A Year & a Day (3 page)

"Come up to my chamber." Lynx signaled his two squires. "Taffy, ask the steward to plenish a chamber for my sister; tell him I don't care who he has to turf out on his ear. Thomas, fetch some ale."

"Ale?" the Irish squire asked doubtfully. No respectable lady drank aught but wine.

Lynx said dryly, "My sister has the appetite of three men-at-arms. It provides the energy for her mayhem."

Jory gave the Irish squire a wink that did peculiar things to his insides. He jumped to do Lynx's bidding, but not before he returned the lady's wink.

When they were alone, Jory threw herself into one of the carved chairs before the fire and lifted her foot in the air. "Help me off with these damned boots."

Lynx turned his back to her, drew her foot through his legs and tugged. The first boot popped off easily, but the second was more difficult to dislodge. Jory placed her stockinged foot against his backside and pushed hard. "You make a lovely maid."

Lynx flung the boots onto the hearth to dry. "You don't need a maid, you need a bloody squire."

"Mmm, what a novel idea. May I have your Irishman?"

"Can you not behave yourself?" he asked repressively.

"No," she replied cheerfully, lifting her skirts to warm her legs. "Have you found a special lady yet worthy of your affection?"

"No, I have not."

"Ugh, that probably means you are still keeping that awful mistress of yours. When your heart's desire is to have a child, why do you waste your time with Alicia?"

"We are not discussing my shortcomings, we are discussing yours." When silence stretched between them, Lynx said sharply, "I'm waiting."

"And you do it with such charm," she teased. Then, knowing she must confess all, she started at the beginning, picking and choosing her words in order to put herself in the best light.

"When Humphrey was killed in Wales, I grieved so deeply I thought I would go mad, as did others." She paused as the inevitable lump of sorrow rose up in her throat. She swallowed hard before she could continue. "Finally my dearest friend, Princess

Joanna, took pity on me and invited me to stay with her in Gloucester. Hereford and Gloucester are only twenty-five miles apart and we had visited often." Marjory paused for breath.

"I am aware of the traveling distance between the two cities; get to the heart of the matter."

Jory sighed. "My father-in-law objected. When it dawned on me that deBohun wanted me for his son Henry, I was appalled. I suspect he's already sent for the dispensation. Lynx, I could never marry my husband's brother.'"

Lynx frowned. "You are in disgrace because you refused him? I'll have a word with Hereford."

"No, no, I haven't got to that part yet. I'm perfectly capable of handling Hereford, for God's sake."

Lynx made a visible effort to control his impatience. "Jory, cut to the bloody chase."

"Well, I suppose you could call it Providence that I went to Joanna, for within weeks her aging husband took to his bed and died."

The king had married his daughter Joanna to the greatest noble in the realm. Gilbert de Clare had been Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, as well as having owned part of Ireland and Wales, but he had been a good deal older than the Plantagenet princess.

"I'm glad you could be with her. The king and all of England mourned the passing of Gilbert de Clare."

"Oh, it wasn't a love match; de Clare was ancient. Joanna was madly in love with Gilbert's squire, Ralph de Monthermer."

Lynx was shocked. Surely Princess Joanna had not been unfaithful to the powerful Earl of Gloucester? "You aided and abetted the princess to commit adultery!" Lynx accused.

"You are as bad as the rest! All are blaming me as if I pushed them into bed and undressed them."

"The truth, Marjory," Lynx thundered.

"Well, perhaps I undid the buttons on her night rail," she admitted, winking saucily. "You know I am cursed with impulsiveness."

"And encouraged Princess Joanna to act impulsively too. No wonder the de Clares are outraged, with the earl not yet cold in his grave. You are usually such a clever little she-devil, how did theyfind out?"

"We tried our utmost to keep the marriage secret, but the priest must have blabbed."

Lynx de Warenne stared at his sister in horror. "Bones of Christ, lying with him and
marrying
him are worlds apart! What could you have been thinking? Monthermer is a bloody
squire
, for God's sake!"

"Squire no longer; he is nothing less than the Earl of Gloucester and Hertford," she whispered through dry lips.

"Splendor of God, you are absolutely right!" Lynx gasped, quickly realizing the repercussions of Joanna's hasty marriage.

"The de Clares sent a messenger hotfoot to the king and packed me off, back to my ogre of a father-in-law. I promised Joanna I'd ride to the king here at Newcastle and explain everything to him."

"Explain to Edward Plantagenet that his most powerful earldom of Gloucester has been bestowed upon a squire? You must be queer in the head!"

"It runs in the family." Jory's attempt at humor fell on unap-preciative ears. She thought Lynx's face looked more grim than she had ever seen it. "You think of Edward Plantagenet as a king; I think of him as a man. There isn't a male breathing who cannot bemanip—" Jory saw the warning look on her brother's face and did not dare finish her sentence.

"You and Princess Joanna are like two bloody peas in a pod! The pair of you are far too willful with a high conceit of yourselves."

"That's why we are such good friends."

"The king would be incensed with you. I forbid you to seek him out tonight. Edward has enough on his mind at the moment; this Scottish situation has put him in a towering rage."

The look of defeat on Marjory's face suddenly touched Lynx

with compassion. She had undertaken a hundred-and-fifty-mile journey for friendship's sake. He saw the mauve shadows beneath her beautiful eyes, saw the droop of her slim shoulders. "Take my chamber; try to rest. I'll come back and escort you to dinner." Then he went in search of his Welsh squire, Taffy, who had been given an impossible task. There would be no empty chambers in Newcastle this night.

******************

lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her. Her pale green gown matched her eyes; her jewels were chosen to draw attention to her feminine curves. From a heavy gold chain dangled a cabochon emerald that swung in the valley between her upthrust breasts, separating, emphasizing, and irresistibly drawing the eye. Its only competition was another gold chain that went round her waist and held a second emerald that rested upon her highmons.

The murmur of men's voices as she passed sounded like growls. To Alicia, on Lynx's other arm, she whispered, "Ooh, they're like a pack of hungry dogs. Shall we draw lots to see who shall be the bone —and who the bitch?" Jory saw the look of revulsion on Alicia's face at the thought of the hall overflowing with knights and uncouth men-at-arms and hid a smile. Personally, she could think of nothing more stimulating than being surrounded by men.

As she swept down the long head table of earls and barons, Jory had a smile for each of them.

John de Bohun made a place for her beside him. She went down in a graceful curtsy before him. "Thank you for my safe escort, my dear lord. I shall dine with my uncle John tonight. I haven't had the pleasure of his company in months. But I'm sure Alicia would be most honored to sit at table with England's constable." She knew John de Bohun could not help his proprietory feelings toward her and that he mourned her loss as his daughter-in-law.

Alicia gave her a look that would curdle milk, and as Jory took her place between John de Warenne and Lynx, she murmured, "That should give you breathing space."

John looked down at her with doting eyes. "Hello, Minx, you grow lovelier every day." Lynx and Minx, it was a jest she and Lynx had shared with their uncle since they were children.

"She's in serious trouble," Lynx informed him.

"Not again?" her uncle asked indulgently.

"I simply brought a message to the king from his daughter Joanna."

"You shouldn't really be here," John admonished gently. "Trouble threatens with Scotland; we are taking the army there."

Marjory's face lit up. "You can give me safe escort, I promise to leave as soon as I've had an opportunity to speak with the king. I can go to Carlisle to visit my godmother, Marjory de Bruce. She will welcome me with open arms."

"She will
not,"
Lynx thundered. "Carlisle Castle has been chosen as the mustering point for the armies' supplies and any day now it will be overrun by de Burgh's Irishmen. Carlisle is certainly no fit place for a lady."

Jory's thoughts flashed about like mercury trying to keep one step ahead of her brother, which was no easy task. Suddenly she smiled. "Then I shall go to Wigton. Even you, Brother, cannot deny me access to our own castle." Wigton was only eight or nine miles from Carlisle Castle where the Bruces were governors.

Lynx smiled back at her. "Wigton it is. You will be good company for Alicia."

"Peste!" Marjory swore. "There is always a damn fly in the ointment."

"Why are you in trouble?" John asked. "Because you refuse to remarry? What is it you two have against marriage?"

"I have nothing against marriage—for others. No, I am being facetious. I loved Humphrey very much and would not have chosen to be widowed for all the crown jewels, but now that I have experienced widowhood I realize its advantages far outweigh

those of being an unwed maid, or even a wife. I need bend the knee to no man. For the first time in my life I am free to make my own decisions."

"Decisions which are invariably rash," Lynx reminded her.

Jory placed her hand over his. "Lynx, Joanna couldn't help herself. Surely you remember what it's like to fall in love?"

"Love?" Lynx was incredulous. "There is no such thing as
falling in love
. It is a myth created by women, for women. Men may pretend in order to get what they want from women, but I doubt there's a man breathing who truly believes in such nonsense."

Jory lifted her lashes in surprise. "What about Sylvia?"

"Our marriage was arranged, the way all good marriages are. We didn't do anything so ridiculous as
fall in
love!”

Jory studied her brother's face. Lynx de Warenne was one of the handsomest warriors in all of England. His muscular physique and mane of tawny hair caused women to sigh and offer their hearts to him. It was incomprehensible that he had never experienced being in love with a woman. At that moment she felt a great pity for him and quickly lowered her lashes lest he see it.

Lynx changed the subject. "It looks like the king won't be dining with us tonight."

"No, he just received a dispatch that incensed him." John lowered his voice so none but Lynx could hear his words. "Baliol of Scotland has dismissed all officeholders appointed by Edward and confiscated all lands held by the English. The king is presently writing out an order that all Scots fortresses along the border be placed in his hands until the war with France is over."

"Then tomorrow we had better prepare the men to march," Lynx said decisively.

Three

King Edward I, the finest lawmaker England had ever known, was in amil-blown Plantagenet rage.

"Whoreson! Dung-eater! Scab-arsed baboon!"

Three men cowered before him, knowing their fate would be sealed once Edward Plantagenet ceased his raving. They had been caught by his spies in the Port of Berwick, smuggling a message to King Philip of France.

"If that dog turd, Baliol, and his prick-licking henchman, Comyn, think I will allow them to form an alliance with France, they have let the maggots devour their gray matter. Splendor of Christ, do they not know I will crush them beneath my boot? Baliol has sat on Scotland's throne for three years,
at my
bidding
, and clearly it has been three years too long!

"For months he has been yapping about my ankles, flouting my orders, and for months I have kicked him aside, thinking he would eventually learn obedience and come to heel. Does he not understand that I am the Lord Superior of Scotland?"

The king brandished a parchment in each fist. One was the damning letter to Philip of France that his spies had confiscated, the other was BalioPs Oath of Fealty. Edward's fierce blue eyes stared at the three men before him. "Insurrection! Treason! Betrayal! God will avail him naught now, it is too late."

The leader swallowed hard. "Majesty, permit me to carry your words to Baliol."

Incredulous that the messenger had the temerity to barter for his life, Edward imperiously raised a finger, summoning a guard. "I have my own royal messengers. I have no need of Scots offal! Hang them."

King Edward returned to his privy chambers, high in Newcastle, and summoned the men who had brought in the prisoners. They were in the pay of the palatinate Bishop of Durham, who was in charge of raising an army from Edward's northern levies. In his firm decisive hand the king wrote out a missive, praising the bishop's diligence and ordering him to take his army to NorhamCastle on the southern shore of the river Tweed on the very border of Scotland.

A show of force such as you have gathered will put fear in their hearts. I shall join you with mine own army in less than a week.

The king sanded the wet ink, rolled the parchment, melted the sealing wax, and stamped his leopard ring into the soft red wax. As he handed it to the Bishop of Durham's man, he said, "If these Scots forget I am descended from conquerors, they forget at their peril!" As he finished reading the dispatches from the Bishop of Durham, his face began to turn purple. "Call my army commanders to a council meeting!" he ordered John de Warenne.