A Year & a Day

by Virginia Henley

  Jane jumped to her feet. “I must prepare a bath for the justiciar.”

  Lynx took her arm and gently forced her to sit down again. “You are not bathing the fat swine.”

  Jory began to laugh. “Oh please, allow me to bathe him. I’m simply dying to see what he looks like unclothed.”

  “Jory, you have a damned perverted sense of humor,” her brother declared bluntly.

  When Ormsby was greeted by Lynx de Warenne he showed his surprise. “Rumor has it you fell on the battlefield at Irvine!”

  “I did, but I am making a rapid recovery.”

  “I owe the de Warennes a debt of gratitude. If the governor had not sent Fitz-Waren to warn me of the impending attack on Scone, I would not have escaped with my life.”

  “Be sure to inform the governor of your gratitude, William. I am sure he will give all the credit to Fitz-Waren,” Lynx said dryly. “My steward, Jock Leslie, has had chambers plenished for you, and when you have bathed, dinner awaits you in Dumfries’ hall.”

  By the time Ormsby and his senior knights were seated in the hall, Robert Bruce had ridden the eight miles from Lochmaben. The justiciar bristled at the Bruce’s arrival. “Have you not been summoned by the governor?”

  “Not yet, I haven’t, but he knows my men are spread out keeping the peace all the way up to the Forth.”

  “The governor appointed Brace Sheriff of Lanark,” Lynx explained.

  “I’ve been expecting trouble north of the Forth,” the Brace declared.

  “Why?” Ormsby demanded suspiciously.

  “Use the brains God gave you, man. When Andrew de Moray started the rebellion in the Highlands, the king sent Comyn to hold him in check. Comyn, for Christ’s sake, is a bigger threat than de Moray. The two of them are allies by now and it is inevitable they’ll join Wallace.”

  “Wallace is a monster! He tried to seize me at Scone. He’d do anything to get his hands on me or the governor, so he could bargain with the king.”

  A sudden wave of fear for John de Warenne washed over Lynx. “All the Scots who lost their clan leaders at Irvine will flock to Wallace. I’m coming with you,” he informed Ormsby.

  “The governor will have enough without you. Cressingham has been summoned from Berwick and Percy from Roxburgh,” Ormsby declared.

  “You’re not fighting fit yet,” the Bruce said bluntly.

  “It’s true, I don’t have my former strength back yet, but I’ll manage and there’s nothing wrong with my men.” Lynx signaled Thomas, Taffy, and Montgomery and issued his orders.

  Lynx waited until they were abed before he told Jane that he was taking his men to Edinburgh. Jane was appalled, but she loved him too much to point out his weakness. Lynx had worked so hard to regain his strength and rebuild his muscles, and he had accomplished much, but he was still lean as a hound, and not yet the invincible man of iron he had been before his close brush with death.

  When Jane made no protest, Lynx knew she was keeping quiet to save his pride and he loved her all the more for it. “I don’t want you to worry about me, love. No power on earth will keep me from returning to you.” She had a magic quality. “You hold me in your spell.” She was at once sensual and pure. It was as if the music of her siren song were inside his soul, telling him what to do, and he obeyed; he had no choice.

  Lynx brushed back the red-gold tendrils from her temples, then traced her brow and slanting cheekbone with a finger. Everything about her fascinated and enthralled him. Lynx drew her into his arms and devoured her with kisses.

  * * *

  “I am taking the army all the way to Stirling and you are returning to Dumfries. That is an order,” John de Warenne told Lynx flatly.

  “Are you saying I’m unfit to lead my men?” Lynx challenged angrily.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Swallow your towering pride and go home!”

  “You think yourself more fit than I? You’re in your sixties, for Christ’s sake,” Lynx shouted, revealing his fear for his uncle.

  “I do not physically fight these days, I issue the orders, and I order you to Dumfries.” John saw the stubborn set of Lynx’s jaw. “My boy, there likely won’t be any fighting. I’ll offer them terms and persuade them to give up the struggle. I have a force of forty thousand. The best service you can render me is to regain your full fighting strength. It may well be needed in the not too distant future.”

  Reluctantly, Lynx capitulated. Becoming a liability to his men in battle would be more than he could live with. A picture of Jane rose up before him and he knew how relieved she would be when she saw his mesne ride into Dumfries’ bailey. Before he left Edinburgh, Lynx went to a goldsmith’s shop to buy her a wedding ring. He chose a wide band decorated with a Celtic knotwork pattern, representing a continuity of life and love with no beginning and no end.

  That night, alone in his bed, he found it almost impossible to sleep without her. He tossed and turned for hours until an idea floated to him from some sacred, mystical place. When he returned he would take her to the chapel and marry her again. This time he would pledge his own vows. Once his decision was taken, Lynx fell into a deep and dream-filled sleep.

  At Dumfries a nightmare awaited him. The moment Lynx entered the stable and saw Keith Leslie’s face, he braced himself for bad news.

  “St. Bride in her mercy must have returned you, my lord.”

  “What is it?” Lynx demanded.

  “Come with me to my father. He has a message for you.” Lynx followed him to the castle, impatient that the lad would not spit out what was amiss. When he entered the hall, the first person he saw was Jory.

  “God be praised!” she cried. “I was on my way to Edinburgh to find you. The Bruce has gone back to Lanark and I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Lynx demanded. He raised his eyes to the stairs where Grace Murray stood holding his son while tears streamed down her face. “Splendor of God, it’s Jane!” he growled. “Where is she?”

  “We don’t know!” Jory cried helplessly.

  Jock appeared with a paper in his hand and automatically Lynx and his squires followed the steward into the small room off the hall, where Marjory and Keith Leslie joined them. Lynx reached out and took the parchment from a gray-faced Jock.

  Turn John de Warenne over to William Wallace and your wife will be returned unharmed.

  “Christ!” Lynx muttered, raking a frustrated hand through his hair as the blood drained from his face. “Put a guard on my son,” he ordered Thomas. “Who delivered this message?”

  Jock shook his head in dismay. “It could only have been the shepherds who knew Ben and Sim.”

  Lynx smashed his fist on the table. “I should have hanged them! Montgomery! Find Ben and Sim Leslie … I want them arrested immediately.”

  Jock said shortly, “I have them secure in the dungeon below, my lord.”

  “Fetch them up,” Lynx said grimly. “Jory, you’d best leave us.”

  Marjory opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Clearly, if Lynx did not get answers he was going to commit violence.

  When the Leslie brothers came into the room, Lynx fixed them with an icy green glare, then he removed a mailed gauntlet from his weapons belt and laid it on the table before them. “You have something to tell me.” It was not a question.

  Both brothers spoke up at once, looked shamefaced, then Ben said, “We’d better start at the beginning.”

  “Yes, you had better,” Lynx stressed.

  “In the Uplands, in the autumn, we heard William Wallace speak. He spoke out for Scotland’s freedom and made us ashamed we served an English master. He pointed out that we lived in slavery and though we were not harshly treated, others were. Most Englishmen are not known for their soft hearts.”

  Sim took up the tale. “Many joined Wallace in rebellion. We did not, but we were in sympathy and let them have a few sheep to keep them from starving. Later on, when the arms went missing from the f
orge, we knew who had taken them. A group of shepherds and homeless men who had been ill-treated banded together to aid Wallace any way they could. Under cover of dark they stole food, arms, anything that wasn’t nailed down. We closed our eyes to the theft and didn’t sound the alarm.”

  Lynx’s face hardened. “The baggage train from Carlisle that was set upon?”

  “I swear we had no knowledge of it,” Ben vowed. “Only now do we realize we should not have talked openly about Dumfries with other shepherds in the dales.”

  “Get to Jane for Christ’s sake!”

  Sim’s voice cracked with emotion as he tried to explain. “Two shepherds we knew sought refuge from their English lord. They swore they had barely escaped a hanging. We hid them in my house because Ben’s wife was ailing and Jane was staying with her. The next morning, Jane was gone and that paper was nailed to the front door of the castle.”

  “That’s all you know? Where did these shepherds come from?”

  “Torthwald, my lord.”

  Lynx closed his eyes to blot out thought of Fitz-Waren, but it only brought his cousin’s menacing image into sharp focus. “Lock them up,” Lynx bid Montgomery. “If one hair on Jane’s head has been harmed, you’ll wish I had hanged you.”

  Lynx de Warenne with a company of thirty knights rode full speed to Torthwald. When they were not admitted immediately, they stormed the castle and hanged the guard on the gate.

  There was only a token number of Fitz-Waren’s men at the castle, left there to guard the treasures taken from the Palace of Scone. It did not take Lynx de Warenne long to make the men talk. They admitted that a red-haired young woman had been brought in by two shepherds, but Fitz-Waren had taken her away two days past. They swore they had had no hand in the kidnapping. They vowed they were cavalry officers loyal to John de Warenne and would never do aught to harm the governor. No amount of torture made them change their story that they had no idea where Fitz-Waren had gone.

  The pain they suffered was naught compared with the agonizing torment Lynx de Warenne endured. Fitz-Waren was evil incarnate and Lynx dreaded what he might do to Jane. His sole hope lay in the fact that she was valuable as a hostage only if they kept her alive.

  De Warenne would not remain under Fitz-Waren’s roof, so they set up camp outside the castle, building fires to cook their food. The horses too needed a rest before the knights set out again on their quest to find William Wallace.

  As Lynx sat staring into the campfire, his food almost untouched, he tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. He hadn’t the faintest idea where William Wallace was hiding. His whereabouts was the closest guarded secret of the common people of Scotland. De Warenne knew he needed an intermediary, but no one came to mind.

  Lynx’s only option seemed to be to rejoin John de Warenne’s army and learn if the governor’s spies knew where Wallace was. Lynx stood up to order his men to break camp, when suddenly an idea came to him. He had always suspected that the Church of Scotland was behind William Wallace. Lynx was willing to bet his sword arm that Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, would have no trouble contacting Wallace.

  At the bishop’s palace in Glasgow, de Warenne left his men in the courtyard while he went inside with only his squires. After half an hour of cooling his heels, Lynx de Warenne grabbed a churchman by his cassock. “Tell Wishart that Lynx de Warenne seeks audience. If he doesn’t show his face now, I’ll torch the place.”

  In a few minutes Robert Wishart entered the room. De Warenne knew any man with enough guts to defy Edward Plantagenet and aid the king’s enemy would not cave in to threats. Without saying a word, de Warenne handed the parchment to the bishop.

  Wishart read what was writ there. “I take it you are the Earl of Surrey’s heir?”

  “I am, and the lady who Wallace holds hostage is my wife.”

  “You want the church to appeal for her return, my lord?”

  De Warenne struck his mailed fist on the carved refectory table, marring it forever. “I want the church to cut out the bullshit!”

  “I have sworn my Oath of Allegiance to King Edward’s peace. I cannot contact William Wallace for you,” Wishart said flatly.

  “But you know someone who can,” de Warenne said cynically.

  The Bishop of Glasgow raised his hands in acquiescence. “Return tomorrow evening, after dark.”

  * * *

  As Lynx de Warenne made his way to the Bishop of Glasgow’s palace, he was amazed that he had gotten through the last twenty-four hours without spilling blood. His temper was in shreds, his gut knotted with sickening fear for Jane, and his patience had all run out.

  With his hand on his dagger, de Warenne followed a black-robed priest through a maze of corridors and entered a chamber dimly lit by a few votive candles. The priest vanished and de Warenne stared unblinking into the shadows. A brawny figure stepped forward into the light and he found himself face-to-face with the Bruce.

  33

  A foul oath fell from de Warenne’s lips. “Curse you, Robert, why am I not surprised that you are in league with both sides?”

  “Only for Jane would I expose my position like this.”

  “Take me to Wallace tonight. If that scum has harmed her, he’s a dead man!”

  “I’ll see Wallace; I’ll get Jane back. Since you’re not exchanging John de Warenne for her, I’ll have to pay whatever price he asks.”

  “I’ll pay his fucking price, it’ll be more than he ever bargained for! Just take me to him.”

  “You are too incensed. Violence would be the only outcome if you dealt with him yourself.”

  “I’m coming,” Lynx stated implacably.

  “It would put Jane in jeopardy.”

  “She’s already in jeopardy—it was Fitz-Waren who sold her to Wallace!”

  “Then save your retaliation for him,” the Bruce said bluntly. “Lynx, I know you are a facile negotiator, but you can’t handle this one.” The Bruce knew it would take more than money and he didn’t want Lynx to be faced with the moral dilemma of betrayal.

  “Then I’ll just be one of your men. I’ll stay back with the others; no one will recognize me.” When Robert Bruce still looked unconvinced, Lynx added, “I swear I won’t interfere!”

  A sharp baric of laughter fell from the Brace’s lips. “Liar! At the least provocation you’d have a knife at his throat.”

  “Then he’d better not provoke me.”

  “All right then,” Robert agreed against his better judgment. “Just wear leathers, a hauberk, and a helmet. No colors or devices, we can’t ride in flying a Brace banner. Meet me in two hours at the Great Western Road.”

  “I’m not that gullible; I’ll stay with you now.”

  The next two hours were taken up by secretly transferring a cartload of silver bars from a Brace stronghold in Glasgow to the bishop’s palace. Wishart obliged the Bruce with a signed receipt.

  The Brace party of ten rode six miles along the river to Clydebank where they were stopped and asked for a password. When Robert Bruce satisfied Wallace’s men that he represented no threat, they were allowed to proceed toward Dumbarton. Lynx was amazed, since the castle of Dumbarton was governed by the Earl of Montieth, who had sworn his allegiance to King Edward.

  Again they were stopped and made to wait in the predawn darkness. As the first hint of light touched the sky, a lone rider galloped toward the center of an open field, and the Brace, unarmed, was allowed to ride out to meet him.

  “I’ve been expecting ye,” Wallace began.

  “Is the lady unharmed?”

  “Do we get John de Warenne?”

  “That is impossible. Even if he were willing, Lynx de Warenne could not hand you the Governor of Scotland. He is too well guarded.”

  “If I hold his wife, he will find a way,” Wallace stated flatly.

  “If there was any way to seize the governor, don’t you think Fitz-Waren would have found it, instead of stealing a helpless woman?”

  “If ye won’t give me th
e governor, why are ye here?”

  “To negotiate a price … once I’ve seen that the lady is unharmed.” The Bruce did not want Wallace to know Lady Jane held a special place in his heart.

  “What price?”

  “Five thousand pounds sterling.” It was a great deal of money. Enough to buy weapons for a small army.

  “Be serious, man,” Wallace said with contempt.

  “I have information as well as money, but first you must produce the lady so that I know she is unharmed.”

  Pale eyes stared fiercely into dark ones and the Bruce knew he must not be the first to lower his gaze. He decided a threat would not be amiss. “If aught has befallen Jane de Warenne, it is not Edward Plantagenet you must fear.”

  William Wallace turned in the saddle and raised an arm toward the castle. “I’ll bring her out so ye can see for yerself, but then she goes back inside.”

  The Bruce sat waiting in silence, far more worried about the actions of the man behind him than the one before him. Presently, a mounted guard led out a girl on a shaggy pony. Her blazing hair streamed behind her in the early morning breeze. Robert felt a deep pride when he saw the set of her Celtic head. She sat dry-eyed, her back as straight as a ramrod. Jane showed none of the surprise she must be feeling that he had come rather than her husband. Then he saw her gaze travel across the field to where his men sat waiting.

  Jane saw him immediately. No other man sat a horse quite like Lynx de Warenne. Her inner turmoil, so at odds with her outward calm, swirled like a maelstrom. At one and the same time she wanted him close, yet wanted him far removed from this terrible ordeal. Jane felt the helpless impotence he was experiencing watching her, and knew he was only a heartbeat away from spurring his horse to her rescue. Jane knew if she did not look away from him, she would lose total control of her composure.

  She swung her eyes back to Robert just as the morning sun appeared and reflected off his helmet. She felt suddenly strange and dizzy, and when she blinked her eyes she saw that Robert Bruce was wearing a golden crown. Almost immediately, Jane realized she was experiencing a vision. As she stared, she saw that he wore not only a crown, but splendid coronation robes. Robert Bruce was a king! And beside him Jane saw a crowned young woman who was obviously his queen. Jane’s hand went to her head to dispel the queer dizziness and the next thing she knew, her mounted guard was leading her pony back toward Dumbarton Castle.