Chapter 7

Warwick lifted Jory into the saddle, then mounted Caesar. "Come on, let's go for a wild gallop."

"I will have to ask Joanna to excuse me."

"Nonsense," Warwick said firmly. "You won't be in her service much longer. She knows what's in the wind, and if she doesn't, Gilbert will soon explain matters."

Her white palfrey took a couple of steps, sidling away from the huge black Caesar. Tiny silver bells attached to her harness tinkled prettily and Jory was delighted with the effect. "None would ever guess to look at you that you are an incurable romantic, Monsieur de Beauchamp."

"You are in grave danger if you reveal my secret, chéri."

The corners of her mouth went up. "Will you beat me to a jelly? I shudder at the thought. You'll have to catch me first." She touched her knees to the palfrey and it surged forward.

"I'll make you shudder," he vowed, plunging after her.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Brutus appeared and loped ahead of them as they rode through the flower-strewn meadows down to the river. They drew rein to view the foreign vessels that lay at anchor on the broad Thames.

"I wonder what cargoes they carry?" she mused.

"That one yonder is a Flemish merchantman. Likely it will carry fine English fleeces to Bruges and Antwerp in Flanders."

"We breed many sheep on de Warenne lands. Do you breed sheep?"

He nodded. "At Warwick we do. At Flamstead, I breed horses."

"Like this beauty." Jory stroked the palfrey's silky mane.

"She's a crossbreed. Her dam came from Middleton. The monks of the Abbey of Jervaulx breed pure white horses noted for their hardiness and strength. I brought her sire back from the Perche region of France. He was part Arabian. The result is a very showy female and a most fitting mount for you, my beauty."

"I love her, but didn't I tell you that Joanna rides a white horse and prefers that her ladies ride less showy animals?"

"And didn't I tell you that you will not be her lady-in-waiting much longer? You're about to become my Countess of Warwick."

"If you insist, my lord. Does she have a name?"

"None that I know of, chéri."

"Then I shall call her Zephyr."

"A light breeze from the west; a perfect name."

Brutus took off into the trees after a hare, and Guy took Jory's bridle and led her into the wooded copse. He dismounted, fastened Caesar to a young sapling, then lifted Jory from her saddle. They walked together along a path until they came to a pond where large yellow king cups and purple water hyacinths bloomed. The lovely buzz of insects and birdsong filled the air, making it a truly enchanted setting.

His visit to Flamstead had so convinced him that this marriage was right, he had stopped on the way back to tell his son of it. "Will you marry me, Jory?" His dark face was intense.

"Yes, Guy. I've quite made up my mind. I will marry you." Her heart was in her eyes.

He gave a whoop, snatched an insect from the air, and held his hand out to her, as he had done the day of the hunt.

She opened his fingers and laughed as a tiny iridescent dragonfly swooped up from his huge palm to reveal a small gold ring set with an emerald. "Guy, you are my magic man!"

She slipped the ring onto her finger and held up her hand so she could admire it.

He brought her fingers to his lips and gazed at her with adoration. "You enthrall me, Jory. I love the way you toss your hair over your shoulder and declare: I've quite made up my mind. You say the phrase often, and it has a finality about it that challenges any who would dare question your decision."

"Isn't being in love the most glorious feeling of all time? I want to sing and dance and carry on inordinately. I have the impulse to climb on the de Clare mansion roof and shout to the world that I am madly in love with Guy de Beauchamp!"

"A more calculating female would never tell a man she loved him. It would make her feel far too vulnerable."

"A secret," she whispered. "I've felt vulnerable all my life."

An urge to protect her rose up in him. She had a fragility about her that tugged at his heartstrings. The world was ofttimes cruel to its most sweet and gentle creatures and he silently vowed to shield her with all his strength and power. His arms swept about her and he pressed her to his heart.

They spent the entire afternoon together, riding, talking, laughing, and kissing away the hours. When they returned, Gilbert invited them to sup with him and Joanna, and Guy accepted. The newly wed Countess of Gloucester did not warm to Warwick, but held herself coolly aloof. As a consequence the two earls fell into a conversation about tomorrow's Parliament and the upcoming French wars that seemed inevitable. They also spoke of unrest in Wales, where both men had spent considerable time in the last decade, fighting battles, building castle fortresses, and patrolling the Welsh marches to enforce the peace.

Jory listened intently and it was brought home to her that all the nobles of the realm and their men-at-arms were at the beck and call of King Edward Plantagenet. If war was declared, these two earls, as well as her brother and her uncle, would be in the vanguard of the fighting.

"Whenever men get together, the talk of war is incessant. It is the one thing they love above all else," Joanna declared.

"Au contraire, my lady," Warwick replied. "We can imagine, in the privacy of our thoughts, that war is heroic and honorable—even noble. It is an illusion. But we force ourselves to believe the illusion, denying reality, denying death, regardless of evidence to the contrary. War is bloody, brutal; the enemy is vicious."

Gloucester nodded. "We invade France or Wales out of political ambition or revenge, then try to plant our seeds of law and government in some very harsh soil. Cultures can be changed, but it takes years, not months. Look at Wales—how many years?"

"Most of my life," Guy replied.

"And mine," Gilbert added reluctantly. "And there are rumblings of rebellion once again."

Guy saw that Jory had gone pale. "Do not let our talk of war alarm you, ladies. Gilbert and I would drone on all night if someone didn't stop us." He got to his feet. "I thank you for supper—the food and the company were excellent. Since we must attend Parliament tomorrow, I shall take my leave early."

De Clare rose to his feet. "I shall see you on your way."

Jory longed to bid Guy a private good night, but realized it would be improper for her host, the Earl of Gloucester, to allow it. He had already turned a blind eye to propriety by allowing the couple to spend the day together. "Kindly give my regards to my brother and my uncle tomorrow, my lord."

Warwick bowed gallantly, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. It was Jory's way of asking him to expedite their marriage plans. "It will be my pleasure, Lady Marjory."

The moment the men left the room, Joanna's knowing gaze swept over Jory. "You haven't given yourself to him yet, have you?"

Jory was startled at the intimate question. "I…that is—no."

"That's the only reason the Wolfhound is still sniffing round you. He's a notorious womanizer, Jory. Once he takes your virginity, you'll never see the lecherous swine again."

Jory raised her chin. "Guy has asked me to marry him."

Joanna's laugh was cruel. "I cannot believe your na?veté! That is what all men promise when they are intent upon bedding a reluctant female. It's Warwick for God's sake! You don't honestly believe the infamous earl will make the mistake of shackling himself to a third wife, do you?"

Jory's smile was serene. "He has already offered for me."

Joanna arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Are you sure? Or is that what the devious devil has told you?"

Jory's mind flew back to the last time she had spoken with Lynx, when she'd asked: Did the earl offer for me yet? The answer had been in the affirmative: We have received an offer for you, but we are still negotiating and cannot speak of it yet.

Jory answered her with quiet confidence. "My guardian is negotiating the terms. Lynx and the Earl of Surrey will summon me to Westminster Palace when an agreement has been finalized."

"Well, aren't you a sly minx to keep all this to yourself?" Joanna stood up and yawned as if the subject bored her. "I'm going up now. I shan't need you tonight."

Jory stared after her friend. Surely Joanna isn't jealous?

She retired to her bedchamber, and Eleanor de Leyburn, who was already abed when Jory opened the door, sat up immediately, bursting with curiosity. "Was that really the Earl of Warwick who visited you today?"

"Yes, that was Guy de Beauchamp."

"Aren't you afraid of him, Jory?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"No. He is very protective of me. I feel absolutely safe and secure when I am in Guy's company."

"You dare to call the Earl of Warwick by his first name?"

Jory smiled her secret smile. "I'm going to marry him." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I've quite made up my mind."

At Westminster, the nobles assembled for the first session of Parliament. Before King Edward arrived, the barons gathered in groups to discuss war and taxes, both of which seemed inevitable. Guy de Beauchamp approached Lynx and John de Warenne, who were conveniently in the same place at the same time today.

"Gentlemen, I ask that you see me in private. There is a personal matter of importance I would like to discuss."

"By all means, Warwick," the earl said affably. "Tonight, after the session, come to my chamber. Lynx?"

Lynx nodded his assent.

"Thank you, Surrey." Warwick greeted the constable and his sons and then nodded to the marshal. Bigod looked particularly irascible this morning, and Guy anticipated that the session would likely exacerbate tempers. The barons were intensely jealous of their rights, particularly when the king attempted to trample on their feudal privileges, and Warwick was no exception.

Within the hour Edward arrived, and with a minimum of pomp and ceremony the session began. John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, in his capacity of Constable of England took the floor.

"On behalf of the barons, I have been asked to make a formal objection to the forty-shilling tax on wool. Such an amount is a heavy imposition and we respectfully request it be rescinded."

Since Edward had called Parliament to get more money, not less, he refused the request. "Unfortunately, the Crown is in no position to rescind the wool tallage at this juncture. However, we pledge to address this tax at a future time when the defense of England and her territories has been accomplished."

"Your Majesty, we the barons are collectively determined to prevent the Crown from levying further taxes at will."

"I need money to fight the belligerent King of France!"

"We respectfully suggest you get it from the Church and the wealthy merchants."

The king made a dramatic appeal. "I am going to meet danger on England's behalf, and when I return, I will give you back all that has been taken from you."

Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk and Marshal of England, got to his feet. "You intend to lead the army into Flanders, Your Majesty?"

"I do indeed. And you shall lead an army to recover Gascony."

Bigod became truculent. "With you, Sire, I will gladly go. As belongs to me by my hereditary right, I will ride before you."

Edward saw Bigod's dour expression and his stiff back. He hung on to his temper and said in a silky tone, "But without me, you will of course go with the rest."

"Gascony is five hundred miles farther south. I am not bound to go," asserted Bigod. "And go, I will not!"

Edward Plantagenet's temper flared. He drew himself up to his full height and stared down at the squat figure of the marshal. "By God, Sir Earl!" he cried. "You shall go or hang!"

"By God, Sir King!" Bigod spat. "I shall neither go nor hang!"

Though King Edward was in a white-hot rage, he did not explode into violence. He was in no position to quarrel with his baronage now that a French war was looming and Welsh rebellion was threatening to flare up on the home frontiers. Edward also knew that calling Parliament to raise money broke the stipulations of the Great Charter. The king swallowed his bile and excused the hereditary marshal from his duty, on condition that Bigod appoint a temporary substitute.

Warwick leaned close to his friend Gloucester. "That was a close battle of wills."

"All told, the earls and barons here today have with them fifteen hundred men-at-arms."

"That would be open rebellion."

"Aye, and he's not sure you or I would come down on his side."

The king's next opponent was the Archbishop of Canterbury. Edward and Winchelsey had a bitter debate on what the clergy should pay toward the war.

"I go to fight for the people as well as the Church of England." He paused dramatically. "And if I do not return, crown my son as your king."

At his father's words, young Prince Edward broke into tears and his mood communicated itself to the archbishop, who immediately capitulated and raised his hands high to show his loyalty.

Warwick and Gloucester exchanged a glance of disgust that a prince of the realm would shame himself by weeping like a girl. The son was only a pale and pathetic shadow of his dominant sire.

During the recess, Roger Bigod approached his son-in-law, Lynx, and John de Warenne. After much back and forth over who would pay the lion's share of the costs, the Earl of Surrey agreed to lead an army into Gascony to secure it along with Guienne, from the avaricious Philip of France.

When the session resumed, Bigod announced that he wished to nominate John de Warenne as temporary substitute marshal, if it pleased the king. Edward Plantagenet was more than pleased and immediately appointed Surrey as head general of the army that would go to Gascony.

That evening when the first day's session of Parliament ended, a crowd had gathered outside Westminster Hall. Edward Plantagenet was shrewd enough to address the common people. With his son and heir on one side and Archbishop Winchelsey on the other, he made a speech aimed directly at their hearts. He told them how the French king was usurping territory that belonged to England and vowed to stop the fishermen of Normandy from stealing English livelihoods. The mass of people listened avidly, then cheered when their monarch ended his speech, showing their admiration for his bravery and pledging their complete loyalty.

After supper, Guy de Beauchamp made his way to the Westminster Palace chambers of John de Warenne. He was cynic enough to realize that ambition had prompted the Earl of Surrey to agree to take an army to Gascony, yet he thought more of him, rather than less, for that ambition. Warwick knew it would be expedient to get the matter of Lady Marjory settled without delay. After the two families formed a blood bond, he would not be averse to joining the de Warenne men when they went to fight in Gascony.

When Guy arrived, he was glad to see that Lynx was present.

"Come in, Warwick," the earl invited. "That was quite a session today. Thirsty work—pour us some ale, Lynx."

"Congratulations on your appointment, Surrey. Edward is lucky to get a general with your battle experience." Guy took a chair and half emptied the tankard of ale. "I have come to propose a match between Lady Marjory and myself. I would be deeply honored to make her the Countess of Warwick and have reason to believe the lady is not averse to becoming my wife."

"Lord Warwick, this is indeed a surprise," Surrey replied. "I had no idea you were contemplating marriage."

"I wasn't," Warwick said flatly, "until I met Lady Marjory." He made eye contact with Lynx de Warenne. "Your sister has won my devotion. She is a prize beyond compare."

"A much sought after prize," Lynx said.

"We are aware of the great honor you bestow with this offer," John said quickly. "A union between the de Warennes and the noble house of Warwick would be most advantageous and give us much to celebrate. Though we have other offers for Lady Marjory, naturally yours will take precedence. We will give you our highest consideration, and of course we will consult the lady herself regarding her choice of future husband."

Warwick allowed himself to smile for the first time. "That is all I ask." His heart lifted and he felt supremely happy. He knew he had made the right decision and vowed to cherish Jory. "Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to negotiating the terms."

After Guy de Beauchamp departed, Lynx said, "I had no idea you were such a skillful diplomat."

"I learned diplomacy in a hell of a hurry when I negotiated the terms of your marriage with Roger Bigod, the irascible earl!"

"My hat is off to you, John. Sylvia's father can be extremely truculent, as he was today with the king."

"I had the advantage. It was Bigod who wanted you for his daughter's husband—not the other way around."

Each morning when Jory awakened, she hoped that this would be the day that she would be summoned to Westminster Palace. After the third day of disappointment, she became apprehensive. Perhaps Warwick has changed his mind! Her fear of rejection made her feel extremely vulnerable. She twisted the ring on her finger, and when she glanced down at the sparkling emerald gem, it reassured her. No, no, Guy de Beauchamp loves me as much as I love him!

The Countess of Gloucester's seamstress brought the gown she was making for Jory. "This is the loveliest material I've ever sewn, Lady Marjory, but it is so sheer and delicate. I took the liberty of making you a taffeta underdress to help show off its beauty. Would you like gathered sleeves?"

Jory donned the lustrous taffeta, then tried on the new gown. "Oh, it's exquisite! You have done a superb job." She twirled before the mirror, thrilled that the pale green silk floated about her like gossamer. "I think I'd like trailing sleeves, please." I love it so much! This will be my wedding gown. She twirled about, then curtsied to her reflection. Marjory de Beauchamp, Countess of Warwick!

When morning turned into afternoon, Jory's doubts crept back. As she laid out the clothes that Joanna would wear to dinner that night, she sought to reassure herself. "Is Parliament still in session? It's been four days."

"Yes, they'll be at it for some time. Gilbert informs me that Father is pressing for money for the French wars, and extracting gold from the barons is like squeezing blood from stone."

"Will the Earl of Gloucester go to fight in France?"

"Nay, Jory. The king relies on Gloucester to safeguard Wales. Gilbert had me in stitches last night. Apparently Roger Bigod and the king almost came to blows. The Earl of Norfolk refused to take the army to Gascony and my father threatened to hang him."

Roger Bigod is Lynx's father-in-law! "Did the marshal finally agree to do the king's bidding?"

"Nay, the irascible old devil appointed your uncle, John de Warenne, to lead the army instead."

No wonder I haven't been summoned to Westminster. They have been completely occupied with preparing to fight a war in France!

John de Warenne and his nephew, Lynx, paid a late call on John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford. The Constable of England's son Humphrey was with him when they arrived.

"Come in, Surrey; de Warenne. I'm delighted to see you both. Since Humphrey is a party to this match, I warrant he can be present while we negotiate?"

"By all means." Both de Warennes took the chairs they were offered and accepted tankards of ale.

"We have come to advise you that we have received another offer for Lady Marjory. Without revealing his name, I feel it only fair to let you know that the noble is an Earl of the Realm."

De Bohun's brows drew together, and though Humphrey did not frown, the de Warennes saw that they had his undivided attention.

"Marriage with Humphrey will not make Lady Marjory a countess immediately," Hereford conceded, "so let me offer a substantial incentive. I will deed my castle of Midhurst, Sussex, to my heir upon his marriage to Lady Marjory, with the stipulation that it become the legal property of the firstborn child of the union, should my son predecease me, God forbid."

The de Warennes exchanged a guarded glance that was noncommittal and immediately John de Bohun added, "And of course it goes without saying that no dowry is necessary for a lady as highborn as Marjory de Warenne."

"That is most generous, Hereford." Lynx turned to Humphrey. "I warrant you are an excellent match for my sister. We will inform her of your offer and feel confident that Lady Marjory will happily assent to the union."

The Earl of Surrey softened his flinty demeanor. "A blood bond between the de Bohun and de Warenne families will be advantageous for us all, and for England."

As the pair returned to their own chambers in Westminster Palace, John said dryly, "Lady Marjory will assent to the union, happily or otherwise, only if she receives no other offers."

"Jory is as elusive as quicksilver and more willful than a dozen men-at-arms. If given the choice, she will unswervingly pick the infamous Earl of Warwick." Lynx let out a resigned breath. "I warrant you are right. The only way to keep her safe from making a rash decision is to keep silent about de Beauchamp's offer."