Notorious

by Virginia Henley

  “Then all hope is lost. They are not coming, Father.”

  “The army will cross at Shrewsbury. We cannot prevent them and we do not have a large enough force to defeat them in battle.”

  Wolf remained silent. He did not suggest their only alternative. It must come from the dauntless Mortimer.

  “I will have to make terms with Edward,” Roger said decisively.

  Wolf nodded. “I put Mother and my sisters in sanctuary at Wigmore Abbey. You needn’t worry about their safety, when you negotiate for terms.”

  “I’m relieved the girls are safe—no thanks to me.”

  “You had more than enough to occupy you.”

  “Well, I’ve dealt with Pembroke before. I can do it again. The fine we’ll have to pay will be astronomical—we’ll have to sell some of our land to meet it. I may even have to spend time in custody,” Mortimer said with resignation.

  “You will do what is expedient, Father,” Wolf said confidently.

  The royal army crossed the River Severn on January 14, and the following day at Shrewsbury Castle, King Edward ordered the arrest of the Mortimers and the Earl of Hereford and issued a safe conduct so they could come to him unharmed.

  Roger Mortimer did what he always did when summoned by the king. He ignored the order.

  Edward sent another messenger with an arrest order for Roger Mortimer, Mortimer of Chirk, and Hereford and again issued them a safe conduct to Shrewsbury.

  This time Roger sent a message to Edward, trying to make terms. He told him that Hereford was not with him and that Mortimer of Chirk was ailing and must be excused. He offered to lay down his arms in return for clemency.

  The king was outraged. He handed the courier a message that read:

  Mortimer, I promise you nothing. You have committed treason by rising in arms against me, defying my commands, and supporting my enemies. Your safe conduct expires on January 20.

  On January 21, when the Mortimers did not show up, the Earl of Pembroke came to mediate. Rashly, he assured them that if they submitted to the king, their lives would not be in peril and they would be pardoned.

  Roger thanked Pembroke and told him that he and his Uncle Chirk would present themselves to King Edward the next day at Shrewsbury Castle.

  When Pembroke left, Roger called the leaders and lieutenants into his tent. He looked at his friend Rickard. “De Beauchamp, I thank you for your support. I want you to leave now. They don’t know you are here and I want neither you nor the men you brought from Ireland to be in jeopardy.” Roger’s eyes moved to Audley. “Since the arrest warrant does not bear your name, I advise you to make yourself scarce.”

  That night as Wolf stared into the flames of the campfire, he sensed the jaws of the trap closing. He tried to reconjure the visions he’d had when they’d camped beside the Thames and he had foreseen the finger of death touching three Marcher barons. Wolf felt certain that Uncle Chirk was one of them, but the identity of the other two remained unknown. He was in a dilemma—should he tell his father what he felt in his bones and take away his hope? When Roger joined him by the fire, Wolf suddenly realized that his father had decided against fighting, to save his Borderers from a bloodbath. Wolf chose to give him only strengthening words. “Father, you will prevail.”

  The following day, Mortimer and Chirk rode into Shrewsbury and surrendered to the king. The moment the pair dismounted, they were surrounded by royal guards and were put into chains.

  Roger was stunned. “Mortimer of Chirk is a sick man! Release him and take your revenge on me, Edward.”

  “I fully intend to take my revenge. There will be no pardon for either of you. I hereby confiscate for the Crown all the lands and properties that belong to any with the name Mortimer. I also order the arrest of Lady Mortimer and your sons.” Edward waved his hand. “Throw them in Shrewsbury’s dungeon. When we have dealt with the rest of the traitorous Marchers, you will be incarcerated in the Tower of London to await trial for treason.”

  Mortimer’s gray eyes stared into Edward’s with burning hatred. Misbegotten degenerate! You are the poorest fucking excuse for a king England has ever known. “I curse you, Edward Plantagenet! Remember this day, for I will bring you low!”

  On the third day of February, Brianna opened her chamber door and read the words on a note the page boy handed her: I have news. Come to the stables. It was signed Simon Deveril.

  Brianna donned a wool cloak and went to meet him immediately.

  Simon was standing at the stable entrance. He put his finger to his lips. “You have a visitor.”

  Wolf Mortimer! I had a premonition I would see him soon. She started toward the box stall, when she saw a dark male currying her palfrey, Venus. He put a warning finger to his lips. Rickard! You’re supposed to be in Ireland. For a moment, her heart lifted with joy, and then it plummeted. Dear God, my brother is here to bring me ill tidings!

  “You have become a rare beauty, as I always knew you would. Brianna, I am sorry to be the bearer of sad news. The king took Roger Mortimer and his Uncle Chirk prisoner at Shrewsbury twelve days ago and confiscated everything they own. Arrest warrants were issued for his wife and sons.”

  Brianna stared at Rickard, aghast. Her heartbeat hammered in her eardrums. “How do you know?”

  “I was there. I returned from Ireland because of a Welsh uprising. We soon put that down. Father even came to help, but when the royal army threatened, we insisted he go back to Warwick and lie low.”

  “You lost the battle?” she whispered, clutching his hand.

  Rickard pressed grim lips together and shook his head. “There was no battle. Pembroke assured Mortimer that if he submitted to the king, he would be pardoned. The Marcher forces were outnumbered thirty-to-one. Mortimer ordered me to leave. Then he surrendered to save his men.”

  “What of his sons?” Her hand went to her throat.

  “They were taken into custody. They could have fought off the royal force that came to take them, but it would have put their father in jeopardy. Wolf would never do that.”

  He knew he would be taken, that’s why he brought Shadow to me.

  “’Tis certain Edward will not leave the Mortimers at Shrewsbury for fear they will be rescued. Almost certainly they will be transferred to the Tower of London, where escape is impossible.”

  “Edward has confiscated everything at Ludlow and Wigmore?” she asked in disbelief. “He left the Mortimers nothing?”

  “Nothing. Wolf took his mother and sisters to a nunnery for sanctuary. Edward’s army swept south and took every Marcher castle in his path. He has claimed everything that belongs to Hereford, Audley, Mowbray, and d’Amory. Yesterday, Berkley Castle surrendered and Lord Berkley and his son, Maurice, were cast into prison.”

  “Berkley’s son is wed to Mortimer’s daughter Margaret.”

  “Exactly. Let’s hope they had enough foresight to get her to sanctuary.” Rickard lowered his voice. “Edward is mad with power. No one is safe. I’m on my way to Warwick to warn Father to keep his mouth shut and do nothing. Will you let me take you home, Brianna?”

  “No, no, Rickard. I cannot leave Isabelle. Edward has petitioned to have the Despencers’ banishment annulled. If Hugh returns to the king, she will need me. She will be devastated.”

  “Hugh Despencer is already with the king—they spent Yule together.”

  Brianna’s heart constricted. “I knew it! He has confiscated the Marcher lands to give to the insatiable Despencer.”

  “I must go. Let no one know that I am in England. I will be in touch with you, whenever I can. Be careful, Brianna.”

  “Thank you for coming to see me, Rickard. When you see Mother, Father, and Guy Thomas, tell them that I love them dearly.”

  Brianna returned to the castle slowly. Her heart was heavy at the thought of Roger Mortimer losing everything, including his freedom. She pushed thoughts of Wolf away; they were too painful to even contemplate.

  She did not relish the task of imparting the news
to Isabelle, but tell her she must. Keeping the queen in ignorance would be both insulting and dangerous. Though Isabelle was only twenty-seven, she had been forced to cope with many demoralizing situations that would have daunted all, and defeated most, women. Isabelle is stronger than she realizes. I must reinforce that resilient strength every day.

  Brianna found the queen in baby Joan’s nursery. Isabelle had decided that her little daughter was old enough to eat solid food.

  “She takes the bottle so hungrily. Most likely milk isn’t enough to satisfy her voracious appetite.” Isabelle glanced at Brianna. She had the soft brown eyes of a doe that reflected her feelings, if she did not veil them with her lashes. “Brianna, you have learned something that saddens you.” She handed baby Joan to her nurse. “Come, we can be private in my chamber.”

  They walked side by side in silence until they reached the queen’s bedchamber. They went in and Brianna closed the door.

  “Please sit down, Isabelle. My news will distress you.”

  “Oh no!” She sat and gripped the arms of the chair.

  Brianna sat down facing her. “The king’s army so outnumbered the Marcher barons’ forces that Roger Mortimer surrendered to save his men. The Earl of Pembroke assured Mortimer he’d be pardoned, but Edward chained him and imprisoned him at Shrewsbury Castle.”

  All the color left Isabelle’s face. “Who told you this?”

  Brianna shook her head. “I can only tell you that it was someone who was there, someone I trust with my life.”

  Isabelle wondered if it was her betrothed, Lincoln de Warenne.

  “The king confiscated all Mortimer landholdings. Then he did the same with all the castles and lands of the other Marcher lords.” She took a deep breath. “Hugh Despencer spent Yule with the king. I warrant it was done at his urging.”

  Isabelle had loosened her grip on the chair. Her fists were clenched so tightly, her fingernails dug into her palms. Her eyes were two glittering slits and her lips were drawn back in a snarl that bared her teeth. “I hate, loathe, and detest the swine.” Her words were halfway between a whisper and a hiss.

  “Hugh Despencer is an evil, degenerate influence.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “No—not Hugh.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve always been cautious speaking of Edward. I’ve thought it, but not said it because it is treasonous to speak ill of the King of England. But if I don’t spew the venom that is building inside me into someone’s ears, I will die of the poison!”

  Brianna went down on her knees before the queen. “You can say anything to me, Isabelle. I will never betray your confidence.”

  “I loathe Edward Plantagenet with every fiber of my being. As a bride of thirteen, I fell in love at first glance. He starved me of attention and lavished it upon Gaveston, his lover. Edward allowed, nay, encouraged him to feed my jealousy until it ate into my soul and shattered my heart.

  “Edward was so obsessed by his pretty plaything, he allowed Gaveston to make my life a living hell. He and his entourage of Gascons bled the treasury dry. Edward was so weak, he became addicted to venery and sexual perversion, and his lover was able to lead him about by his prick! He abdicated his role as king and allowed the country to fall into chaos, while he and his lover indulged in pleasure and slaked their lust.

  “When Thomas of Lancaster executed Gaveston, not for crimes against me, but against the kingdom, Edward turned to me for solace and companionship. He begged me to forgive him for the sins he had committed against me and asked that I be his friend. A tiny flicker of hope rekindled inside me, and even though I knew he was flawed and weak and immoral, I swallowed my hurt, my humiliation, my pride, and finally became his wife. I could not bring myself to love Edward, though I became a dutiful wife and accepted him as my husband. And there is no denying that I love and adore the children he gave me.

  “When Hugh Despencer became chamberlain of the royal household and I learned Edward had gone back to his old habits, I was stunned. The thing that devastated me, and for which I will never forgive him, was that he shared my bed and used my body at the same time he was being intimate with Hugh. He fathered my last child before I learned of his debauchery. Edward dishonored me and covered me with shame and humiliation.

  “To add injury to insult he permitted Hugh Despencer to become the uncrowned king. Edward allowed him to treat me like a serf, rather than a Princess of France and the Queen of England. Despencer sent away my ladies, packed my servants off to France, and took away my dower castles, so that I was penniless. But it was the whoreson Edward who permitted this to happen. He is unstable. He disgusts and repulses me and I abhor him!

  “Roger Mortimer released me from my purgatory and got Hugh Despencer banished. Now Edward not only has had the banishment annulled, he has delivered Mortimer to his lover so he may take his revenge. Edward Plantagenet, I spit upon you. I curse you!” Isabelle broke down and began to sob.

  Brianna, totally caught up in Isabelle’s vehemence, wrapped her arms about her. “Get it all out. Don’t let the poison fester.”

  When Isabelle’s tears became dry heaves, Brianna said, “Once you are all cried out, you must make a vow to yourself that you will never cry again because of Edward. It is good that you got mad and your anger exploded, but now you must get even. You must be avenged for the wrongs done to you, Isabelle. The only way you can do that is by becoming stronger. Each day you must strive to become stronger than the day before. All things come at their appointed time. You must have infinite patience, but when the opportunity comes, you must be ready.”

  Isabelle raised her tearstained face. “I feel so guilty. I started all this trouble when I went to Leeds Castle. It is my fault that Roger Mortimer has been taken prisoner!”

  “It is not your fault. King Edward is to blame. I, too, am heartbroken that Roger Mortimer has lost everything, including his freedom. I cannot bear the thought that his sons have been taken into custody. But neither one of us must let anyone know our true feelings. Not by look or word must we appear to be anything other than indifferent. Never let anyone see a chink in your armor, or they will strike you to the heart. Promise me, nay, promise yourself, Isabelle!”

  “I do so promise…I swear it!”

  “Both the king and Despencer have sown the seeds of their own destruction by these unlawful acts against the Marcher barons. Their enemies will be legion. England will cry out for justice.”

  That night in bed, Brianna could not sleep because of the heavy thoughts that pressed down upon her. It was untenable to think of the gallant Roger Mortimer in prison. Even worse, the thought of Wolf’s incarceration was unbearably painful. He has a natural wildness. It will be unendurable for him to be fettered or caged.

  Brianna’s chest began to tighten. She tried to breathe deeply, fighting the hands that squeezed inside her chest. The old terror from her childhood stole upon her. The children at her eighth birthday party had been playing hide-and-seek and she had hidden in a heavy oak settle. She had been trapped for hours in the dark, confined space that had no air, and imagined she was going to die. Panic began to slowly choke her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe!

  Brianna’s eardrums began to pulse and gradually, she realized it was the sound of rain against her windowpane. It broke her trance and she shot up out of bed and drew in gulps of air. She remembered that it was ten-year-old Lincoln Robert who had freed her from that heavy oak settle, and knew that was the moment she had begun to love him.

  Brianna still felt too confined and was compelled to go outside. She put on her dark cloak and went up to the crenellated castle roof. In the lovely fresh air, she lifted her face to the raindrops and breathed deeply. She felt better, but sad thoughts of Wolf Mortimer’s confinement lingered. I cannot free Wolf, but tomorrow I will visit Shadow and make sure she has a day of freedom in the forest.

  “Margaret, I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you and James here at Warwick. I know you
must be sick with worry for your husband, but knowing you are safe here with us will lessen Hugh’s burden.” Jory had always loved Princess Joanna’s daughter.

  “I wish we had news.” Margaret’s voice was apprehensive.

  Jory too was anxious about the Marchers. She was especially worried about the Mortimers and her husband’s son, Rickard de Beauchamp. Guy had been unusually silent and somewhat remote during the fortnight he had been back at Warwick and Jory assumed it was caused by anxiety for his son and heir.

  Jory gazed from the tower chamber window, scanning the horizon for a nonexistent messenger. Her eye was drawn to the figure of her husband. He walked alone, save for his ever-present companion Brutus. The tall wolfhound and Guy had been inseparable since his return from the Marches. They communicate without words. A touch is all that is necessary between them. Jory smiled. Rather like Guy and myself.

  That night, when they retired to their bedchamber, Guy became particularly attentive to his wife. He cupped Jory’s face with loving hands and gazed down at her as if memorizing every detail, treasuring her delicate beauty, appreciating the feel of her soft skin, cherishing the caress of her silver-gilt hair as it brushed against his fingers, inhaling her intoxicating woman’s scent, and savoring the feel of her lips against his. “Have I told you how lovely you are, my beauty?”

  Jory smiled up at him. “Incessantly, but I never tire of it.”

  His fingers brushed the tendrils back from her temples, and then he traced her brows and her cheekbones. “I’m the luckiest man alive.” He drew a fingertip down her nose and outlined her lips. “You look exactly the same as the day I first saw you.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m forty years old.”

  “Jory, to me you will never grow old.” He picked her up, carried her to bed, and made gentle love that lasted for hours.

  For the next few nights, it became a ritual, beginning with Guy cupping Jory’s face to gaze down at her, and ending with hours of lovemaking. During the day, Jory watched her husband with adoring eyes, and slowly, it came to her that he was keeping a secret.