Chapter 17

"L ord Mortimer," Brianna said softly as her heart beat a wild tattoo inside her breast. She had arranged with Gerard Alspaye to be at the door that led to the Tower garden when he brought Roger Mortimer for his daily outing.

"Dearest Brianna." His gray eyes kindled with affection. "You are very brave."

Alspaye opened the door and drew his prisoner outside.

Brianna was grateful to have seen Roger and thrilled beyond belief that he had spoken an endearment to her. She remained where she was, guarding the door, acting as lookout because Isabelle was in the garden. It was mid-April; it had taken weeks to arrange this brief meeting between the queen and Mortimer.

Brianna was not surprised that Roger had soon made Alspaye his friend and confidant. His young gaoler was dazzled by the dark Borderer's charisma and magnetism. Brianna also had worked her charm on Gerard until he finally agreed to make it possible for the queen to meet his prisoner.

Roger Mortimer stepped beneath a shade tree that would shield him from observation from the Tower windows. The queen was there before him, waiting impatiently to meet the courageous Marcher lord who had risked and lost everything.

Isabelle held out beseeching hands. "Lord Mortimer, my guilt overwhelms me. It is my fault you are a prisoner."

Roger took her hands. The moment he touched her, something akin to lightning sparked between them. As he gazed down at the small, exquisite female, a desire to make her happy engulfed him. No woman had ever had this effect on him before, though he had known many intimately.

He took her fingers to his lips. " Ma belle , you are more a prisoner than I will ever be. My heart aches for you."

Her lovely blue eyes sparkled with tears as she gazed at him with a poignant look of sorrow mingled with admiration.

In that moment she was the most feminine creature he had ever seen; a supplicant begging him for forgiveness. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face, framed by delicate blond tendrils of hair, cried out to his overt, dominant masculinity.

"There is nothing to forgive, my queen. You must not shed one tear for me, Isabelle. I forbid it."

"I never knew a man with such strength and courage. What can I do to ease your captivity?" she implored.

He shook his head. "I will survive. My Uncle Chirk ails—he'd benefit from a doctor's visit."

"I'll send my own physician," she promised.

"Go, now," he ordered. "You must not be discovered with me."

Isabelle obeyed, though she was reluctant to leave him.

It pleased Mortimer that though she was the Queen of England, she willingly did as he bade her.

Isabelle slipped through the door where Brianna stood waiting. Wordlessly, the pair of conspirators hurried back to the queen's elegantly decorated apartments.

It was Friday, and Isabelle had invited Sir Stephen Segrave to sup with her that evening. She had installed a cook and small kitchen staff so they could provide meals whenever she visited. They had been given rooms in another part of the Tower, away from the royal apartments, so that when they finished their work in the kitchen, they would retire to their own chambers to give the queen privacy.

"I have a dozen potent bottles of wine I brought from the Wardrobe storage," Brianna confirmed to Isabelle. "When I serve you tonight, I will keep Segrave's glass filled constantly. We want him to fall in the habit of overindulging on Friday nights so that he sleeps like the dead."

"I can tell by his florid complexion that he is a man who is addicted to drink. I know the signs of a drunkard well, since I am wed to one." Isabelle shuddered with distaste.

That evening the constable arrived promptly at six o'clock and for the next three hours he set about devouring enough food and wine to fell an ox.

Isabelle entertained him, flattered him, and encouraged him to talk about himself. All the while, Brianna plied him with dazzling smiles and potent wine.

When Isabelle believed that his tongue was sufficiently loosened, she said, "Sir Stephen, your position as Constable of the Tower carries so much responsibility, especially now that you have two notorious noble prisoners."

"One of them doesn't look long for this world, Your Grace."

"I shouldn't want you to get the blame if anything happened to the wretch. For your own safeguard, Sir Stephen, why don't you have my physician take a look at the fellow?"

"Mayhap you are right…try to keep him alive at least until he stands trial."

It was after nine o'clock when Segrave rose to leave. When he bent over the queen's hand to bid her good night, the constable swayed on his feet and Brianna knew she had done her job well.

An hour later, Brianna opened the door to Alspaye and Mortimer's servant. She gave them the meat and bread left over from the queen's supper and added a bottle of wine. Her heart was a little less heavy, knowing that Roger would eat tonight.

Isabelle lay in bed in her newly furbished bedchamber unable to sleep. Though her day had begun early and ended late, and had been filled with activities, the only minutes that meant anything to her were those she had spent in the garden with Roger Mortimer. She relived their encounter over and over again in her mind.

It was the first time a real man had looked at her with appreciation for her femininity. His bold gray eyes told her frankly that he found her sexually attractive. It was a new and thrilling experience and she responded like a flower lifting its face to the sun. She hungered for a man's attention, his admiration and approval, his strength and his tenderness. Today, when he touched her, he had imbued her with his vitality and his power. She marveled that though he was in captivity, they would never be able to cage his spirit.

Before Roger Mortimer lay down on the narrow bed in his cell, he fed Chirk a full cup of wine and waited until he slept. Then, with his eyes fixed on the stars visible through the small, high window, rather than the water droplets trickling down the damp stonewall, he thought about the rendezvous in the garden.

On a physical level, Isabelle's delicate, blond beauty appealed to all his masculine senses. He tried to pinpoint the thing that aroused his intense attraction. It suddenly dawned on him that it was her innocence . Even though she was twenty-seven years old and a mother, she was not yet a woman. Her female sexuality had not yet been awakened. She had mated and procreated, but she had never been taught that sex could be for pleasure. That still lay before her and he anticipated that he would be the one who would introduce her to sensuality. What made her extremely tempting and enticing was the fact that she was ripe and ready, perhaps without even being aware of it. She was alluring and tantalizing, with the added fillip of innocence, which made her both desirable and utterly irresistible.

On an intellectual level, Isabelle is even more appealing. She is the reigning Queen of England, beloved and revered by the people, yet seemingly unaware of the infinite power she possesses. With a woman like Isabelle at my side, there is nothing I could not accomplish. If I make her love me and she yields to me in all things, I could rule England!

The following day, Isabelle's physician reported back to her after he had attended Mortimer of Chirk.

"I believe the elderly Chirk suffers from a malignancy of the stomach. It is doubtful he will recover at his advanced age. Though their living conditions are less than ideal, Roger Mortimer does an admirable job of nursing him. I left him a decoction of poppy to ease the pain and will order more."

When Brianna returned to Windsor, Simon Deveril sent her a message to meet him at the stables. On the pretext of riding in Windsor's vast park, Deveril led her through the trees to where her brother, Rickard, was waiting for her.

Brianna's mother, Jory, had given him strict instructions to keep the knowledge of Warwick's blindness from her daughter, but there was other shocking news that he wanted his sister to pass along to the young nobles who were in confinement at Windsor, and to Roger Mortimer, if such a thing were possible.

Brianna dismounted, ran to where her brother sat waiting with his back against a stout oak trunk. "Rickard, you have news?"

"Most of it bad. The king issued a general muster for the Scots, but instead he moved against Lancaster. They took his castle of Tutbury where Marcher baron d'Amory was in hiding. D'Amory died in battle. Lancaster's army met the king's at Boroughbridge and was defeated. His fighting men deserted in droves and Lancaster surrendered to the king. The Earl of Hereford was with him, but he too was killed in battle."

Brianna's hand went to her throat. "Ah, no! How can I tell the de Bohun brothers that their father is dead?"

"I would do it myself, if there was any way I could communicate with them, Brianna."

"That's impossible. I don't want you discovered and taken into custody. It's difficult for me to communicate, but I'll manage. Rickard, please tell me that you kept Father from going to Lancaster's aid?"

"Father remained at Warwick. At the end of March, Thomas of Lancaster was tried as a rebel in his own castle of Pontefract by the king and the elder Despencer, and found guilty of treason. He was taken outside and beheaded on his own land."

Brianna's eyes widened. "The king executed Thomas of Lancaster? But he has royal blood—he is Edward's kinsman. Queen Isabelle will be horrified!" A feeling of dread washed over her. "If he would kill Lancaster, he could do the same to Mortimer!"

"Exactly. A way must be found for Roger to escape."

"No one has ever escaped from the Tower," Deveril pointed out.

"I have an army. Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, has an army, and we are gathering more every day. Try to get word to Roger."

"That will be the easy part. I have a way to communicate."

"Brianna, I don't need to tell you how dangerous this is. Have a care for yourself. Promise you won't do anything reckless."

"You have no need to worry, Rickard," she assured him. Recklessness is second nature to me. It's in my blood!

On the way back to the stables, Brianna asked Simon, "Do you have any contact with Wolf?"

"Most nights the guards gamble and dice in the barracks. I often join them as do the Mortimers and de Bohuns, but there is no way I can speak openly to them and pass along this information."

"It is only necessary to pass one word to Wolf."

"One word?"

"Just say Brianna. Wolf Mortimer will do the rest."

Isabelle noticed Brianna's windblown hair. "Were you out riding? Now the weather is fine, I too must get some exercise."

"I met with Simon Deveril. He told me some terrible news." Brianna would tell no one that Rickard de Beauchamp was in England, not even Isabelle. "The king's army fought a battle with Lancaster's forces."

"Though Thomas is his cousin, Edward has always hated him."

"The Earl of Hereford was killed in battle."

" Mon Dieu ! De Bohun was Edward's brother-in-law. John and Humphrey will greatly mourn their father's death. Why must there always be fighting?"

"Lancaster surrendered and was tried for treason at Pontefract Castle and was found guilty."

Isabelle's hand flew to her throat. "I must write immediately and intervene on Thomas's behalf. He has always defended me against injustice. I will beg that Edward reprieve him."

"Isabelle, it's too late. Lancaster is dead—he was beheaded."

The queen burst into tears. "Perhaps it isn't true. Mayhap Deveril is just repeating wicked rumors he has heard."

At dinner, however, Marie showed the queen a letter she had received from Pembroke that confirmed the horrific news.

"He writes that they discovered evidence that Thomas had a pact with the Scots!" Isabelle cried with disbelief.

The queen was too upset to eat. She retired to her chamber with Brianna and railed against her husband. "Edward killed Thomas out of pure revenge. Lancaster beheaded Piers Gaveston, the love of Edward's life, and the king has harbored hatred for him ever since. I warrant his vengeance was cruel and merciless."

Brianna did her best to comfort Isabelle, and did not leave her until she had cried herself to sleep.

When Brianna sought her own chamber, she did not undress. She laid her black velvet cloak on the far side of her bed, she blew out all the candles, then lay down on the bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and waited for her visitor.

It was long after midnight when he arrived exactly as he had the last time. Brianna didn't even hear her chamber door open and close. She did not see Wolf until he lit the candle and it illuminated his face.

Her pulse fluttered at the sight of him and when he stepped close, she could hear her heartbeat thudding in her eardrums.

"Let me start with the good news," she said. "There is little of it, I'm afraid. I saw your father and he is well. I was able to pass some food and wine to him from the queen's kitchen."

"Thank you."

"Rickard was here. He asked me to get word to your father that he has an army…Adam Orleton has an army and they are gathering more recruits every day."

"That is heartening."

"The rest of the news is terrible." Brianna licked her lips.

"Just tell me."

"King Edward mustered the army for Scotland, but instead he moved against Thomas of Lancaster. They took Tutbury Castle and d'Amory was killed. There was a battle at Boroughbridge and the Earl of Hereford was killed." Brianna hesitated. "You don't look surprised."

"I've sensed for some time that three Marcher lords would die."

Brianna gazed into his eyes. "Wolf, do you have second sight?"

"Occasionally I see the past, sometimes the future," he acknowledged.

"You knew you would be confined, that's why you brought Shadow to me. You knew your father would be captured!"

"Neither of us was captured. We surrendered."

"I am so sorry you must tell John and Humphrey de Bohun that their father is dead."

"John is now the Earl of Hereford."

"That is so—I didn't realize." She took a deep breath. "At the Battle of Boroughbridge, Lancaster's forces deserted him and he surrendered."

"If Lancaster had kept his word and ridden to support us, we would have defeated the king's forces. He got what he deserved."

"They tried him for treason in his own castle of Pontefract."

"If Lancaster made a pact with Robert Bruce and the Scots, he was guilty of treason."

Pembroke's letter said they found evidence he had made a pact with Robert Bruce. Wolf, how on earth do you know these things? "They beheaded Thomas of Lancaster a week ago."

"Christ! No English noble has been executed for treason since the Norman Conquest."

"You foresaw three deaths…Lancaster was not one of them?"

"I foresaw three Marcher deaths. My Uncle Chirk is the third."

"Then you know he is ailing." A lump came into her throat.

Wolf felt Brianna's sadness and the urge to comfort her rose up in him. He had vowed he would do nothing to seduce her. It was almost impossible for him to resist enfolding her in his arms. He cursed silently. "If Edward would execute his own royal cousin, there isn't a nobleman in England who is safe."

"That's why Rickard said your father must escape. But that is impossible. No one has ever escaped from the Tower of London."

"To a Mortimer, nothing is impossible."

Brianna watched him don the black silk hood; he snuffed the candle and literally vanished. Her heart pounded as she pushed back the covers and swept up her black velvet cloak. She intended to follow Wolf Mortimer to learn how he was able to disappear from his chamber, evade his guards, and return without being detected. She threw on her cloak, pulled the hood close to conceal her face, and opened the door.

He was gone, of course, as she knew he would be. She ran down the stairs and went outside into the Upper Ward. Instinct told her to keep close against the buildings, as he must do, to get back to Windsor's Lower Ward.

It was the dark of night and she saw and heard nothing—not the least hint of a movement anywhere. He moves like a shadow. Perhaps he learned it from his wolf. Nay, stealth is innate to his nature. Wolf Mortimer has inherited the ancient Celtic traits and mystic power from his ancestors.

Brianna stood in the shadow of a tower at the top of the Lower Ward and allowed her glance to travel slowly along the guardhouses and barracks. Then she raised her eyes to the second-story chambers where the Mortimers were confined. She detected no movement and was convinced Windsor's Lower Ward was empty.

Her gaze moved to the buildings on the opposite side and stopped at the doorway of the Chapel of Edward the Confessor, which had been built by the king's grandfather in the last century. Brianna wasn't absolutely sure, but it seemed as if the door, deep in the shadows, had just closed.

She pulled her hood close and crossed to the chapel. Inside, the vaulted church was cold, dark, and silent as a tomb. Sunday services in the chapel drew some of the guards, but otherwise it was seldom used and was completely unoccupied in the middle of the night. The altar at the far end held a pair of flickering tapers, which gave off a meager glow that barely penetrated the surrounding darkness.

Brianna moved silently up the chapel nave, listening carefully for any rustle or creak that would tell her she was not alone. She concluded no one was there and was about to retrace her steps when she decided to go behind the altar. She stood still, wishing her eyes would adjust to the darkness. When they didn't, she moved to the back wall and ran her hand along the stone. She drew in a swift breath when her fingers detected a wooden door.

Suddenly, a hand clamped across her mouth and Brianna almost jumped out of her skin. Her heart hammered in her breast and her knees gave out. A powerful arm wrapped about her waist from behind was the only thing that kept her from sliding to the floor.

"What the hellfire are you doing?" Wolf hissed. When he sensed she would not scream, he removed his hand from her mouth.

"I'm following you."

He pulled her round to face him and removed his silk hood. "You are putting yourself in danger!"

She could just make out his features in the dim light, and his expression was fierce. "There must be a passage between the chapel and the buildings that house the guards!"

His hands gripped her shoulders and he shook her like a rag doll. "If you reveal the secret you put me in jeopardy," he growled.

"I swear to you I'll guard the secret with my life."

"Go back to bed, you little hellcat. You cannot come to me—I'll come to you."

Wolf was implacable. His voice held such a forbidding tone, Brianna did not dare argue. "I understand," she whispered.

"Go! Now!"

She nodded and hurried from behind the altar. Her feet carried her down the nave until she came to the third pew. Then she stepped inside, slid to her knees, and put her head down.

Brianna waited, hardly daring to breathe, until she gauged that half an hour had passed. The smell of must mingled with the faint pungent aroma of incense made her nostrils quiver as she left the pew and crept back up the aisle. She took one of the thin tapers from its candlestick and gasped when a drop of hot wax fell on her hand. She stopped breathing and listened.

If Wolf were still here he would have heard my gasp . With slow steps she went behind the altar. She held the taper high and its light revealed the wooden door. She gripped the iron ring, turned it, and pushed. She almost fell down the steep steps of the gaping dark cavern that opened beneath her feet.

Brianna recoiled in horror. Dread from her childhood washed over her and panic threatened to engulf her. Nothing could ever induce her to go down into that airless, dank, black hole that led underground. She closed the door and backed away, her heart still hammering with fear. Wolf is right…I can never go to him. He will have to come to me.