched the rest of his gentlemen arrive, including Rodger de Leyburn. She noted that he occupied the chamber next to Edward's, and schooled herself to patience while their own squires and a few of Kenilworth's servants took care of the young nobles' needs. When the tower fell silent, Rosamond began to doubt her vigil would bear fruit. Surely no lady would venture forth to this all-male bastion at this ungodly hour? Rosamond gauged that it was close to midnight, and she certainly had never before been abroad so late.

  Then she saw her. The lady was cloaked, but hadn't bothered to cover her hair, so there was no mistaking Alyce de Clare. Rosamond

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  heard her rap twice on Rodger de Leyburn's door. It swung open immediately and the black-haired vixen disappeared inside.

  ******************

  Rod smiled down at the slim beauty and removed her cloak. "Alyce, I thought you had changed your mind."

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "You know me better than that, darling. In fact, I warrant you know everything about me. I am more eager tonight than I was five years ago."

  Rod grinned. "Anticipation hardens the pleasure." He snuffed the candles, and heard the tempting rustle of her garments in the darkness. As he moved toward the bed, his memory winged back to that unforgettable night five long years ago.

  The wedding of Alyce of Angouleme and Gilbert de Clare was solemnized at Westminster Palace, where the bride's father lived in luxury. The marriage of the king's niece was a glittering occasion, with celebrations lasting for an entire week, all at the expense of Henry, who was eager to impress and earn the admiration of his half-brothers from the Continent.

  The dark-eyed bride received the name of de Clare, the noblest in the land, which brought her untold riches and wealth, not only in money, but in land and castles. Gilbert, the ten-year-old bridegroom, received only a hunting dog as his reward. Yet Rod clearly remembered thinking that they had both been shortchanged. All week, Alyce had flirted outrageously with him. She was sixteen and overripe for her first sexual encounter. It was obvious that she could not be expected to wait for Gilbert to grow up and satisfy her, so Rod took it upon himself to solve her dilemma and, at the same time, reap his own reward.

  He fondly recalled the details of that first encounter. Alyce wore a cream-colored gown of rich lace. They fed each other wine and sweetmeats and wedding cake, laughing together as the guests became more and more intoxicated. When Alyce could no longer keep her hands off him, he pulled her to her feet and led her through the labyrinth of Westminster until they reached his bedchamber.

  Rod could still remember unfastening the lace gown—exactly twenty-four buttons—then opening the adjoining door to fifteen-year-old Prince Edward's suite of rooms. "My lord, here is a bride who has

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  been sorely neglected. She is desperately in need of royal succor. As a prince and a gentleman, I know you will not ignore her plight." Rod kissed her hand with gallantry. "Alyce, I promise you a knight you will never forget."

  Now, as he lay on the bed with his arms folded behind his head, Rod smiled into the darkness with satisfaction. The day after the two half-cousins had spent the night together, Lord Edward had appointed Rod steward of his royal household.

  ******************

  Rosamond waited outside the door, giving the couple inside enough time to compromise themselves. She would not knock; there was nothing polite about her intent. She would simply throw open the door and surprise them in each other's arms. She gathered her courage for what she was about to do and took a deep breath. Her fingers closed about the iron ring, and she firmly turned it until the bar lifted. To her complete chagrin, the heavy oak door swung open to reveal nothing but total darkness and complete silence.

  She let out her breath and took a tentative step inside the chamber. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw light coming from beneath another door across the room. Realizing the couple were in the adjoining chamber, she moved silently across the floor, then paused to listen. Rosamond heard a woman's sensual laugh, and there was no mistaking to whom it belonged.

  Without warning, she felt a powerful hand cover her mouth. Rosamond almost came out of her skin and would certainly have screamed if the hand had not prevented her. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered with fright.

  "Do not open it, Rosamond."

  The fierce whisper was so low, she wondered if she had imagined it, until she felt his mouth touching her ear. She knew who it was immediately, and struggled to remove his hand. Then his arm came around her like a steel band to hold her motionless.

  "Hush!"

  It was a command she could not disobey, and as she stilled, Rosamond heard a rustle and a laugh that told her Alyce was directly on the other side of the closed door.

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  "Edward, you really do have the longest shank in the realm!"

  "Shank? It is a royal scepter, my little wanton."

  "It is a formidable weapon; sheath it before I faint."

  "I’ll make you faint, by God" he growled fiercely, thrusting himself inside her.

  Rosamond heard Alyce cry out, then she heard a steady, rhythmic thumping against the door. It seemed to go on forever, accompanied by the couple's moans and gasps. "Oooh I love to be taken against the door, it shows your towering impatience for me."

  Even in the darkness, Rosamond knew she was
blushing. She felt the warmth from her cheeks spread to the tips of her breasts. She had always been sheltered from carnal knowledge, but the pair's amorous coupling against the door was so graphic, it left little to the imagination. Rosamond felt hot threads spiral inside her belly, and she became acutely aware of her undergarments brushing against her skin, arousing sensations that were new and strange.

  "Now, now, oh please, Edward, now!"

  "You beg so prettily, Alyce, how can I resist? "

  The thumping came faster and louder until a half-scream began and was quickly muffled. A long silence was followed by a heartfelt sigh. "Your mouth ravages me like no other—carry me to bed." The laughter of the playful couple gradually faded as they moved away from the door, until all was quiet. Rosamond could hear her own pulse beating against her eardrums. She closed her eyes and felt the blood drain from her face. She had just heard Alyce de Clare commit adultery with Prince Edward.

  Rodger de Leyburn removed his hand from Rosamond's mouth and led her silently to the far side of his chamber. He lit a torch in the wall bracket, then pushed back her hood until her golden hair spilled about her. One glance at her pale face and trembling lips told its own story. Without a word, he poured her some wine and lifted it to her lips.

  "How did you know it was me?" she whispered.

  "Your fragrance is unique. Drink," he ordered softly, pushing her down into a chair.

  She obeyed him and felt a blood-red rose bloom in her breast.

  "Rosamond, you are privy to a secret that none save you and I knows about."

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  "I... I thought she was with you."

  "That is the whole idea. Everyone has thought that for five years. All are willing to look the other way at a little dalliance. It is another matter entirely for Lord Edward to be bedding the wife of Gilbert de Clare. You must not breathe a word of this dangerous secret to anyone."