Infamous

by Virginia Henley

  Jane gave birth to a healthy boy and Jory knew that her brother was the happiest man alive. He was humbled by Jane’s generosity and, because she had given him his heart’s desire, she could do no wrong. Jory worked on Jane with a vengeance, designing a new wardrobe of beautiful gowns to show off her newly slim figure, and advising her to un-plait her lovely red hair so that the long curly tendrils fell to her waist.

  “During the upcoming New Year’s celebrations you must exercise your newfound power as chatelaine of Dumfries. Let him see your fine hand in everything. Lynx will see you through new eyes and will not be able to resist you. Men want what they cannot have. Refuse him and he will turn over heaven and earth to get you.”

  The Bruces arrived from Lochmaben loaded down with presents and a determination to indulge in festive fun and games. Nigel appointed himself Lord of Misrule and mayhem ensued for an entire twelve days and nights.

  Jory watched Lynx become enamored of Jane right before her eyes. The pair became intimate again and it was obvious to all at Dumfries that Lynx de Warenne was falling in love for the first time in his life.

  Jory too was filled with happiness. She savored every moment of Robert’s long, ardent wooing and knew without doubt that the time she’d spent at Dumfries had been the most joyful of her life.

  At the end of January the castle and townspeople gathered to christen the baby in Dumfries’s chapel. Robert and Jory stood as godparents and the name Jane chose was Lincoln Robert de Warenne.

  After the baptism, the Bruces departed for Lochmaben. Lynx watched Jory dash away a tear and slipped his arm about her. “Don’t wish for his child. It would be disastrous. The scandal would ruin you and bring shame on the de Warennes.”

  Her eyes widened. “We’ve been so careful. How did you know?”

  “There’s little about the Bruce that I don’t know. He’ll not wed you, Jory. His driving ambition to be King of Scotland stands in the way. The people would never accept an English queen.”

  “You’re speaking of the future. I live for today; I’m not greedy enough to want tomorrow also.” Though her words were deliberately light, her heart was suddenly heavy. That night she studied her reflection in her mirror. I don’t want him to marry me! Being a widow suits me far better than being a wife. I want things to remain exactly as they are between us. She stared defiantly at her reflection. I could make him wed me if I chose—he is madly in love with me! She believed it with all her heart.

  In February, a Scot called William Wallace started a rebellion and John de Warenne summoned Lynx and Robert Bruce to Edinburgh. Bruce, incensed that Edward had freed Comyn, ignored the summons.

  “The king has ordered me to reassemble the army. We are to sweep through the Lowlands from the Border to the Firth of Forth. He wants this rebellion nipped in the bud and he wants Wallace.”

  Lynx sent Bruce a message telling him the king was testing his allegiance. If he refused, his English estates would be forfeit.

  Bruce brought five hundred from Annandale and pledged another thousand from Carrick. “I would have ignored the call if you hadn’t warned me. My spies tell me Comyn is in league with Wallace. Once Edward sails to France, all hell will break loose.”

  By the end of March, de Warenne, Bruce, and Cressingham had marched through the entire Border region. Treasurer Cressingham became adamant that the exercise was wasting the Crown’s money and sent reports to the king that the back of the Scots resistance had been broken. As a result, Edward Plantagenet sailed for France in April and left the governing of Scotland to John de Warenne.

  Just as Bruce had predicted, William Wallace joined with Comyn and the clan of William Douglas. The Scots marched on the sacred town of Scone and took it back from the hated English.

  John de Warenne ordered Lynx to march on Scone and retake it, and the Bruce agreed to secure the surrender of William Douglas.

  Outside Scone, at a strategic place called Irvine, Lynx de Warenne prepared his men for battle. At dawn he led the charge as always and by dusk his army had won victory for the English and defeated the enemy, but not without a horrendous cost. His lieutenants found Lynx de Warenne on the battlefield close to death. He had sustained a massive belly wound and his lifeblood was almost drained away. Even his Welsh bowmen who practiced healing arts feared they would lose the race with death before they could get him home to Dumfries.

  When Jory saw them bring her brother in on the litter, she was in despair. On the journey home the flesh had melted from his body and he was emaciated. It stirred graphic memories of Humphrey and convinced her that Lynx’s wound would prove fatal.

  Jane, strangely calm, looked at her husband’s wound without flinching, then firmly took over as chatelaine of Dumfries. “Carry him to our chamber in the master tower. Fetch the priest quickly.” Under her watchful instructions they lifted him onto his own bed. Jane took her beloved’s hand and nodded at the priest. Solemnly he began to give Lynx de Warenne the last rites.

  “What in the name of God are you doing? I sent for you to marry us. Get on with it; he is in agony.”

  The priest began the Solemnization of Matrimony. “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Lynx’s green eyes glittered and all agreed that he nodded.

  The priest then repeated the vows for Jane, adding, “Wilt thou obey him and serve him?”

  “I will,” she vowed solemnly, and her father stepped forward to give his daughter to Lynx de Warenne.

  Jory, who had been hovering tearfully at the door, stepped into the chamber. “I will plight my brother’s troth.” She placed her hand on Jane’s, which in turn covered Lynx’s, and said the words that bound them together as husband and wife.

  Jane, who had an abundant knowledge of herbs and their healing powers, seldom left her husband’s side in the weeks that followed. She had other Celtic powers, including the ability to take away pain, and though his life hung by a thread she believed that if she loved Lynx enough, she would save his life.

  His punctured bowel stank with putrefaction, but with the use of strong herbs and meticulously clean dressings it slowly began to heal. The problem was that Lynx could keep nothing in his stomach and the total lack of nourishment threatened his life.

  Jane solved this by tenderly feeding him her breast milk and finally the danger passed and Lynx began to regain his strength.

  The Bruces came to Dumfries, overjoyed that Lynx had cheated death and that his fighting strength was steadily being restored.

  After the Bruces’ visit, Jane told Lynx of a dreamlike vision she’d had about Robert. “I saw him surrounded by a brilliant light with a golden crown upon his head.”

  “Bruce is the rightful King of Scotland, Jane. I won’t oppose his bid for the throne, but he’ll need more than my cooperation.”

  “But the lady beside him was not your sister, Jory—it was young Elizabeth de Burgh!”

  Lynx laughed. “If Robert could get the power of the Earl of Ulster behind him, he’d soon be wearing the Crown of Scotland.”

  Jory could see that the bond between Jane and Lynx strengthened with each passing day and night. Jane had become a part of him, wife, lover, friend, nurse, and his trust in her was absolute. Jory lay abed, remembering that Jane had once said she wanted what Robert and she had. What we have pales beside the selfless love and adoration these two now share. Jory could not help but wish that Robert loved her with his whole heart. “I once teased him that I was his obsession,” she whispered into her pillow, “but I was wrong. The Crown of Scotland is his obsession. I fear I will never hold first place in his affection. Perhaps he doesn’t truly love me. Perhaps all he feels for me is lust, pure and simple.”

  Jory felt deeply conflicted. Part of her wanted to believe that Robert Bruce loved her, but the other part was filled with questions and doubts and fears.

&
nbsp; The Bruce visits continued throughout the summer months as Lynx gradually regained his fighting strength.

  “The news from John de Warenne is all bad. His forces lost Stirling to Wallace and Comyn, and Treasurer Cressingham was killed. The king signed a hasty peace treaty with France and has returned to organize his army to reconquer Scotland. He has the levies of Warwick, Bohun, and Ulster’s Irishmen,” Lynx told Robert.

  “When the army moves north of Edinburgh, it will find only blackened fields and burned farms. Edward’s soldiers will find no food, nor fodder for their horses. My country is being torn asunder by both the English and the Scots,” Bruce said bitterly.

  “Poor Robert, you wish the English out of your country completely, do you not?” Jory asked with heartfelt sympathy.

  “In truth I do,” Robert acknowledged.

  “What about the Irish?” Elizabeth de Burgh asked with a blush. It was plain to all that she hero-worshiped the Bruce.

  Robert ruffled the young girl’s hair. “The Scots hate only the English, not the Irish. We share Celtic blood.”

  “Elizabeth is excited because her father will be accompanying the king,” Jane said. “We should invite him to Dumfries.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to house some of Edward’s forces at my castles if I hope to keep them in my possession,” Robert said.

  When Lynx took the Bruce to the armory, Jory and Elizabeth rushed to their chambers to don prettier gowns. Jane followed Jory. “I cannot bear the thought of Lynx going to battle again.”

  “Darling, never let him know you are afraid for him. Let him think he is omnipotent. It frightens me out of my wits that Robert will someday make a bid for the Scottish Crown. But he believes it’s his destiny and because I love him, so I must too.”

  “Do you want to become his queen?”

  “I would love it, but that is impossible. Though I hate to admit the truth, the Scots would never accept an English queen.”

  “Yet you still want him to become king?”

  “Yes! I’d do anything to help him achieve his goal.”

  “Do you love him enough to make a great sacrifice? With the Earl of Ulster’s power behind him he could gain the throne. If Robert offered to betroth de Burgh’s daughter Elizabeth and make her his queen, it would induce Ulster to help Robert become king.”

  Marjory’s eyes widened with shock and the blood drained from her face so quickly, she looked as waxy as a corpse.

  During the evening meal she was unusually silent and pensive and the candlelight showed dark smudges beneath her eyes. Hours later as Robert lay spent, cradling Jory, he remarked on her mood.

  “You are as ferocious as a tigress tonight.”

  “’Tis the fear of losing you,” she confessed.

  “I’m needed to patrol the marches against Wallace’s raiding parties. I likely won’t be fighting any battles.”

  “I’m not talking of losing you in battle.” She took a deep breath and dared say the words. “You know our parting is inevitable.” Please deny it! Please tell me you cannot bear to part with me, now or ever, Robert.

  He looked into her eyes. “You’ve never had trouble before embracing the present and pushing away the future.”

  Tell him, Jory. See if he’s willing to push away the future. “There is a way to speed your bid for the Crown,” she said intensely, “if you induce the Earl of Ulster to back you.”

  “De Burgh owns half of Ireland. What could I offer him?”

  Once he hears the words, you won’t be able to take them back. Jory’s heart constricted, but something inside drove her. She had to know what choice he would make. “You could offer to make his daughter your queen. It’s an offer few fathers would refuse.”

  “Enough!” He covered her mouth with a silencing kiss.

  Jory’s heart soared. He wants no part of it! Robert loves me too deeply to sacrifice me, even for the throne of Scotland. “You won’t even think about it?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Jory, my heart, you know me well enough to know that I will think of little else.”

  She gave him a radiant smile, then bit her lip. It prevented the scream that was building in her throat from escaping.

  Edward Plantagenet received a message that Wallace’s army was encamped at Falkirk and ordered his commanders to march. On the first night out, as the king slept on the ground, his horse rolled on him and crushed some ribs. He tried to carry on but saw that the Bruce’s report of blackened fields was correct and there was no fodder for the horses. John de Warenne came down with ague, coughing up his lungs and Edward knew that both his own and his general’s health were failing. He ordered the Earl of Warwick and his men to Falkirk and withdrew to Carlisle on the English Border.

  Warwick arrived at Falkirk and joined his forces with those of Bigod and Bohun. Wallace’s Scottish army of schiltrons with their long spears and Comyn’s cavalry awaited them on the field. The moss was wide and dank and the Scots had chosen this place so that the impact of the English cavalry would be lessened.

  Retreat and cover were not in Warwick’s vocabulary. His men were under orders to wear their armor at all times. He led the charge at full gallop to rout and trample the enemy. His heavy, steel-mounted attack was too much for the cowardly Comyn and his Scots cavalry melted away. The thousands of schiltrons, however, stood firm.

  Guy heard the arrows of his Welsh bowmen whistle through the air and thunk into soft flesh. His nostrils were filled with the hot metallic stink of blood and sweat and vomit and panic. He closed his ears to the moans and screams of the dying on the battlefield and fought on fiercely, savagely, until his sword arm was numb and his voice rough and gravelly from shouting orders.

  When the light began to fade from the day and the battle ended, ten thousand Scots lay dead on the moss and Warwick knew he had dealt the enemy a fatal blow. The land behind the hillside at Falkirk was heavily wooded and the beaten Scots who were still alive fled. Warwick knew he would not pursue them; the slaughter sickened him. He dismounted and began to search the blood-soaked field for his own men. He would leave no man behind, wounded or dead.

  At the end of the month Robert Bruce rode into Dumfries with news. “The Earl of Warwick saved the day and won the Battle of Falkirk. Wallace escaped, but Comyn betrayed him and turned him over to the English. Edward has taken him to London for trial.”

  “So your enemy Comyn is once again enjoying royal favor.”

  “Not so. Baliol died recently and Comyn is claiming all his possessions. So we are both out of favor at the same time.”

  “Mayhap the time is ripe to make your move,” Lynx said quietly.

  “If I take up arms against the king, will you oppose me?”

  Lynx shook his head. “I am returning to my lands in England. John is upstairs in bed with an ague. He asked Edward to appoint a board of commissioners to govern Scotland—one man cannot do it. John and I know the Scots will never accept English rule.”

  Jory, who had been tending her uncle, came downstairs. She searched Robert’s face, wondering if he had reached a decision.

  “I cannot stay. Will you see me out, Jory?”

  She courageously swallowed her fear and smiled with delight.

  In the stables, she told him that Lynx was making plans to return to England. She held her breath, daring to hope he’d vow that he could not live without her and beg her to stay.

  He wrapped his arms about her and held her enfolded against him for long minutes. Then he reached into his doublet. “Will you give this letter to Elizabeth? It is from her father.”

  He has chosen the path of destiny! He has betrayed me—not for another woman, but for Scotland. “Go with God, Robert.”

  With a brave face she returned to the castle and found Elizabeth with Jane. She delivered the letter quickly.

  When Elizabeth read its contents, she was ecstatic. “My father is visiting the Bruces at Lochmaben in a sennight and wants me to join him there.” Her cheeks blushed a pretty pink. “Oh, I
will need a new dress,” she said breathlessly.

  “You must have more than one new gown,” Jory insisted. “Don’t forget that Robert Bruce is Scotland’s most eligible bachelor.”

  When the young girl ran off to find her serving women, Jane looked at Jory with shining eyes. “How selfless and generous you are. I don’t think I’d have had the courage to do it.”

  “Nonsense. I learned courage from your glorious example.”

  A week after Elizabeth de Burgh left to visit Lochmaben, she sent Marjory a note to tell all her exciting news.

  The Earl of Carrick asked my father for my hand in marriage and in a midnight ceremony, Robert Bruce plighted his troth to me. I am returning with my father to Ireland tomorrow for a quick visit. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and can never thank you enough for your generous friendship.

  Elizabeth, Countess of Carrick

  Jory managed to maintain a calm facade even when she passed along the fateful news to Jane and Lynx at dinner. Her face was serene and her manner unruffled as she bade them good night. Once she reached the privacy of her own chamber, however, she flung herself on her bed and the floodgates opened, drenching her pillow with the heartbreaking tears of what might have been.

  It was a large undertaking for the de Warennes to vacate Dumfries and return to England, so they planned it in stages. When John was well enough to travel, he left first with his men. A few days later, the Welsh foot soldiers began their long trek back to England, and the next day Lynx took his sister aside.

  “Jane is having another child, so I think it best to put her and our son on a ship in the Solway that will take them to Chester. I know you’re capable of riding and keeping up with my knights, but I want you to go with them and watch over Jane.”

  “She told me her wonderful news about the baby. You’re right. It will be less rigorous to go by ship. Don’t worry about Jane. I’m a wonderful sailor; I’ll take good care of her.”