“He did not. He only said he saw him towards the end. He did not say that he saw him leave the battlefield alive.”
John’s words struck her just as her small hand had struck his cheek. He had only said that because he was disturbed, too, about Luke, the conflict, about everything. All Alixandreaseemed concerned with was Matthew and not the overall implications of the battle. But as soon as he said it, he was sorry.
“I am sure he is well,” he said quietly. “Matthew is stronger than you know.”
Her face was pale, her lovely features twisted in thought and dread. “When did you say this battle took place?”
“Around the twenty-second of August.”
“Then if that is true, Matthew has had almost three weeks to come home. Leicester is less than fifty miles away. It would not take him three weeks to travel fifty miles.” Her features suddenly tightened with fear. “John, where is he? If he survived,where is he?”
She was starting to become hysterical again. John grasped her hands tightly. “I do not know, Alix. Perhaps he has gone to London with the new king.”
“You must go and find him,” she insisted. “You must find him and you must also bring Luke home to be buried next to his mother. Johnny, you must.”
John’s mind was muddled. He needed to get away from the weeping women and think clearly. But as he tried to pull away again, Caroline came at him.
“And if Mark is also alive, why has he not come home?” she asked. “You must find out where they are, John. You could be the only Wellesbourne left.”
The only Wellesbourne left. Alixandrea could not hear anymore. She turned away from them both and went back to her camellia bush. Picking up her pruning knife, she resumed her steady cutting. The battle was over and Matthew was not home. If he was alive, surely he would have sent word. But word had only come from Lovell. The more she cut at the bush, the more brittle her mind became.
*
It was sundownand Alixandrea was still in the garden, still tending the shrubs. She had not come inside all day. When Caroline had tried to force her, she had actually shoved the woman away. Nothing anyone could do or say could convince her to leave the garden and come inside.
The old garden of Audrey Wellesbourne had become a sanctuary, a therapeutic environment in which to exorcise her demons. Right now, that demon was Matthew’s whereabouts. She could focus on nothing else. She had very nearly convinced herself that he had died on the field at Bosworth and now lay buried in a common grave with his brother. Thinking of her strong, wise, sweet husband in a pauper’s grave nearly destroyed her. He did not belong there. If John could not find him, she would not rest until she did.
As the sun set, she began working the ground with her hands. A servant had brought more horse manure and she used her fingers to work it into the soil that surrounded some dormant bulbs. It was smelly, dirty work, but she did not care. She dug until her fingers bled and still, she dug. At some point, the tears came. She wept deeply as she continued to till the soil, her tears mingling with Wellesbourne earth. This was the place that had bred her husband. It was odd that she felt close to him here, her hands in the dirt of the fortress that he loved.
To her right against the garden wall sat the grave of Audrey Wellesbourne. Though the woman should have rightfully been buried in the chapel, Adam had chosen to bury her in the garden she had loved so well. Tears blurring her vision, Alixandrea looked over to the grave with the carved stone marker. If she could not find Matthew’s body, it was the closest thing she would ever have to his grave, the woman who had given birth to him. On her hands and knees she crawled to the plot and lay atop it.
The sun went down as she lay against the cold earth and cried. She did not care that Caroline was standing near thegarden gate, weeping softly at the sight. She’d come to bring Alixandrea some warm broth but stopped when she saw what had happened. She did not know what to do, or how she could give the woman comfort in a time like this. Alixandrea was distraught and surely no one could bring her comfort but the appearance of Matthew himself.
Somewhere in the dark, a sentry shouted from the wall. Caroline heard the commotion but was too consumed with Alixandrea’s grief to care. The gates rolled open on their great chains and the activity of the soldiers picked up somewhat. Because Caroline was tucked back behind the keep and away from the gates, she had no idea that the Wellesbourne army was finally returning. It was the moment they had all waited for with great anticipation and, sadly, no one was aware of it. Caroline had no idea her husband had come home until she saw him some time later, standing at the gate that led into the kitchen yards.
Mark looked worn and beaten, but he was alive. Caroline caught sight of him, thought she was seeing a ghost, and dropped the broth in her hand. Mark smiled weakly and walked to his wife, standing before her and gazing into her eyes for a long moment. Caroline stared back at him, words stuck in her throat. She wanted to throw her arms around him but dare not do so. He was not the embracing type.
“Welcome home, husband,” she said. “I am pleased to see that you are well.”
Mark’s response was to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. Shocked, Caroline put her hand to her cheek where he had kissed her. Mark chuckled softly, wearily. “It is good to see you, also.”
Dazed, Caroline struggled to retain her senses. “Did… did you just arrive? I am sorry that I did not greet.…”
He shook his head to quiet her. “I am glad to find you here.”
Caroline suddenly remembered her sister-in-law, curled up on the ground. Her heart leapt. “Is Matthew with you?”
“No,” Mark said shortly. “And I caught Johnny just down the road. He has returned with me.”
“But he has gone to find Matthew and Luke.”
“No need. I know where they both are. I have brought Luke home with me for burial.”
“Thank God. And Matthew?”
Mark avoided answering her. “Where is Alixandrea?”
Caroline could only point to the garden. Mark’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and he could see a figure lying on the ground amongst the carefully clipped bushes. Puzzled, and deeply concerned, he went to her.
