Chapter 11

When Jory awoke, she was alone. She slipped her robe over her stained night rail, removed the soiled bed sheets, and remade it with the clean linen Sylvia had provided. She ordered her bath, and as she lay in the fragrant water, she forced her thoughts away from last night and instead focused on what she would wear today.

Humphrey strode into the room and when he allowed the door to bang close, Jory knew he was agitated about something. He paced to the window and paid scant attention to the fact that his bride was sitting naked in her slipper bath.

"What is it, Humphrey? What has upset you?"

"Gloucester made a promise to his wife that they would remain at Hertford for a month, so de Clare has asked Father to take our men-at-arms to Wales in an effort to nip the uprising in the bud. Naturally, the constable agreed immediately."

Her husband was so upset he was cursing. She dried herself quickly, slipped on her robe, and closed the distance between them. She slid her arms around him, hoping she could assuage his anger. "If it means we must travel to Hereford immediately, don't worry about me, Humphrey. I will be ready."

He stroked her hair. "You are an angel—it's so unfair!" Suddenly he gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed; he fumbled with his chausses, then with feverish hands he opened her robe, lifted her nightgown, and lay between her legs.

Jory braced herself to accommodate his sexual needs. She felt him press into her, but he did not penetrate her as she expected. She held her breath as he muttered a frustrated curse and her hand came up to caress his sex. Humphrey was flaccid, his cock limp.

He rolled off her. "I can't…Marjory, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Humphrey." Jory was at a loss.

"I'm not afraid!" he asserted.

Afraid of what…afraid to make love? Suddenly, Jory understood. He's afraid of war! "Of course you're not afraid. You are thinking only of me. I was so looking forward to our spending time at your lovely Midhurst Castle and refurbishing it." She leaned over him and kissed him. "You are very gallant."

She went to the wardrobe and pretended that choosing a gown was important. Perhaps it is for what I have in mind. "What do you think—the red or the blue?"

"You look exquisite no matter what you wear, but the pale blue is very pretty, Marjory." He stood and straightened his garments.

She donned the delicate underdress and pulled on a short, midnight blue tunic, embroidered with silver moon and stars. She pulled on stockings and matching slippers, then brushed her hair and threaded a pale blue ribbon through her curls.

Downstairs, the first person they encountered was Henry. Humphrey's brother could not hide his excitement. "Did he tell you, Marjory? We're off to fight in Wales!"

"Of course he told me. We share everything."

Henry rolled his eyes. "More than once, by the time of day you finally manage to come down," he teased.

"Have you seen Lynx anywhere?" she asked.

"He's readying his men to leave tomorrow. He and Father are in the armory. Your brother gave me a chain mail chainse with flexible links. Wait till you see it, Hump. You'll die of envy."

"My godmother, Lady de Bruce, is leaving today. I must go and say my good-byes to her." Jory headed toward the solar, then made a detour outside to search out her own brother and de Bohun. She noticed that the wind had turned cold and was glad of the warmth from the braziers when she entered the armory. She paid no attention to the de Warenne men-at-arms who stared at her.

"You shouldn't be here, Minx, among all these rough men, especially in such a costly gown," Lynx admonished.

John de Bohun beamed at her. "You are such an ethereal beauty. They will think you the moon goddess descended from on high."

Lynx gave a mock groan. "Don't encourage her, Hereford. The she-devil will wrap you around her little finger."

She gave the earl a dazzling smile. "As if I could." Jory tucked her arm beneath her father-in-law's and sent Lynx a signal that she wished to be alone with de Bohun.

Brother and sister could communicate without words. "You two go ahead. I want a word with my sword smith." Lynx turned back.

"My lord earl, do you know what a honeymoon is?"

He laughed aloud. "It's so long since I had one, I've forgotten. What is a honeymoon, my dear?"

"It is a period of one month following a marriage, set aside so that the newlywed couple can establish harmony and share love."

He nodded. "Yes. It's a romantic idyll."

Jory sighed. "Mine is to be cut short because of war."

"My dear, we hope to stop the unrest before it grows into war."

"But still, if I could have a wish, it would be that Humphrey and I could go to Midhurst for our honeymoon month, and then we could hasten to Goodrich Castle in Hereford and Humphrey could then join you in Wales to help stop the insurgency."

"Well, my dear, I don't see any reason why you cannot have your wish. A bride as lovely as you should be indulged." He squeezed her hand. "Never let it be said I stood in the way of harmony and love. You shall have your romantic idyll, Lady Marjory."

"I thank you with all my heart, John." She used his first name deliberately to show that she thought of him as a man first, then a father-in-law. Jory knew she had manipulated the earl, but did not feel much guilt because she had done it on Humphrey's behalf.

She sought out her godmother and found Marjory Bruce packing her clothes. "May I ask you something personal? Was your first marriage arranged or was it a love match?"

"Arranged by King Alexander of Scotland. He wed me to the Earl of Carrick, who owned vast estates in England and Scotland."

"Did you grow to love him?" Jory asked anxiously.

Lady Bruce smiled sadly. "There was hardly time. I became a widow almost before I had a chance to become a real wife."

"Please tell me that your second marriage was a love match."

Marjory Bruce's smile turned radiant. "Yes indeed! Robert de Bruce was a wild young devil. I encountered him hunting on my estates and our attraction was immediate. Since he had no title, we knew the king would not give his consent to my marriage, for that would make Robert the new Earl of Carrick."

"You wed without the king's consent?"

"Robert kidnapped me and forced me to wed him. He swept me off my feet; I was ready to do aught he asked. He took me into hiding and when we emerged as man and wife, I told the king that I had instructed my men to abduct the Bruce. So, yes, my second marriage was definitely a love match." Lady Bruce bent close and lowered her voice. "Now that I am older and wiser I often suspect that the shrewd devil set a marriage trap for me to gain the earldom and the vast lands. Yet I don't regret a day of it."

"That's the most romantic story I've ever heard," Jory said with a sigh. "I shall miss you. Go with God, my lady."

Later that day, Gilbert de Clare and Joanna were supposed to depart for their castle at Hertford, but a courier brought a message from Windsor that the queen had been taken ill with a congestion of the chest. Since Eleanor's health had not been robust for some time, Gilbert persuaded his wife to return to Windsor until her mother recovered.

Joanna embraced Jory. "Why don't you manipulate Humphrey to stay at your castle of Midhurst for a month instead of rushing to the godforsaken Borders of Wales? Then we can travel together."

"I wouldn't dream of manipulating my husband."

Joanna's eyes sparkled. "You little hussy. You are one step ahead of me, as usual."

"Nay, I simply follow your lead," Jory assured her.

That night, when she and Humphrey retired to their bedchamber, he was elated. "Marjory, you won't believe it. Father says it wouldn't be right to deprive a bride of her honeymoon. We are to have a month at our castle of Midhurst before we go to Hereford."

"I am indeed fortunate to have wed into such a kind and thoughtful family. I am proud to be a de Bohun."

Humphrey had no trouble becoming aroused, yet as Jory tried to prolong the preliminaries, hoping to kindle her own desire, she almost ruined things. Her husband became so excited when they fondled each other that he barely had time to glove himself in her tight sheath before he spent. He groaned with frustration.

"It was almost over before I began. Next time you mustn't tease me, Marjory. I want to stay inside you longer."

When her husband slept, Jory lay staring into the darkness. She knew the feeling she was experiencing was akin to hunger.

The next day the de Bohuns and their men-at-arms departed, and two hours later the de Warennes were ready to leave for the coast, where ships would take them across the Channel.

Jory was determined that her farewell with her brother and uncle would not be a tearful one. Though she was terrified at their going to fight a war in France, she was resolved not to show her fear. She snuggled into her fur cloak. "Good-bye, Lynx. I hope Gascony will be warmer than England when you arrive."

Lynx enfolded her in his arms. "Take care of yourself, Minx."

She kissed John de Warenne's cheek. "I know the king chose the right man to win back his English possessions. I am confident the de Warennes will emerge victorious and win many honors."

During the next two days Jory directed the packing of her and Humphrey's personal things as well as the many wedding gifts they had received for their household of Midhurst. The master bedchamber was to be refurbished with the couple's new bed and bedcurtains and the walls hung with Jory's own tapestries.

Finally, the beautiful linens she had received from Sylvia were lovingly packed and sent downstairs to be loaded on the wagons. Jory descended the stairs and, for the last time, she looked about Hedingham, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened.

Don't be a coward, Jory. Face your future with courage!

She and Sylvia went outside to the courtyard, where Humphrey was waiting to help her into the saddle. A messenger bearing Gloucester livery rode up and handed Humphrey de Bohun a letter. "It's addressed to you, Marjory. It's from Joanna."

Jory smiled. "She's probably wishing us bon voyage." She opened it and scanned the note. Her smile faded and she raised sad, incredulous eyes to Humphrey. "Queen Eleanor is dead!"

The nobles who were still in England gathered at Windsor for Queen Eleanor's funeral. Humphrey escorted his bride to the Royal Castle, where Jory immediately sought out Princess Joanna.

"You must be in shock. How are you holding up?"

Joanna allowed Jory to take her hands. "I'm so glad you came. Gilbert has been like a rock for me. With Father away fighting in France, I didn't know what to do."

"Do you feel well? Is the baby all right?" Jory asked.

Joanna nodded. "My husband has made me rest each day. Mother's ladies-in-waiting have done all that needs to be done."

"We brought my sister-in-law with us. Sylvia is devastated. Lynx had already left for France when we received your letter. I don't know how she will cope without him."

"Her father arrived at Windsor this morning."

"I'm glad Sylvia will have her father's strong arm to support her. Your brother must be desolate over the death of his mother, especially with his father being absent."

Joanna's dark eyes glittered. "Edward's been drunk ever since he arrived. De Clare tore a strip off him last night for his inappropriate behavior, yet in truth the queen was not an overly devoted mother to any of her children. The king was her sun and her moon, the center of her universe."

"She was married to Edward for almost fifty years, since she was a child of ten. The queen's devotion is understandable."

Joanna bent close so that only Jory would hear her words. "And yet I am willing to wager that the King of England will not tear himself from his war with France long enough to bury her."

Jory was shocked at her friend's cynical words, yet she realized Joanna likely spoke the truth. "You and Prince Edward will represent His Majesty at Queen Eleanor's funeral tomorrow."

"With my sallow skin, I look haggard in black, while the mourning color will flatter you beyond reason."

Jory shuddered. She could not deny that black made her look ethereal. "I beg you go and lie down. Tomorrow will be a long, emotionally exhausting day. I'll go see how Sylvia is faring."

Sylvia de Warenne was ghastly pale and her eyes were red from weeping. She patted the hand of Alicia Bolton in an effort to console the distraught lady-in-waiting.

"There, there, my dear. It is difficult for all of us."

"Lady de Warenne, I nursed the queen night and day and followed the directions of her physician implicitly. When her cough worsened, I applied mustard clysters to ease her suffering."

"None could have served Queen Eleanor more devotedly than you, Alicia. Take consolation in knowing you did all that you could."

"Whatever will become of me, my lady?" Alicia moaned. "Lady Catherine Percy and the queen's other ladies-in-waiting have great families to return to. I was a ward of Eleanor's because I have no family. I know not what will become of me."

"Surely a young woman as attractive as you has marriage prospects, Alicia?"

"Alas, without dowry I stand little chance of marrying well. My only hope will be to find a position of lady-in-waiting in a noble household…like yours, Lady de Warenne."

"After serving Her Royal Majesty here at Windsor, surely it would be a step down to become one of my ladies?"

"It would be an honor to serve you and become part of the de Warenne household at Hedingham Castle. Someday you will be the noble Countess of Surrey."

"Then consider it settled, Alicia. We will help each other get through this tragic time."

"Thank you for your gracious generosity, Lady de Warenne." Alice Bolton, who had renamed herself Alicia, lowered her lashes lest Sylvia see the triumph in her calculating eyes.

A knock on the door prompted Alice to say, "Allow me to get that. If you're not up to seeing anyone, I'll make your excuses." Alice opened the door and was surprised to find the newly wed Marjory de Bohun on the threshold.

Jory stepped into the chamber and spoke to both women. "You have my heartfelt condolences. It is especially sad for you devoted ladies who were in the queen's service." She spoke to Alicia. "Please convey to the ladies-in-waiting that Princess Joanna is most grateful for all you have done for her mother."

Alicia dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and departed.

Jory hurried to Sylvia's side and slipped her arm about her. "I am so sorry that Lynx cannot be with you."

"Men are little comfort when it comes to sickness and death. I remember when my own mother fell ill, how distant and short-tempered my father became. Women must rely upon each other for succor and solace at times like these."

"It's such a shock. The queen seemed well at my wedding."

"Actually, she began to cough that day we sailed on the royal barge before Princess Joanna's wedding. We all assumed she would recover from such a minor ailment, but her contagion must have gradually worsened. Eleanor forbade any from telling King Edward that she was poorly for fear he would not leave for France."

"Little danger of that," Jory remarked.

"You are very cynical for a young lady of eighteen."

"I'm sorry, Sylvia." I'll soon be nineteen, but under the circumstances it will be inappropriate to celebrate a birthday.

"Poor Alicia Bolton is racked with worry over what will become of her. Since she will lose her position here at Windsor and has no family to speak of, I have asked her to become one of my ladies and will take her back to Hedingham."

Joanna dislikes Alice Bolton intensely, but I'd best keep my tongue between my teeth before I say something cynical again. "That is most kind of you, Sylvia. Is there anything you need before the funeral tomorrow?"

"Take this money to the chapel to pay for candles for Eleanor from the de Warenne family. Westminster Abbey will be ablaze with wax tapers tomorrow, but Windsor's chapel must have them also."

"That's a lovely idea, Sylvia. I also will give money from the de Bohun family and ask that the candles be scented. Then I shall check on Joanna to make sure she is resting today."

"I envy her the child she carries. She is obviously a woman who conceives easily, as her royal mother always did."

Jory bit her lip. "Your time will come, Sylvia. Don't despair."

When Jory returned to Joanna's royal apartment, she found Gilbert busy at the writing table. "I hope I find you well, my lord. I've just come from Windsor's chapel. It seems all the flowers in England are withered; none can be found for Eleanor."

"I've sent to the Isle of Wight for whatever flowers can be found. They won't arrive until the last minute, I fear. Joanna's resting, but I know she will benefit from talking with you."

"Thank you." Jory opened Joanna's bedchamber door and sat down on the end of her bed. "Your husband has sent for flowers all the way to the Isle of Wight. He is very thoughtful."

"Gloucester has arranged the entire funeral. He said the king would expect no less of him. He has taken care of everything." Joanna sat up. "Do you remember when I did the Tarot? I got the death card, but I never dreamed it portended my mother's death."

"I too drew the death card in my layout. I hope there won't be another, though 'tis an old superstition that death comes in three. I pray that none die in battle." Please, God, keep Lynx safe.

Joanna shuddered. "Pull the curtains back and let some light in here. The darkness makes me feel morbid."

Jory went to the tall windows and drew back the drapes. "Oh, it has started to snow. How pretty it makes everything look."

"Good, I shall be able to wear my new black and white ermine cloak tomorrow. Be a darling and ask Maud Clifford to unpack it for me. Gilbert had it made for me to keep me warm when we journey to Gloucester. I am glad we will be close to each other. Gloucester and Goodrich castles are only fifteen miles apart."

I hope we can spend a little time at our own Castle of Midhurst before we go. Humphrey dreads going to Goodrich because he fears fighting in Wales. Still, we must go sometime. "Get some rest. Our rooms are in the Lower Ward; send word if you need me, Joanna."

Jory pulled up the hood of her cloak as she stepped out into the snow. She walked quickly from the Upper Ward, and as she entered the Middle Ward, she heard loud laughter and shouting as if pandemonium reigned. A gang of unruly youths was having a snowball fight, and when Jory peered through the veil of snowflakes she was shocked to see that Prince Edward was the ringleader. What an unseemly display when his mother has just died. Edward is no longer a child. He should know better!

Jory felt disgust rise up in her. He had six youthful attendants with him, all sons of noble families. Only one stood aloof, not joining in the roughhouse play. He was extremely dark, with a proud look about him, and suddenly Jory guessed who the youth must be. I warrant that is Guy de Beauchamp's son, Rickard!

Jory stood staring for long minutes. Then she skirted the Round Tower, keeping as far away from the elegantly garbed louts as she could. A commanding roar split the air. The youths stopped dead as if turned to stone. Jory gasped as she saw Warwick stride across the Middle Ward. She pulled her hood close and stepped beneath the sheltered portico of the Norman Gateway so that he would not see her. Her heart pounded in her ears.

She watched wide-eyed as, without preamble, Warwick closed the distance between himself and young Edward Plantagenet. He raised a powerful arm and smote the Royal Prince across the head. Warwick paid no heed when the youth fell to his knees from the blow. The earl then strode up to his own son and dealt out an identical punishment. Jory doubted any other noble would have dared to lay hands on the king's son. That's why he's infamous!

She stayed where she was until the Middle Ward emptied; then, on shaky legs, she made her way to the Lower Ward, where the de Bohun couple had been given accommodation.