The Falcon and the Flower

by Virginia Henley

  The first people to arrive were William and Mathilda de Braose. They were fleeing from Hay, their magnificent castle on the Welsh border. King John had ordered his mercenaries to arrest them, and they had gotten away only by the skin of their teeth. They had heard rumors that de Burgh had broken with King John and hoped his strong forces would help them against the king.

  William was a practical man who did not really expect de Burgh to wage war against his King, but he felt reasonably sure that Mountain Ash would harbor them.

  Jasmine made Mathilda rest and provided her with all the things she had been forced to leave behind. They appealed to Estelle to see what she could predict for Mathilda’s future, but for some reason Estelle reminded them that de Burgh had forbidden her to practice her witchcraft or dabble in the occult, and under no circumstances would she flaunt the lord’s wishes. Mathilda quite understood her position, but Jasmine rolled her eyes ceilingward wondering what maggot had gotten into her grandmother’s brain.

  Falcon was frank with William de Braose. Mountain Ash would give them sanctuary, but now that the good weather was upon them, he fully expected Chester’s men or the king’s men—which were virtually the same thing —to ride in any day. Falcon recalled Estelle’s mention of Ireland. The de Braoses had a daughter who was married to Walter de Lacey, who held the lordship of Meath in Ireland. Falcon urged William to seek refuge with them.

  The next visitor to arrive brought an urgent message from William de Burgh in Ireland. Murphy would have stood out in any crowd. He was de Burgh’s top captain, probably well past his prime in years, although no one would have dared suggest such a thing. He stood six-foot-four with flaming red hair, now streaked with silver. He had a craggy face and a thick accent. Falcon and Jasmine could make out what he said if they listened closely, but the Welsh were totally baffled each time he opened his mouth. He had sailed from Wexford in one of many de Burgh vessels that were now anchored in Swansea Bay about twenty miles away.

  Jasmine was totally bemused by Murphy. She had never seen anyone who fit the description of an ogre quite so well, bringing to life for her the mythical figure of tales told her in childhood, yet he was so gentle it was comical. Her heart was in her throat when he picked up her babies and cooed and sang to them, for he held them both in one gigantic arm.

  Falcon closeted himself with Murphy to read the messages his uncle had sent him, but also to pick his brains. He plied him with Welsh liquor, the strongest brew Falcon had ever tasted, yet it went down Murphy’s throat as if it were water.

  Falcon broke the seal on the thick, white parchment and read:

  My trusted Captain Murphy brings greetings to Falcon de Burgh, son of my beloved brother, God rest his soul. I have recourse to ask your aid, but first I must make plain my position. As you know I was Steward to Henry II and as favor for good service he made me the Lord of Connaught. Ostensibly everything west of the River Shannon belongs to the de Burghs. However, what you may not know is that I have never been able to conquer the people and live there. I have always resided in Limerick, and since I was the chief lord of the region, King John made me governor.

  Two Irish kings have fought each other to be King of Connaught, and I freely admit to you that over the years I have joined forces with each to gain Connaught, changing sides like I would change my coat. I deeply regret that last year with a large force gathered from Dublin, Leinster, Limerick, and Munster I joined forces with Cathal Carragh against Cathal Crovderg until he fled north. Then Carragh turned against me, assumed nominal kingship, and harried Connaught ruthlessly into submission. I lost King John’s favor when he decided to be on Crovderg’s side. At this point I changed sides and marched with Crovderg into Connaught. I killed Carragh but I sustained a wound. My soldiers were billeted over three counties of Connaught, namely Sligo, Mayo, and Roscommon. Rumor swept through the clans, or tribes as we call them in Ireland, that my wound had killed me, and the tribes turned on my billeted soldiers as they slept and massacred nine hundred. What are left of Crovderg’s and my own men are holed up at the fortified monastery of Boyle. De Burghs by royal decree own over a fifth of Ireland, but only with your aid will my sons and your sons rule this vast palatinate.

  William de Burgh

  Lord of Connaught

  Falcon measured Murphy another drink and joined him. “Tell me of William. What manner of man is he?”

  Murphy scratched his head. “What is there to tell? He’s a fierce warrior who has fought all his life. In years past all that mattered to him was loyalty to the crown. You were his heir when he had no sons of his own, but many years after the first Lady de Burgh died, he married Moira and she gave him his two sons. She’s no more than a young girl still. Now I believe the most important thing to William is his sons’ inheritance. Richard, the eldest, is barely seven years old. William knows if anything happens the boys will never be able to hold what is rightfully theirs.”

  Falcon fixed Murphy with his green crystal eyes. “If anything happens?” he repeated.

  The red-haired giant looked uncomfortable as if he had been trapped. He got to his feet and did a turn about the room. Then he came back and faced de Burgh. “Look, I’m tellin’ secrets, an’ William would flay the skin offa me if he knew, but the wound he took was a bad one. He coughs blood an’ I think he sees the writin’ on the wall.”

  Falcon contemplated the great baronies of Ireland. They covered much more land than those in England and were indeed palatinates. William Marshal held the lordship of Leinster, Walter de Lacey held Meath, and his brother Hugh de Lacey held Ulster. Connaught was greater than any. Never let it be said that Falcon de Burgh was not an ambitious man. He now had sons of his own to think of. “My wife’s grandmother, Dame Estelle Winwood, is more clever in treating ailments than any physician. It is possible she could do something for William.”

  “You’ll come then?” asked Murphy. “I will consider it,” Falcon said bluntly.

  Jasmine had a chamber plenished for Murphy and introduced him to Estelle. “I hear your mother is a genius in treatin’ a man’s aches an’ pains. Perhaps she could do somethin’ with the misery in me shoulder,” he said, rubbing his upper arm.

  Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “I am her grandmother, not her mother,” but she was not displeased with the compliment. “I will bring you a liniment after dinner that dispels rheumatism in the joints.”

  As Estelle walked away he said with appreciation to Jasmine, “She’s a foin figure of a woman!”

  Jasmine tried to hide a smile; Murphy must have more guts than a slaughterhouse to tackle Estelle.

  After dinner Falcon was amazed that Murphy was still on his feet after all he had imbibed that day. When Estelle took him a pot of her special liniment made from the ground-up root of cuckoopint boiled in oil of roses and mixed into bean flour, Murphy took off his doublet so she could apply it. “That smells too fancy for the loikes of me,” he said, winking.

  “Well, if you insist, I could mix in some hot ox dung,” she threatened. “Sit down, man, I can’t reach you.”

  He did as he was bidden, but he slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her down into his lap.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” said Estelle. “You don’t have a rheumatic complaint at all, do you?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

  He grinned at her and lowered his voice. “I have an ache elsewhere I bet you could ease.”

  “Oh, you’re a betting man, are you? Well, I wager you’ve had so much liquor you can’t even get it up!” Estelle said bluntly.

  Murphy’s grin widened, “’T is a bet, my little dearling. If I put it up, will you put it in?”

  “You’re a cheeky old bugger, Murphy,” she said, laughing. “It’s so long since it was used, I’m not sure it’s really there.”

  He kissed her ear. “Shall we find out?” he invited.

  The next day brought yet another visitor bringing a message. With only a handful of men Salisbury came riding in before sunset. He had n
ews and a request from King John. It could have easily been brought by messenger, but Salisbury himself came because he was anxious to know how his little Jasmine fared. When they last parted she had seemed so unhappy over her marriage to de Burgh.

  She was overjoyed to see her father and took him by the hand up to the tower room now used as a nursery. He was a proud grandfather and couldn’t get over the fact that Jasmine had borne them. He kept shaking his head and laughing. “Your relationship certainly must have undergone a metamorphosis. Things were strained between you to say the least.”

  Jasmine smiled her secret smile as Falcon came into the chamber to receive hearty congratulations.

  “What happened between you two?” asked Salisbury, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “De Burgh in heat was too hard to resist,” she said lightly, causing both men to flush.

  Closeted with Salisbury, Falcon learned that, in a bold attempt to avert civil war, John’s advisers had suggested he take his army to conquer Ireland once and for all. Amazingly most of the barons had agreed to send their men. He had appointed a new justiciar in Ireland to look to the crown’s interests in the land—an Irish baron by the name of Meiler fitz Henry.

  “John knows your worth as a fighting man, he knows the loyalty your men bear you—envies it, in fact. He is calling on you as one of the Lords of the Welsh Marches to fulfill your military obligations to the crown.”

  Since Falcon had already decided to go to Ireland to aid William de Burgh, he reasoned that he might as well let John bear the financial burden of transporting his men and their horses. He said, “I’m ready now. All I need is ships. With Hubert de Burgh in charge of the Cinque Ports I don’t think that should pose a problem, do you?”

  Salisbury sighed with satisfaction. Falcon de Burgh was always so decisive, which is exactly what made him such a great general in battle.

  “The navy has ships in Bristol. Don’t you want to wait for the departure of the other barons? There’s talk of John sailing with the army.”

  “Wait for John?” Falcon asked, laughing incredulously. “Unlike John I can’t waste my life cowering under the bedsheets. It’s now or never, providing I’m in charge of when we sail and where we make land. I’ll send the ships back for the rest of your army, William.”

  “I don’t think you need worry about Chester any longer. Rumor has it he is to wed soon.”

  Falcon grinned. “Me? Worry about Chester?”

  The two men enjoyed a hearty laugh. “John has finally produced an heir. I left him strutting about like he was the first man to ever sire a son. I’d better not tell him you’ve even bettered him in that.”

  Falcon ran his hand down Jasmine’s ever-tempting hair as she sat brushing it, then disrobed quickly and stretched himself in the bed. He had something to tell her and wasn’t at all sure that she would understand. Never one for evasive words, he came right out with it. “I am going to Ireland.”

  Her hand stopped in midair holding the brush. She looked at him stretched with his hands behind his dark head. He had not discussed it with her. He had taken the decision himself. She sighed. She couldn’t expect a man like de Burgh to seek her council, it would be like asking for her permission. The idea would not occur to him. She approached him clad only in her shift. She was about to ask softly, “When do we leave?” when he imprisoned her wrist and said thickly, “I already miss you!”

  “What?” she asked incredulously, her eyes going wide.

  “Come to bed, love,” he urged.

  “Not now! You are not going to Ireland; we are going to Ireland.”

  “Don’t be silly, Jasmine, think of the danger.”

  “There is danger if you leave us here. What of Chester?”

  “He is to be wed,” he said quietly.

  “Then John. You know he would like to get his hands on me!” she hissed.

  “John needs my aid. You need fear nothing from that quarter,” he assured her. “Come to bed. I had in mind a more pleasant pursuit than fighting with you.”

  She was angry. She flared, “Not now! There’s still danger here. What if that whore of yours comes creeping back to murder me and my babes in our beds?”

  “Jasmine, that’s enough!” he silenced.

  She ignored the warning. “You think I’m useless. I made it over those damned Black Mountains through the freezing snow. I learned how to run a castle. I gave you two sons.”

  “Jasmine, come here to me,” he commanded. She turned her back on him. “You can forget about that, de Burgh. Try sleeping alone!” She slammed the chamber door and ran up to the nursery. Big Meg eyed her silk shift and flushed cheeks.

  Jasmine said, “I’ve decided to sleep up here tonight.” No sooner was the declaration out of her mouth than an angry de Burgh strode in, naked as the day he was born.

  “Don’t ever turn your back and walk out on me again,” he ground out.

  “Hush, you’ll wake the babes,” she said.

  Meg rolled her eyes as the master picked up the mistress and strode out with her in his powerful arms. He slammed their bedchamber door shut with a kick and set her feet down in front of the fire. Then he pulled her down to the furs and pushed her back into their deep pile. Fierce crystal-green eyes reflecting the flames of the fire challenged her to deny him. “I will send for you when all is secured and safe.”

  “No!” she spat.

  “I will not allow you to pull away from me, to withdraw from me again … keeping yourself from me while you grow ever colder and I grow ever hotter!” His eyes burned her with his intent, unblinking, his meaning deliberate. He tore off her shift, possessively feasting on the sight of her rosy breasts in the flickering firelight. He knew she was watching his face, his eyes, his mouth as they worshipped her nudity, and he knew the effect it was having on her as her eyelids half closed. He trapped a nipple between finger and thumb and manipulated it gently, then cupped her breasts with his great scarred hands and brought them to his mouth.

  Her arms slid about his neck and she clasped him to her, opening her thighs. He slid into her hot sheath, filling her completely. Wildly she wrapped her legs about him, tossing her head from side to side on the silvery furs, riding with him to that secret place only the two of them were allowed to go. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Take me!” It had a double meaning in that precise moment and he knew he could deny her nothing.

  Afterward she lay in his arms in the big bed, whispering between kisses. “All you need do is sail straight to Connaught, secure a castle for us, then fight your way through to William at Boyle. If you can’t do that in short order, I’ll know you for a weak-livered, ass-eared lout.” She was almost childlike in her trust and confidence in his abilities.

  He kissed her again and murmured, “You have an uncommon knowledge of my business, madame.”

  “You forget I am a witch,” she teased him with her tongue.

  “Did you say bitch?” he asked, his mouth sliding down to taste her luscious breasts. His lips traced down her stomach and drifted between her legs. As his cheek rested against her soft thigh, he asked her to show him the place she liked to be touched. He captured her hand, kissed each finger, then ran his tongue across her palm. He guided her first finger to the insistent hot pulsing between her legs.

  “Here?” he whispered, allowing her fingertip to touch the swollen pink flesh. “Here?” he asked huskily, moving her finger to touch the erect bud of her womanhood.

  When she gasped “Please, Falcon,” he smiled knowingly and raised her hand back to his mouth. He sucked the sweetness from her fingertips then took her fiercely a second time. Then he enfolded her in his arms with her back against him so he could fall asleep holding her breast as he always did.

  Falcon sealed his message to William de Burgh, and Murphy was on his way. William and Mathilda de Braose decided to sail with Murphy to Meath where their son-in-law Walter de Lacey ruled, and which would bring Murphy closer to Boyle.

  While the s
hips were being brought from Bristol, Falcon pored over his maps of Ireland. He was a direct man who chose a goal and made an unswerving path toward it, and he saw no reason to change his methods in this campaign. Most of the English in Ireland went to Dublin and never ventured beyond The Pale. He would go to the opposite coast. He would sail directly into Galway and secure it. Galway looked to have a magnificent bay. He knew it had a great Norman castle built by the Conqueror in the last century when Galway had been a thriving seaport.

  It was also the heart of the de Burgh lands of Connaught. In the week before they sailed he almost despaired that he had promised to take Jasmine, for he realized that wherever she went, the menagerie followed. The twins, their wet nurse, Big Meg, and Estelle he grudgingly agreed to. She had to seduce him, however, into agreeing to take Feather and Prick. When the subject of Shanna arose, he flatly refused, and Jasmine was forced to smuggle the great cat aboard a supply ship under cover of dark. Jasmine would leave nothing behind she valued, for she knew with a deep certainty that their future lay in Ireland, for good or for ill.

  Falcon was mildly surprised that his knights and men-at-arms totaled four hundred. No wonder John wanted his service again. Well, he was going to Ireland, but it sure as hell wasn’t in the king’s cause. It was in de Burgh’s cause and would remain so for the rest of his life, he vowed.

  The voyage across the Celtic Sea was unremarkable, mainly because by chance they had picked the best month of the summer to sail. Jasmine saw nothing of Falcon during the voyage for his every minute was taken up with his men, their horses, weapons, and supplies, but the last night as they stood at anchor by the Aran Isles awaiting the other ships, he came to her.