Chapter 13

O n Christmas morning, Brianna arose late. I won't be the only one. None of us got to bed much before two o'clock this morning. A serving woman brought her breakfast on a tray and, shortly after, two other servants brought hot water for her bath. When she was done, Brianna took her time selecting just the right gown for the special day.

She donned a frilly lace petticoat and chose her newest gown of cream velvet. The bodice and tight sleeves were embroidered with green oak leaves and the buttons were shaped like acorns. She brushed her red-gold curls until they shone, and decided to wear her hair uncovered. As a final touch she fastened a gold clip decorated with the Warwick staff and bear emblem at each temple.

As soon as she opened her bedchamber door the air became redolent with the tempting smells of roasting meat, game, and spicy mince pies. Beyond the castle kitchens were outdoor cooking pits, where whole oxen and boar had been turning on spits since dawn for the Christmas feast.

When Brianna arrived in the Great Hall she found it filled with the laughing, excited children of the men and women who served Hedingham. Jane was smiling and serene. "Merry Christmas, darling. It does my heart good to see them all so happy."

"Just look at the toys!" Each girl had a doll and a carved cradle and every boy had a painted shield and a wooden sword. "The Welsh archers are such gifted artists. The animals they carve are so detailed and realistic."

Trestle tables were piled with nuts, dried fruit, and sweetmeats, and the children were stuffing themselves without fear of reprimand. Barrels of ale were stacked beside the fireplaces, along with buckets of chestnuts for roasting.

Jamie was capering about with the dogs and when he saw Brianna, he came to wish her Merry Christmas. "You look extremely elegant today, Lady Brianna." He produced a sprig of mistletoe, held it over her head, and stole a kiss.

"Hands off, Lord of Misrule. The lady is mine."

Brianna turned with a teasing smile that fled the moment she saw his face. His cheekbone was badly swollen and bruised. "Lincoln, you're hurt! How on earth did that happen?"

"I warrant it must have happened when I was hauling in the Yule log. Didn't show up until this morning."

"Come to the stillroom and I'll bathe it with angelica."

"Don't fuss, Brianna, you are embarrassing me."

"I'm sorry. Let's go for a walk. I brought my cloak so I could go to the stables and give Venus an apple."

Once they were outside, Brianna scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and reached up to hold it against his cheek. She hid a smile. When no one was watching, Lincoln welcomed her fussing.

It was a Christmas tradition to present every household member of Hedingham with new cloaks and footwear. As well, each family was given bolts of gaily dyed wool and finely woven linen for new garments.

After this the Yule feast began and lasted all afternoon and into the evening. Finally, the de Warennes withdrew into their private living quarters to exchange their gifts.

Brianna watched eagerly as Jane unwrapped her present.

"A red bridle with silver bells! I love it. I've always secretly envied your mother's jingling bridle bells."

The moment Jamie unwrapped his spurs, he put them on to show them off, then boldly gave Brianna a kiss of thanks.

She held her breath as Lincoln unwrapped his sword and scabbard. His eyes told her how much he liked the gift.

He hugged her to him and murmured, "I don't deserve you, Brianna." He gave her a small silver casket. "Happy Christmas."

She opened it and was thrilled to find a pair of cabochon emerald earrings. "How perfect! Emeralds were favored by Venus, the Goddess of Love." She whispered, "I love you, Lincoln."

Lynx carried in a large chest made from cedar wood and presented it to Brianna. "Jane suggested it."

Brianna ran her fingers over the exquisitely carved scene of mares with their foals. When she opened the chest, it was filled with woodruff-scented bed linen, embroidered with the de Warenne name and crest. "Oh, Jane, your gift is beautiful and practical, just like you. I thank you both with all my heart. I will keep it here at Hedingham until Lincoln and I are wed, next Christmas."

They finished the night off with fruitcake and wine and when Brianna retired to her chamber, she packed her clothes, ready for the journey back to Windsor. Then she knelt beside the bed and gave thanks. It had been one of the happiest days of her life.

The next morning she went to the stillroom to collect the jasmine-scented candles she had made for Isabelle. Jane was already there, removing the wax candles from their molds, and Rose was helping her. The moment Brianna appeared, Rose fled.

"Oh, Jane, my heart goes out to her. I urged her to confide her trouble to you."

Jane looked startled. "Rose told you?"

"Oh no…I guessed. But I knew you would help her."

Jane pressed her lips together. "Lynx and I have spoken at length about it. We have decided to acknowledge the child as ours. Whether Rose has a boy or girl, the child will be given the de Warenne name and made legitimate." Jane's face flushed to the roots of her hair.

Brianna stared at her in shocked silence. Lynx is the father of Rose's baby? My God, how could the wicked devil be unfaithful to you? "Jane…I am so sorry for the burden you must bear."

"An innocent babe will never be a burden to me. Don't be shocked, Brianna. Many good men have natural children. When you are older and wiser in the ways of the world, you will realize there are worse sins than infidelity."

On the ride back to Windsor, Brianna was lost in thought most of the way. It had been a revelation that her mother had taken a lover, and that Lynx had dishonored his marriage vows. She glanced at Lincoln. I wonder if he knows about his father and Rose. I mustn't speak of it—Lincoln would die of shame. He was not in a talkative mood, and she assumed he looked glum because they would soon be parted.

When they arrived, Lincoln Robert lifted her from the saddle and Simon Deveril took her horse to the stables.

"You will stay and dine with me, won't you?"

He shook his head. "My face would prompt too many questions. Taffy and I will stop at an inn for supper."

She gently touched her fingertips to his damaged cheekbone in a loving gesture. "Poor Lincoln, I hope you're not in pain."

"I am, but it's my heart that aches because we must part." He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her good-bye.

"I promise to write to you, Lincoln. If we exchange letters every month, it will keep us from missing each other so much."

Simon came back from the stables with her luggage. "I'll take these upstairs for you, my lady."

Brianna stood and waved good-bye until Lincoln and Taffy were out of sight; then she slowly made her way to the queen's apartments. All her thoughts were with Jane. She may not have been born noble, but she is without doubt the gentlest, kindest, most selfless lady in the entire realm. Jane sets an example of noble womanhood that I will try to emulate.

Brianna changed from her riding dress and boots and emerged from her chamber to find Isabelle's ladies had gathered to greet her. Their anxious faces warned her to expect trouble.

"Praise God you are returned," the Countess of Pembroke declared. "The queen refuses to leave her bedchamber."

"Isabelle is unwell, Marie?"

"She cannot stop crying," Marguerite Wake confided.

Arbella Beaumont murmured, "She keeps asking for you."

"I'll go to her." Brianna slipped quietly into Isabelle's bedroom. The queen was sitting in a chair with a look of panic on her face. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Brianna crouched down before her and took her hands. "Tell me what has happened."

Isabelle raised hopeless eyes. "He's coming back."

Brianna did not need to ask whom she meant. Only the return of Hugh Despencer could have such a devastating effect on Isabelle. "How do you know?"

Isabelle handed her a crumpled paper, which was unsigned. "I received this anonymous letter telling me the king ordered the Archbishop of Canterbury to convene the clergy at Saint Paul's to annul the banishment of the Despencers. They are to return to England under Edward's protection."

"Hell and furies! Their persecution of you and of the barons will start all over again."

"Four months…I've been free of Hugh Despencer for only four months! Edward agreed to Mortimer's and Lancaster's demands with every intention of flouting them and bringing back his lover the moment the barons left London. Brianna, do you think there is any chance they will ride to my rescue a second time?"

How can I tell you that the king intends to hunt down his enemies with the large army he gathered under the pretense of avenging you? "There can be no doubt that Mortimer and Lancaster will be outraged at the greedy Despencers' return, for their own sake as well as yours."

"I cannot rid myself of hopeless despair and dread."

"You mustn't allow yourself to become despondent like this, or Hugh Despencer will have defeated you before he even returns. Always remember you are the Queen of England. Don't allow him to turn you into a victim. Every day you must don a beautiful gown and jewels. They will lend you a regal self-assurance."

"Brianna, I'm so glad you're back. You bolster my confidence."

"I wager you haven't eaten. I shall order food immediately. We will dine in your chamber tonight. Then I think you should write to your brother Charles. The newly crowned King of France must condemn Edward's recalling the Despencers. Perhaps your brother can influence Pope John to voice his displeasure also."

"I shall write the letter tonight," Isabelle said with determination. "Marie communicates regularly with family members in France. Her correspondence won't be suspect—I can conceal my letters inside hers."

It suddenly occurred to Brianna that perhaps King Edward had never actually been parted from Hugh Despencer. They had doubtless been meeting secretly. How easy for Hugh Despencer to anchor his ship off the Isle of Wight when Edward visited Portchester Castle. Together they plotted the trap at Leeds Castle and now Despencer will urge the usually docile king to take revenge on the Marcher barons because they soundly defeated Hugh in the Welsh Borders. Brianna poured Isabelle wine. I must tell her, but not tonight. She would sink back into hopelessness.

Wolf Mortimer and his uncle of Chirk met up with his father and the other Marchers at Doncaster in Yorkshire, where Thomas of Lancaster had called a hasty parliament.

Roger Mortimer embraced his uncle. "How are you faring?"

"I'm well enough," the older man said gruffly.

Wolf's gray eyes met his father's and he shook his head in silent communication. The three men joined Hereford, Audley, and d'Amory in the castle's Great Hall where Lancaster awaited them.

"My spies have reported that Edward has secretly had the banishment of the hated Despencers annulled and they are on the verge of returning." When angry voices rose in protest, Lancaster held up his hand. "My spies also report that Hugh Despencer sank a Genoese merchant ship in the English Channel, but not before pirating its treasure. This was done with the king's blessing. The pair have been in communication for months."

Roger's eyes again met his son's. Wolf had been right—Edward and Hugh had never parted.

"I have here a Doncaster Petition that I intend to send to London telling the people that their king is recalling his degenerate favorite."

Roger Mortimer spoke up. "I have it on good authority that Edward took revenge on Leeds Castle to set an example. The king intends to keep the military force that gathered to avenge the queen's honor, and use it against any who oppose him."

"My petition spells out Edward's perfidy in supporting Despencer's piracy. I will undermine the support the king has gathered in London and, in the public's interest, I will rid the realm of the Despencers' evil influence."

Loud cheers went up in Doncaster's Great Hall. Thomas of Lancaster signed the petition with a flourish. "I want every baron present to affix his name and I will see that it is sent on its way to London today."

Wolf Mortimer moved closer to his father. "Lancaster fancies himself to be the great Simon de Montfort, uniting the barons and safeguarding the people of England. Don't put your trust in him."

Hereford signed immediately, but as Audley and d'Amory were waiting their turn, Adam Orleton, the warriorlike Bishop of Hereford, entered the hall with a half dozen men-at-arms. Adam had been born at a Mortimer manor and was rumored to be the natural son of the Baron of Chirk.

"Thank God I found you. Because of the long absence of the Marcher lords, the Welsh have chosen this opportune time for a massive uprising."

"Peste!" Roger swore. "We will have to return. Adam, get word immediately to Rickard de Beauchamp in Ireland and tell him to bring his fighting men."

Wolf Mortimer cursed. "I foresaw a threat from the west and should have realized the Welsh would take up arms in our absence."

Roger passed the news of the uprising to the other Marcher lords and they agreed they must leave without delay. Wolf's warning about Lancaster was foremost in Mortimer's mind. He told Thomas they were returning home and challenged him outright. "In the event Edward's army moves against us, can I rely upon you to join forces with us?"

"Sign the Doncaster Petition and I pledge to bring my fighting force to join the Marchers and defeat Edward."

As the Marcher barons left the hall, Wolf decided to reveal a strong premonition he had about Lancaster, prompted by the sound of bagpipes only he could hear. "I believe Thomas is seeking aid from Scotland."

"A pact with Robert Bruce would be treason—a hanging offense," Mortimer declared.

Hereford spoke up. "The Bruce and Edward are formidable enemies. It would be one sure way to depose our degenerate king."

"I agree. Our enemy's enemy is our friend," d'Amory declared.

Roger was outraged. "I've fought the Bruce in Scotland and in Ireland. He is England's enemy. I'll have no part of it!"

"I have decided to take down Lancaster from his high perch. Once I've dealt with Thomas, I will repeal the Ordinances the whoreson forced upon me," Edward confided to Hugh as they lay abed at Gloucester Castle. Despencer had sailed up the Severn to celebrate the New Year with his royal lover.

Hugh reached between the king's legs and rolled his flaccid member between his palms. He had learned it was a surefire method of arousing Edward. Once he had inflamed the king's desire, it was child's play to bend him to his will. "You promised to avenge me, my love."

"And so I shall, Hugh. Lancaster has sent a petition to the people of London, accusing you of piracy and vowing to rid the realm of your influence."

"Your royal cousin is a mere annoyance. He is filled with hot air, but the coward won't venture far from his cushy castle of Pontefract, I warrant. We can deal with him anytime."

Hugh moved down in the bed and pressed kisses along Edward's inner thighs until the king's cock began to pulse with need. Hugh suddenly stopped and raised his head. "I want you to go after Mortimer. The whoreson bastard led the Marchers and took sixty-three of my manors. They robbed me of property worth fifty thousand pounds, and I lust for revenge. You will assuage my lust, won't you, Edward?"

"Yes, yes! Haven't I promised you whatever you desire, Hugh?"

"I desire that tomorrow you order your levies to gather at Cirencester and that you immediately march to capture Mortimer."

"Why, in the name of Christ, did you not remain in Ireland where you were safe, madam?" Roger Mortimer could not hide his fury that his wife, Joan, who had chosen to live apart from him for years, turned up at Ludlow Castle two days after he arrived. It had been a long trek from Doncaster; they had already fought off a Welsh raid on his lands at Wigmore, and his temper was vile.

"What a charming welcome," she drawled. "I'll come to Ludlow when I wish. Don't forget I brought you this castle when we wed."

"You never let me forget. I should have known it was concern for Ludlow, rather than your children, that brought you back." He made no effort to hide the distaste he felt at the sight of her. Once attractive, though she was always self-centered, her body was now stout from overindulgence, her face petulant with dissatisfaction.

Mortimer turned on his heel and left her presence.

Joan's eyes narrowed with something akin to hatred. She had an insatiable desire for the virile, arrogant bastard, though she could no longer lure him to her bed. She lived apart, hoping he would seek her out, but he never did. "A pox on you, Mortimer!"

Roger went to the stables in search of Rickard de Beauchamp and found him and the men he'd brought from Ireland, feeding and watering their horses. "You should have left her in Ireland, but I imagine the dominant bitch overruled you."

"I pointed out the danger, but she insisted I make room on the ship for her." Rickard had made sure his own wife, Catherine, who was Roger's sister, remained in Ireland. He looked at his friend with shrewd eyes. "It's not just the Welsh we must worry about."

Roger shook his head and told Rickard the whole story. "The Welsh on one side and the king's forces on the other will have us in a vise." He gave a confident laugh. "We've been in tight places before. You and I will survive, Rickard."

"Is my father in danger from the king?"

"I don't honestly know. Warwick was the one who told me not to ride to Leeds Castle. He had sense enough to stay out of it."

"I warrant you have scouts on the other side of the River Severn, watching for any sign of the king's forces?"

"I do, and so has Hereford." Roger and Rickard de Beauchamp had been friends for twenty years, since they'd been knighted together. They never hesitated to confide in each other. "Wolf suspects that Lancaster is in secret negotiations with the Scots."

Rickard whistled in surprise, then considered for a minute. "Thomas has always fancied himself king. If he thought the Bruce could depose Edward and put him on the throne, he wouldn't cavil at traitorous dealings with Scotland."

"The Marcher barons have a pact with Lancaster."

"A pact whereby Thomas will expect us to go to his aid. The question is, will he come to ours?" Rickard asked.

"I don't know the answer, but Wolf is certain that he won't."

All at Ludlow worked until midnight, readying armor, weapons, and horses. They were prepared to fend off raids from the Welsh, and protect their landholdings and livestock, but they also needed to be ready to defend themselves if Edward's army threatened.

Roger bade his sons good night and climbed the stairs to his own chamber. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, to ease the muscles in his shoulders. The moment he closed the door, he knew he was not alone.

Joan lay stretched out on his bed sipping from a goblet. Her robe was undone, exposing heavy thighs. "I'm tired of waiting."

"While I'm simply tired." His voice was curt. "You seem to have lost your way, madam."

She drained the wine. "Poor little lamb has losht her way."

Lamb? More like tough old mutton. He knew she was flown with wine. Roger went to the bed, pulled her robe to cover her, and lifted her into his arms. He could hear her laugh deep in her throat as he carried her to her own chamber. Her head suddenly fell back and when he looked down, he could see she had fallen into a drunken sleep. He laid her on her bed with a gentleness that belied his true feelings and covered her with a warm blanket.