Chapter 11

"I must rid myself of this ominous foreboding."

Wolf Mortimer spoke his thoughts aloud to Shadow, who stood beside him on the bank of the Thames, not far from where the Marchers were camped. His clothes felt constricting, so he removed them, knowing his spirit could commune more freely without the impediment of his garments. He shook his head to banish the gloom, hoping the dark clouds that had gathered in the evening sky were coloring his mood.

Grateful that Welsh mountain streams had inured him to the cold, Wolf dove into the river and cut through the water with powerful, clean strokes. The Thames, however, did not cleanse away the feeling of menace; it clung like a cobweb he could neither wash away nor ignore.

Wolf climbed from the water and shook himself. He was reluctant to voice his premonition to his father, lest it become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was full dark now and he stared with unseeing eyes into the blackness. He willed himself to relax, giving up control so that his unconscious mind could leave the present and penetrate the future.

He saw Edmund's wife, Elizabeth, and knew that though she was confined, she would survive. Her father, however, wore a noose—a portent of certain death. He conjured a picture of the king, but it was the degenerate male at Edward's side who wore the crown. For the Mortimers he sensed sinister threats from both east and west, and betrayal from the north. He saw his father in the jaws of a closing trap, and knew snares lay in every direction. Death awaited three Marcher barons, but before he learned which, he felt something brush against his leg. His hand reached down and touched Shadow and he was jolted back into the present. He dug his fingers into his animal's thick silver fur and knew that her life too was threatened unless she found a safe haven.

Wolf heard the distant but ominous rumble of thunder in the west, coming from the direction of the Welsh Borders. Jagged lightning flashed in the east, a sure warning that the danger from London was closer and more deadly. He dressed quickly, knowing he could remain silent no longer.

Don't rush off, it may arouse suspicion. Brianna schooled herself to patience and did not leave Windsor's Great Hall until Isabelle and her other ladies departed.

As Brianna hurried to her chamber, her mind darted about like quicksilver. She knew she must warn Roger Mortimer of the king's intent and had formed a plan while she had been dancing.

Brianna lit the candles and, as she dipped a quill into the inkwell, she warned herself against using Roger Mortimer's name.

My Dearest Lord:

I beg you take heed of my warning!

The army will not be disbanded but will be used to bring the Marcher barons to heel. He seeks revenge and retaliation and I fear he will show no mercy.

Brianna folded the unsigned letter and melted wax to seal it. She put on her dark green velvet cloak, pulled the hood up to conceal her bright hair, and slipped from her chamber. She took the outside steps that led down into the Upper Ward and, moving slowly, avoiding the pools of light from the outside torches, made her way to the castle's Lower Ward. By the Norman gate were the lodgings of the guards and grooms and she hesitated for a moment, wanting to be sure she chose the right room before she knocked. A sudden flash of lightning revealed the Warwick bear and staff device on a door and her knees felt weak with relief.

Simon Deveril opened to her knock and Brianna quickly slipped inside. "It's me…Don't light the candles."

"Lady Brianna, what's amiss?" He knew she would never venture outside at midnight without great provocation.

"Simon, I just learned of a vile plot against the Mortimers. The king intends to use the forces he has gathered to take revenge on the Marcher barons. They are close by at Reading. Will you deliver this letter of warning into Roger Mortimer's hands?"

"Are you sure of this, my lady?"

"The king's own brother, Thomas of Norfolk, confided it to me. There is no time to lose—they must flee!"

"I'll go now." He took the letter.

"I didn't sign it, so be sure to tell him it comes from Warwick's daughter, Brianna."

"He will recognize me as Warwick's man."

"Simon, I thank you with all my heart. Perhaps you can keep ahead of the storm."

"The storm's over London. It will likely move out to sea. There's no need to thank me. Mortimer is a kinsman of Warwick."

Brianna returned to her chamber and readied herself for bed. Before climbing beneath the covers, she sank to her knees and said her prayers. She asked that Simon Deveril be guided to the right place and that Roger Mortimer would heed her warning. She prayed that the divine spirit would protect all. She gave thanks that Deveril was willing to risk danger to do her bidding, and then she thanked God that her father cared enough to provide her with a Warwick man whose devoted service she could rely upon.

Brianna lay in bed with her eyes wide open, too tense to sleep. In spirit she was with Simon on every mile of his journey. She tried to calculate how long it would take him to get to Reading, then wondered how much time would elapse before he located Roger Mortimer. She began to worry that Simon might not find Roger at all, but quickly banished her pessimistic thoughts.

When will Simon get back to Windsor? If all goes well, he should certainly be back by morning , she assured herself. Brianna tossed and turned for hours in a vain attempt to sleep. Finally, she imagined she saw the first faint light of dawn creep into her chamber, and all thoughts of sleep fled.

She threw back the covers impatiently and got out of bed. She poured cold water from the jug, washed, cleaned her teeth, and began to dress. To save time she put on the same clothes she had worn yesterday. She gave her tangled hair a cursory brushing, slipped on her cloak, and pulled its hood over her disheveled curls. I'll go down to the stables and wait for him.

When she got outside she realized the sky only hinted at dawn, and Brianna guessed that it was somewhere between the hours of four and five. The stables at Windsor were vast, designed to hold over a hundred horses, and since the castle was at present occupied by many nobles and their families, she knew every stall would be filled. She was thankful that none of Windsor's servants or grooms would be up and about yet.

When Brianna went inside, she breathed in the miasma of horses, hay, and manure. It was a smell she had known all her life and it was somehow comforting. She was surprised and also vastly relieved to see that Simon had returned. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward him, anxiety written all over her face. "Did you find him?" she asked breathlessly.

"I did, m'lady." Deveril jerked his thumb in the direction of the box stalls at the back of the stables. "You have a visitor."

Her brows drew together in perplexity. Who could it be? Her heart began to hammer. She was reminded of her early morning meetings at the stable with Lincoln Robert and fancied he had come to visit her.

She lifted the latch on the wooden door of the first box stall and stepped in. The lamp was unlit and it was dim inside, but Brianna needed no light to identify her black-clad visitor.

Wolf Mortimer and Shadow stood motionless at the back of the stall. Brianna was so shocked that she was speechless.

"Hello, English." His greeting was irreverent, as always.

"You should be gone—the danger is real!" Brianna said angrily.

"I know," he said gently. "My future is uncertain, my road fraught with danger. I seek a haven for Shadow."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You are asking me to find a safe haven for your wolf?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "I have no other."

Brianna's vision had adjusted to the dimness and she saw his stark features clearly. This man with his towering pride would only compromise it for love of this animal. It is costing him dearly to ask a favor of me. "You honor me."

"I do, Brianna de Beauchamp." He knelt and fixed a lead to his wolf's collar.

Her mind quickly searched for an answer to the dilemma. "I will take her to my mother's castle of Chertsey, close by in Surrey."

"I thank you." He put the lead in her hand.

Brianna suddenly realized how much courage it took for him to part from his beloved wolf. He moved toward the stall door.

"Wait!" She removed the Celtic touchstone from around her neck and handed it to him. "Keep Shadow's likeness close to your heart."

He took it from her and slipped the thong over his head. "I thank you." Again he turned to leave.

"Wait! There's something else I must give you." She knew it was impulsive, even reckless, but something compelled her. She feared they might never meet again and did not want them to part while she owed him a debt. She closed the distance between them, stood on tiptoe, and lifted her mouth to his. She gave him the kiss willingly, generously, allowing her animal instinct to guide her. Her hood fell back and she felt the power of his strong fingers as he threaded them into her disheveled hair. Heat leapt between them. Brianna could hear her heart beating wildly in her ears and the taste of him sent her senses reeling.

Brianna stood mesmerized long after the kiss had ended. She didn't remember him leaving. One moment he was there, the next he had disappeared into the dim shadows. The stall door opened and Simon Deveril stepped inside.

"I promised to take his wolf to Chertsey for safekeeping."

He did not question her sanity; instead he said simply, "The fastest way is by river. Come, I will hail us a wherry boat."

When they arrived at her mother's castle, the elderly steward greeted her warmly. He had always had a good deal of patience with the animals she had brought him when she was a small girl. He had helped her nurse many a rabbit back to health, then made sure she set them free once they were strong enough to eat and hop about.

"Mr. Croft, this is Shadow. She belongs to a Warwick kinsman who cannot keep her with him for the next few months. I've brought her to Chertsey because I know you will give her a safe home. The wolf is highly intelligent and when she visited Warwick Castle, she was extremely well behaved."

The steward let Shadow sniff his hand. "Mrs. Croft will be in her glory. Our old dog died a month ago and we miss him something fierce. We'll take good care of this one."

"I know you will, Mr. Croft. I'm now lady in waiting to Queen Isabelle at Windsor, so I promise to come and visit Shadow."

"Come to the kitchen and have some breakfast before you leave."

"Thank you. Lovely as that sounds, I must get back to Windsor."

Wolf Mortimer did not waste time returning to Reading, but rode directly north from Windsor. He knew that by day's end he would catch up with the Marcher barons who were moving with all speed to meet with Thomas of Lancaster.

Last night lingered in Wolf's thoughts. When he had returned to camp from his midnight swim, his father summoned him and handed him the message from Brianna de Beauchamp. The news confirmed the visions he had experienced. "We must heed this warning. Grave danger threatens. Edward will bring his force against us."

"I don't fear the feckless cocksucker!"

"Hugh Despencer set the trap at Leeds Castle. When it was successfully sprung, the king became power mad and he lusts for revenge. Hugh Despencer once again holds Edward by the balls, and is now plotting our downfall."

"Experience has taught me to believe the things you foretell. You prophesied trouble at Leeds the night Edmund wed Elizabeth Badlesmere. This time I will heed your warning. Give the order to break camp. We will leave now. I'll pass the word to Hereford, Audley, and d'Amory."

Wolf Mortimer's thoughts came back to the present and his fingers closed over the Celtic touchstone. I was right to trust my instincts about Brianna de Beauchamp. Beneath her fiery temperament, she has a heart of gold.

Wolf caught up with the Mortimers sooner than he expected. Hereford and the other Marcher lords had fled with amazing speed, but Roger's progress had been impeded because his uncle of Chirk was ailing. In the Chilterns he had doubled over with pain and vomited blood.

Wolf conferred with his father and Edmund. "Take the men north with all speed. Leave us a packhorse with a tent and fodder. I'll remain with him, and we'll catch up when he's well enough to travel."

Roger Mortimer, decisive as always, agreed. He would not jeopardize his or Chirk's forces because of one man's illness.

Wolf pitched the small tent in a sheltering stand of fir trees and made his uncle a bed with saddle blankets. Then he went off in search of wood betony. He found some and though the leaves were withered with the cold, it was the white thready roots of the plant that were beneficial for all manner of stomach ailments. He made a fire and boiled the roots in water from the stream. To make certain his patient slept, Wolf added a few drops of distilled poppy, which he always carried in his saddlebags.

When the brew cooled, he propped up Chirk, held the cup to his lips, and made certain he drank every drop. Softly, he crooned a Welsh ballad until the older man dozed; then Wolf withdrew and fed the horses. His heart was heavy—deep down he knew that Mortimer of Chirk was one of the three Marcher lords who would not survive. Yet he sensed that his death was not imminent. That cruel bitch, Life, is not done with him yet. The poor old bugger will have to endure a few more months of suffering before his mortal spirit finds release.

Wolf sat down before the fire and stared into the flames. He put up a barrier to guard his mind against more visions of the future. Instead, he thought of Brianna. His mouth curved in a half smile. Her kiss was not only warm and generous, it was indeed the most memorable kiss I have ever shared.

On the boat ride back from Chertsey, Brianna made a conscious decision not to tell Isabelle about King Edward's plans to go after the Marcher barons. Now that she had warned Roger Mortimer, she felt completely confident they would all be long gone by the time Edward's forces began to search for them. And now that she had alerted the Marchers, even if it did come to a fight they would easily defeat the king's forces, as they had done before.

Brianna and Simon walked briskly from the river and entered Windsor's Lower Ward through a gateway in the west wall. She knew that she must change her clothes and join the others without delay. Today, Isabelle and her ladies would be decorating Windsor's Great Hall for the Yuletide festivities.

"Simon, I thank you with all my heart for your help." Impulsively she hugged him, then picked up her skirts intending to run to her chamber. Before she took one step, she saw the tall figure of her betrothed striding toward her.

"Lincoln Robert! What a lovely surprise." She gave him a dazzling smile, hoping he would not question what she was about.

He did not return the smile. "I can believe you are surprised. Who the devil is your companion?"

"He is not my companion ," Brianna denied. "Deveril is a Warwick man my father sent to Windsor to guard me from danger. And that is exactly what he did when I accompanied the queen to Leeds Castle."

"Thank God you came to no harm. My father and I were so outraged, we took de Warenne men-at-arms into Kent and joined Pembroke in the siege," he said proudly.

You and thirty thousand others. Brianna was immediately ashamed of her thoughts. She reached out and took his hand. "That was most courageous of you, Lincoln. I am proud of your loyalty to Queen Isabelle."

His glance swept over her. "Have you been to the river? You look disheveled, more like a serving girl than a lady in waiting."

"Yes," she improvised quickly. "Isabelle was expecting a boat to bring fresh rushes, holly, and ivy from her hunting park at Banstead. We are garlanding the hall for Yuletide today. I'll go and change and meet you in the Great Hall."

Brianna hurried off, relieved that Lincoln Robert accepted her lame explanation, yet guilty that she had so easily deceived him.

In an amazingly short time, Brianna arrived at the Great Hall wearing a pale green velvet gown with matching ribbons in her hair. Her betrothed was engrossed in conversation with young Blanche FitzAlan, the Earl of Arundel's daughter, whom they both knew well. Brianna was amused to see Blanche gazing up at Lincoln Robert with adoration, hanging on to his every word. I won't ruin her day by telling her we are betrothed.

"Hello, Blanche. It's lovely to see you at Windsor."

"Hello, Brianna. Did you know that Lincoln was one of the nobles who besieged Leeds Castle? He is so gallant and brave!"

"Indeed. I believe I will present him to the queen."

"Ah, Brianna, you are so lucky to be a royal lady in waiting. I wish I were as old as you."

"Are you sure? I'm positively ancient. Excuse us, Blanche." She took Lincoln's arm and drew him across the room to the queen. "Cheeky monkey! She's only a year younger than I."

"Her remark was purely innocent. I think Blanche FitzAlan is a sweet young lady."

"Oh, I agree. Sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth." Brianna smiled her secret smile. She felt so self-assured with Lincoln Robert. She felt safe and in control when they were together. He will make me a very good husband.

"Your Grace, it gives me great pleasure to present Lincoln Robert de Warenne. Both he and his father, the Earl of Surrey, are loyal queen's men."

When Lincoln bowed, Isabelle smiled. "I am honored by your devotion. Lynx de Warenne is my friend Jory's brother, if I am not mistaken, though he has seldom graced my court."

"The Earl of Surrey, like the Earl of Warwick, makes a better warrior than courtier, Your Grace," Brianna explained.

"I am delighted you are here, my lord. Will you spend the Christmas festivities with us?"

"Thank you, Your Grace, but my parents have sent me to bring my betrothed to Hedingham for the Yule, if you could find it in your heart to release her from her duties."

"You are betrothed? Brianna, I had no idea. How romantic." Isabelle sighed wistfully. "I absolutely insist that you go and spend the Yule with your future family."

Well, it seems I have little say in the matter. But it will be lovely to spend Christmas at Hedingham.