A Year & a Day

by Virginia Henley

  Finally, when he was private with his sister, Lynx told her about the handfasting.

  Jory exclaimed with delight, “At last, you are in love!”

  “Splendor of God, of course I’m not in love. Jane Leslie and I hardly know each other. Two days after the ceremony, the king recalled me to the army, and by the time I return to Dumfries I’ll have been away six months.”

  “You must be highly attracted to her; why else would you take a steward’s daughter to your bed?”

  “To get her with child, of course. If she conceives, I intend to wed her.”

  “There is something in de Warenne blood that makes us enjoy flaunting convention,” Jory said lightly.

  “What the devil have you done now?” he demanded.

  “Me? Tis you who will raise eyebrows, wedding beneath your station!”

  “When I told Robert Bruce and John, their eyebrows stayed in place; as for the rest, I don’t give a damn. It’s my life.”

  “And when you told Alicia?”

  The muscles in his jaw clenched. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with her; she’s my mistress, for God’s sake.”

  Marjory momentarily closed her eyes in prayer. I ask only one thing: please let me be there when Alice Bolton finds out!

  The month of September and half of October passed before the last name was recorded on the Ragman Roll and it was time for Edward Plantagenet to announce those who had been chosen to rule Scotland in his name. A hush fell over the crowded hall as the king named the three key officials he had appointed. John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, was named governor, and William Ormsby, the English High Court official, was named chief justiciar.

  The murmurs of approval abruptly died when the third name was announced. The king appointed Hugh de Cressingham as treasurer. Both English and Scots despised this self-serving political upstart. Rumors were already flying that he had appropriated the money for rebuilding Berwick to his own use.

  That evening, John de Warenne’s chambers were thronged with well-wishers as well as those who wished to curry favor with him. Fitz-Waren suddenly found himself being fawned upon now that his father was the Governor of Scotland, and his natural cupidity sprang to the fore. Fitz quickly realized that he could make himself a fortune. The idea of becoming filthy rich appealed to his greed, but not quite as much as did the power he would wield. He stroked the brow over his drooping eyelid and contemplated just what post he would request from his all-powerful father.

  Lynx de Warenne drank a toast to his uncle’s appointment as governor and to Robert Bruce’s lordship of Annandale.

  “Christ, you could have heard a cockroach fart in the hush that fell when Cressingham’s name was announced,” Bruce said.

  “Making him treasurer was a grave mistake. Edward should have appointed at least one Scottish noble as viceroy. Mark my words, his choice will come back to haunt him,” Lynx predicted.

  “He thinks Scotland crushed, but by ramming home his power, he arouses a determination to rise and fight.” Robert winked to temper his words. “Well, at least in me he does.”

  “God’s teeth, cease this talk of fighting. Let us enjoy our castles in peace, at least through the winter.”

  “Let’s see, it’s mid-October—five months to the end of winter. I’ll lay ye odds the Scots can’t keep the peace that long!”

  “I’ll take that wager, but only because most Scots nobles will be out of the country. Edward has offered freedom to some of the men captured at Dunbar if they take up arms for England in the invasion of France.”

  “Just so long as he keeps my enemy Comyn locked up, I’ll be happy.”

  When the chambers emptied and the Bruce sought his east-tower room, John de Warenne had a nightcap with his nephew. “As governor, I willingly grant you lordship of Dumfries, Lynx, but there is a small string attached. It goes without saying you will keep an eye on our friend Robert’s activities.”

  14

  As Lynx de Warenne and his men neared Dumfries, his spirits lifted. The Scottish border country was even more beautiful in the autumn than it had been in the spring when he had left. He had given his knights and Welsh bowmen their free choice. Some had decided to go to France with the king, a few had chosen to return home to Wales, but the vast majority of his knights and bowmen remained at his side.

  It was a good thing Dumfries Castle was large and his steward, Jock Leslie, efficient. Housing such a horde should present no problem, though feeding them through the winter might present difficulties. Lynx’s thoughts progressed from Jock Leslie to the man’s daughter. His hand closed over the touchstone Jane had painted. When he left Dumfries he recalled that he had been riding a full hour before he’d discovered the Celtic talisman.

  His first instinct had been to remove it. He was not superstitious, that was for the ignorant masses. A stone dangling about a man’s neck would not keep him safe; only superior fighting skills could do that. Jane Leslie must have slipped her touchstone over his head while he slept, thinking it would protect him. He glanced down at it now and knew he had not kept it about his neck because the young girl had put it there. He wore it because the lynx had taken his fancy.

  He grimaced. He must stop thinking of her as “the young girl.” She was Jane, the lady he hoped would give him a child; the lady who just might become his wife and the future Countess of Surrey. Lynx shook his head; try as he might, he could not picture Jane Leslie as a countess. She had been allowed to be wild and free and was unlike most other women. De Warenne was a man who seldom doubted himself. He did not regret the handfasting, yet in hindsight, he was not convinced of the wisdom of it.

  A female cry of distress brought Lynx back from his reverie. He wheeled his destrier and rode back down the line. His friend Robert Bruce, also riding to Annandale, did likewise. Both had immediately recognized Jory’s voice.

  “My palfrey has gone lame … she must have picked up a stone!”

  Lynx dismounted and aided Jory from her saddle. He lifted the mare’s hooves and examined them carefully. “If she did, it’s gone now. We are only about two miles from Dumfries, I think she’ll hold out.”

  “Oh no, Sheba is most dear to me, I shan’t ride her while she is lame.”

  “Marjory, for pity’s sake, don’t delay us now we are almost there,” Alicia urged irritably.

  “Lady Marjory may ride with me,” the Bruce offered politely.

  Lynx gave his friend a quelling glance and lifted his sister onto his own saddle, then mounted behind her. When Lynx’s squire Thomas took Sheba’s reins, Jory rewarded him with a grateful smile.

  Robert Bruce winked at his friend. “Delays are inevitable if you are foolish enough to travel with women.”

  “Some women would try the patience of a saint,” Lynx responded with a grin.

  “And some men are so full of themselves, they need to be taken down from their high horses,” Jory said sweetly.

  “She must mean you,” Robert quipped. “Englishmen are noted for their arrogance.”

  “They are second only to the Scots, which never ceases to amaze me, since they have so little about which to be arrogant!”

  Lynx laughed at his sister’s wit, then glanced at Alice Bolton. In the beginning she had been as amusing as she had been beautiful. Lately, however, she seemed devoid of humor. He felt it would be heartless to dismiss her and hoped that sooner or later she would tire of their arrangement.

  As Dumfries came into view, Lynx again galloped down the line. Jory put her fingers in her ears as her brother bellowed out orders. “Assemble in the bailey. The steward will need a head count and a horse count. Take the supply wagons to the far end and begin unloading immediately. Use the river Nith to bathe.”

  “Must I bathe with your men?” Jory’s eyes were alight with mischief.

  “Not you, Minx, though I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  Robert Bruce reined in beside the pair mounted on the black destrier. “We are for Lochmaben, so I’ll bid you adieu. I’ll ride o
ver in a couple of days when you’re settled in.”

  “Bring your brothers,” Lynx invited. “My castle is your home.”

  “It will be one day, my friend,” the Bruce said, laughing, though Lynx knew he was deadly serious. “Lady Alicia, Lady Marjory.” Robert Bruce saluted them with equal gallantry, then his men rode off toward the valley.

  As they clattered into Dumfries’ bailey, Lynx dismounted and lifted down Jory. “Take your palfrey to the stables. A lad named Keith will tend her for you. You can’t miss him, his hair is the color of a torch.”

  Jane Leslie was in the loft above the stables trying to soothe the falcons and other hunting birds that had inexplicably set up a racket since before dawn. At the thunder of hooves, she ran to the narrow aperture and saw the horde of cavalry and foot soldiers. Lynx had returned! This was the reason the raptors were restive. They had known before any human that a multitude of men approached.

  Jane’s hands flew to her belly. She stood transfixed, her feet rooted to the plank floor, her pulse beating so rapidly from a mixture of excitement and fear that she thought she would faint. Sometimes she wondered how she had had the temerity to go to his bed!

  Now, after half a year, he was here and she knew that after such a lengthy time apart, he would be like a stranger and she would have to summon her courage to face it all again! One small part of her wanted to run to him and give him the news of his child, but her shyness made that impossible in front of four hundred men.

  Suddenly, the babe she carried quickened, and a cry escaped her surprised lips. Jane wrapped her arms about her belly and sank onto a wooden bench to catch her breath. She sat very still, half expecting her precious burden to turn a somersault, but all movement ceased, and after about five minutes, Jane stood up on shaky legs and descended from the mews into the stables.

  Her brother Keith was deep in conversation with the most beautiful female Jane had ever seen. Her hair was the color of moonlight and her clothes were exquisite. She wore an underdress and tunic for riding in a deep shade of amber embroidered with golden thread.

  Keith’s head shot up as Jane appoached. “My sister will be able to help, lady. She has the healing touch.”

  Jane felt the impact of imploring green eyes, exactly the shade of Lord de Warenne’s. “She went lame about two miles back, but she doesn’t seem to have picked up a stone.”

  Jane ran her hand down the palfrey’s flank and the little black horse whickered as if in greeting.

  “Sheba likes you,” Jory declared.

  “All animals respond to ma sister, lady. She has a special gift.”

  Jane saw the lady’s eyes roam over her with curiosity, resting on her rounded belly for a brief second. Then she looked into her eyes. The two young women smiled at each other. Then Jane crouched down and began with featherlike strokes to massage the mare’s leg, gradually increasing the pressure of her fingers until she was kneading it. When she straightened up, Keith walked Sheba across the stable floor and Jory saw that the limp had vanished.

  “You healed her!” Jory cried.

  “No, my lady, I only took away her pain. She has traveled too far … she needs rest.”

  Jory took hold of the girl’s hands. “I thank you with all my heart.”

  Keith said, “I’ll put her in a box stall, away from the other horses, lady.”

  “Thank you both. I’ll be back later to check on her.”

  Jane stared after the ethereal-looking female as she ran lightly from the stables. “She is the lord’s sister. Did you see her green eyes?”

  Keith nodded. “I could even see her aura; she exudes vitality. Father will need me to find a place for all the horses.” He paused on his way outside. “I told ye he’d come back, Jane. Have ye seen him yet?”

  Jane shook her head and slowly followed him to the stable doors. Her eyes found Lynx de Warenne immediately among the hundreds of men. Mounted on the huge coal-black destrier, clad from head to booted foot in dominant black, shouting orders, he was easily the most overpowering figure of authority she had ever seen.

  Panic rose up within her. With his having been away for months, she couldn’t help but feel he was a total stranger; a frightening stranger! Her hand crept up to her tightly braided hair, then she glanced down at her clothes. She had put on the plainest gown she owned to tend the hawks in the mews. Suddenly she remembered that she had sent her bed-curtains to the castle laundry to be washed. Wasn’t it just like a man to return when she was least prepared for him? She decided to slip around to a rear entrance of the castle and get her bed-curtains from the laundry before she was noticed.

  * * *

  Jory and Alicia were greeted by a strapping dark Scot who welcomed them to Dumfries. Jory gave him a quizzical glance from beneath her lashes and offered him her hand. He did not take it to his lips, but shook it heartily. “Ladies, it is my pleasant duty tae accommodate you.”

  Jory bit back a spicy retort and said, “You are far too young to be Jock Leslie.”

  “I’m his son Andrew, the second steward.”

  “Ah, I’ve been told by my brother the Leslies are worth their weight in gold.”

  “And your brother is …?” Andrew flushed with pleasure.

  “Her brother is Lynx de Warenne, lord of this castle,” Alicia interjected. “We would like the best chambers that Dumfries has to offer.”

  Jory bit her lip. Alice Bolton hadn’t the faintest notion that she was addressing the brother of the lady whom Lynx had handfasted … in fact she hadn’t the least notion that Lynx even was handfasted. She is in for a very nasty shock, Jory thought with glee. “If you can possibly manage it, I’d like my chamber to be as private as possible.” When Robert visited her, they would need seclusion.

  “And I will need chambers close to my lord,” Alicia declared, managing to sound both arch and coy at the same time. The implication was unmistakable.

  Jory saw Andrew Leslie’s dark brows draw into a frown as it dawned on him that Lord de Warenne had brought his whore to Dumfries. Lord in heaven, would he run straight to his sister with the news? She and Alicia had scarcely set foot in the castle, yet trouble was already brewing! Jory knew she must distance herself from Alice Bolton.

  “I notice Dumfries has lovely towers, Andrew. Would it be possible for me to have a tower room?” She spoke to him as if he were the most important man on earth and was relieved to see that she had diverted him, at least temporarily. He escorted her to the Lady Tower, for which Jory thanked him most sincerely. Then watched with worried eyes as he stiffly led Alicia away to “accommodate” her.

  Lynx de Warenne ran a hand through his mane of hair and stretched his shoulder muscles. He was well pleased with his steward’s efficiency. In less than three hours, the supply wagons had been unloaded, the fodder stored, their armor and weapons hung in the armory, the horses put out to pasture, and every last man in his mesne given suitable lodging.

  “Well done, Jock. The only question that remains is will you be able to feed us all?”

  “The kitchens are hives of activity, my lord, but we will need a few more cooks,” Jock replied with understatement.

  “Feel free to recruit my Welshmen. They’re not used to being idle and they have healthy appetites. Every man will earn his keep one way or another.” Lynx started toward the river.

  “We may not have enough hot water for all yer men to bathe, but we certainly have enough fer you, Lord de Warenne.”

  Lynx waved his hand dismissively. “A quick swim in the Nith will suffice, Jock. My sister has likely already used every last drop of hot bathwater in all of Dumfries.”

  When Lynx finally entered the castle, Alicia met him with a catalogue of complaints.

  “Some dour-faced idiot has given me the wrong rooms. Then your stupid squire has compounded the error by carrying my trunks up there instead of to the chamber that adjoins yours, as I instructed him to do! In fact, every order I’ve issued at Dumfries has been ignored!”

  “Then I
suggest you stop issuing them,” Lynx said bluntly.

  “Oh! You delight in abusing me!”

  Calmly, Lynx put his hands to her waist and lifted her from his path. “Alicia, use the chamber assigned to you tonight.”

  “I want you to tell the castle servants who I am!” she insisted.

  “Did it ever occur to you to be just a tad discreet?”

  Alicia was speechless at the suggestion. His uncle was the Governor of all Scotland. Surely Lynx de Warenne must realize how important he was and, as his chosen lady, how important she was?

  Lynx spotted his squire Taffy. “Excuse me, madam, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” Putting distance between himself and Alicia, he muttered, “Bloody women! What problems has your charge created during my absence?” Lynx demanded of Taffy.

  “None whatsoever, my lord. Lady Jane is no trouble at all. She is the least demanding lady I ever served. She already knew how to ride a pony, but I found her a well-bred mare as you instructed and I am sure you will be pleased with the way she handles the animal … she outrides me, now.”

  “An undemanding woman?” His mouth curved in amusement. “There’s a unique concept. Sorry to put an end to your tranquil existence, but Jory and Alicia are here.”

  “Yes, my lord, I carried up their baggage.”

  “You poor sod, you must have the stamina of an ox.”

  Taffy grinned. “It’s good to have you back, my lord. I even missed Thomas.”

  Lynx couldn’t help but laugh. “For God’s sake don’t tell him, he’s insufferable enough.”

  “I’ve unpacked for you, my lord, and laid out fresh clothes.”

  “Thanks; I bathed in the river with the men. I’ll see you in the hall.” Lynx climbed the stairs to the Master Tower. He entered one of the chambers beneath his that belonged to Jane. It was empty, so without pause, he went up to his own rooms. He looked about him with satisfaction as he removed his soiled clothes. It felt good to be back at Dumfries. He knew he had made the right choice, picking Scotland over France.