“Well, they aren’t exactly in a position to visit you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hereford’s sons, and Mortimer’s sons, are being confined here at Windsor.”
“Do you mean they are prisoners?” he asked doubtfully.
“Yes. Your father is in conflict with the Marcher barons and considers them enemies. Roger Mortimer surrendered to save his men. Apparently the Earl of Hereford escaped, but his sons and Mortimer’s sons were taken into custody and sent here to Windsor.”
“Let’s go and visit them. Do you know where they are?”
“Yes, I do know. Will you get into trouble, Teddy?”
“I don’t really care. My tutors tell me nothing. I must make sure my cousins are housed as befits their royal status, and I’m eager to meet Mortimer’s sons. Roger Mortimer is a renowned military leader whom I greatly admire. I cannot think of him as an enemy when he has kept both Wales and Ireland secure for us.”
Brianna led the way from the park into the Lower Ward; they rode past the stables and dismounted at the guardhouse barracks. When they entered, the large room fell silent. The guards could not remember Prince Edward visiting their barracks before.
The royal prince strode past the guards with Brianna in tow. His face broke into a smile when he saw his cousins. “John, Humphrey, it is so good to see you, though the circumstances are less than ideal.” He moved forward and shook their hands warmly. “I had no idea you were here until Lady Brianna informed me.”
“Edward, you have grown apace since last we met,” John declared. The heir to the throne was physically and mentally mature beyond his years.
Humphrey said with resignation, “Since we are to be confined, Windsor is the best possible place.”
Both de Bohun brothers gazed at Brianna with appreciation; the guards too ogled her.
Brianna did not notice. She stood rooted to the spot, staring across the room, her gaze held by a pair of intense gray eyes. Though there were a score of people present, they were invisible to Brianna. She was aware of only one man. The look they shared awakened every one of her senses. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat and her mouth went dry.
Edward and his cousins crossed the room and John introduced the prince to Edmund Mortimer.
Brianna heard Wolf’s voice in her head. Come to me. Slowly, she followed the others until she was standing beside him. She murmured low, “They are coming to the Tower. I’ll try to get word to your father that you are safe.”
“No!” A forbidding look came into his eyes. “Do not put yourself in danger.”
She stepped back, furious that he thought he could dictate to her, even when he was in confinement. We cannot be in the same room without my temper flaring!
Edward spoke to Wolf Mortimer, telling him how much he admired his father. Before they left, the prince said, “I shall visit you often. If there is anything you need to make your detention more bearable, don’t hesitate to ask.” He crossed the room and spoke with the guards. “Who is in charge of the prisoners?”
Captain Lionel Colby stepped forward. “I am, Your Grace.”
“Have they given you their parole, Colby?”
“They have indeed.”
“Good. They are men of honor. You may take them at their word. They will give you no trouble.”
“The Mortimers won’t, because the well-being of their father depends upon it. That is the point of their confinement, sir.”
Edward fixed Colby with an icy blue stare. “And the de Bohuns won’t, because they are royal.”
Hell’s teeth, don’t antagonize their guard, Teddy! Brianna looked at Colby, gave him a conspiratorial wink, and was relieved to see his lips twitch with amusement.
“I want the bottom half of the walls wainscoted and the top half whitewashed and painted with roses,” Isabelle told the workmen who were decorating her royal apartment at the Tower.
Brianna could see by the expression on Alspaye’s face that he was bursting to tell her some news and she guessed that the elder Mortimers had arrived. She went into the Great Hall, which led to the royal kitchen, knowing he would follow.
“Where are they?” she asked quickly.
“The Lanthorn Tower. It’s next to this one.” He gazed about the large room for a minute. “The kitchen actually runs between this tower and the Lanthorn Tower.”
Brianna closed her eyes for a moment, overcome by the thought of the handsome, gallant Roger Mortimer in captivity. Her pulses raced that he was so close, yet so far.
“Their cell is far from elegant. It is long and narrow with lofty ceilings. Only threepence a day has been allotted for their maintenance. ’Tis a blessing they brought their own servant to do their laundry.”
“Surely nobly born prisoners should be comfortably housed, fed, and allowed privileges,” she said passionately.
“You were right about him being a gentleman. He has shown no animosity toward me, in spite of the fact that I am his gaoler.”
“He has immense pride and courage. I am sure it would greatly ease his mind if you could tell him that his sons are safe at Windsor.” Brianna bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Gerard. Please forget that I asked you to do such a reckless thing as pass along a message from me. I have no right to compromise your integrity.” She lowered her lashes so he could not see how pleased she was with her clever speech.
During their next few visits, Isabelle worked her enchantment on Sir Stephen Segrave, asking his advice on refurbishing her Tower apartments and flattering him with attention and compliments. Meanwhile, Brianna took pains to ensure her friendship with Gerard Alspaye blossomed. The pair of conspirators worked toward one goal—to be able to communicate with Roger Mortimer. Some way, some day, each hoped to converse with him face-to-face.
Brianna sat up in bed. Her neck prickled and her eyes searched the darkness for something that had disturbed her. She knew it was long past midnight, yet dawn had not begun to lighten the sky.
“It’s me.”
When she heard Wolf’s voice coming through the darkness, she thought she was dreaming. When he stepped from the shadows and drew closer to the bed, she knew he could not be there, and believed she was still fast in the arms of Morpheus.
He lit one candle and the flickering light illuminated his wild, dark features. “You’re not dreaming.”
Brianna believed him. “More like a nightmare! How did you elude the guards?”
“It’s best that you not know, Brianna.”
His words piqued her defiance. “I passed a message to your father that you were safe, despite your warning.”
“I would prefer that you not endanger yourself on my behalf,” he said firmly.
She tossed her head in a defiant gesture. “I do it on Roger Mortimer’s behalf, not yours!”
“You are determined to involve yourself.” It was a statement, rather than a question.
“Wolf, if I can help your father, or you, I shall do so.”
“I would never ask it of you.”
“If I did not wish to do this with all my heart, your asking could not make me.”
“Brianna,” he said softly, “I could seduce you into doing anything I wished.”
No, you could not! Well, mayhap you could, you devil. She shuddered and pulled the covers up to her chin.
“If you wish to help us communicate, I will be most grateful. But I promise I will never lure you to it, no matter how much you tempt me. My integrity wouldn’t allow it.”
“You mean your pride!”
He ignored the taunt. “My father, on the other hand, would not cavil at seduction. Be warned, Brianna.”
She refused to believe the accusation.
“I saw Shadow not long ago. We spent the day in the forest.”
“Thank you, Brianna.”
She noticed he was dressed all in black. She watched him slip a black silk hood over his head, and when he snuffed out the candle with his fingers, he completely disappeared.
“Wolf?” she
whispered. There was only silence. He had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Chapter 17
“Lord Mortimer,” Brianna said softly as her heart beat a wild tattoo inside her breast. She had arranged with Gerard Alspaye to be at the door that led to the Tower garden when he brought Roger Mortimer for his daily outing.
“Dearest Brianna.” His gray eyes kindled with affection. “You are very brave.”
Alspaye opened the door and drew his prisoner outside.
Brianna was grateful to have seen Roger and thrilled beyond belief that he had spoken an endearment to her. She remained where she was, guarding the door, acting as lookout because Isabelle was in the garden. It was mid-April; it had taken weeks to arrange this brief meeting between the queen and Mortimer.
Brianna was not surprised that Roger had soon made Alspaye his friend and confidant. His young gaoler was dazzled by the dark Borderer’s charisma and magnetism. Brianna also had worked her charm on Gerard until he finally agreed to make it possible for the queen to meet his prisoner.
Roger Mortimer stepped beneath a shade tree that would shield him from observation from the Tower windows. The queen was there before him, waiting impatiently to meet the courageous Marcher lord who had risked and lost everything.
Isabelle held out beseeching hands. “Lord Mortimer, my guilt overwhelms me. It is my fault you are a prisoner.”
Roger took her hands. The moment he touched her, something akin to lightning sparked between them. As he gazed down at the small, exquisite female, a desire to make her happy engulfed him. No woman had ever had this effect on him before, though he had known many intimately.
He took her fingers to his lips. “Ma belle, you are more a prisoner than I will ever be. My heart aches for you.”
Her lovely blue eyes sparkled with tears as she gazed at him with a poignant look of sorrow mingled with admiration.
In that moment she was the most feminine creature he had ever seen; a supplicant begging him for forgiveness. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face, framed by delicate blond tendrils of hair, cried out to his overt, dominant masculinity.
“There is nothing to forgive, my queen. You must not shed one tear for me, Isabelle. I forbid it.”
“I never knew a man with such strength and courage. What can I do to ease your captivity?” she implored.
He shook his head. “I will survive. My Uncle Chirk ails—he’d benefit from a doctor’s visit.”
“I’ll send my own physician,” she promised.
“Go, now,” he ordered. “You must not be discovered with me.”
Isabelle obeyed, though she was reluctant to leave him.
It pleased Mortimer that though she was the Queen of England, she willingly did as he bade her.
Isabelle slipped through the door where Brianna stood waiting. Wordlessly, the pair of conspirators hurried back to the queen’s elegantly decorated apartments.
It was Friday, and Isabelle had invited Sir Stephen Segrave to sup with her that evening. She had installed a cook and small kitchen staff so they could provide meals whenever she visited. They had been given rooms in another part of the Tower, away from the royal apartments, so that when they finished their work in the kitchen, they would retire to their own chambers to give the queen privacy.
“I have a dozen potent bottles of wine I brought from the Wardrobe storage,” Brianna confirmed to Isabelle. “When I serve you tonight, I will keep Segrave’s glass filled constantly. We want him to fall in the habit of overindulging on Friday nights so that he sleeps like the dead.”
“I can tell by his florid complexion that he is a man who is addicted to drink. I know the signs of a drunkard well, since I am wed to one.” Isabelle shuddered with distaste.
That evening the constable arrived promptly at six o’clock and for the next three hours he set about devouring enough food and wine to fell an ox.
Isabelle entertained him, flattered him, and encouraged him to talk about himself. All the while, Brianna plied him with dazzling smiles and potent wine.
When Isabelle believed that his tongue was sufficiently loosened, she said, “Sir Stephen, your position as Constable of the Tower carries so much responsibility, especially now that you have two notorious noble prisoners.”
“One of them doesn’t look long for this world, Your Grace.”
“I shouldn’t want you to get the blame if anything happened to the wretch. For your own safeguard, Sir Stephen, why don’t you have my physician take a look at the fellow?”
“Mayhap you are right…try to keep him alive at least until he stands trial.”
It was after nine o’clock when Segrave rose to leave. When he bent over the queen’s hand to bid her good night, the constable swayed on his feet and Brianna knew she had done her job well.
An hour later, Brianna opened the door to Alspaye and Mortimer’s servant. She gave them the meat and bread left over from the queen’s supper and added a bottle of wine. Her heart was a little less heavy, knowing that Roger would eat tonight.
Isabelle lay in bed in her newly furbished bedchamber unable to sleep. Though her day had begun early and ended late, and had been filled with activities, the only minutes that meant anything to her were those she had spent in the garden with Roger Mortimer. She relived their encounter over and over again in her mind.
It was the first time a real man had looked at her with appreciation for her femininity. His bold gray eyes told her frankly that he found her sexually attractive. It was a new and thrilling experience and she responded like a flower lifting its face to the sun. She hungered for a man’s attention, his admiration and approval, his strength and his tenderness. Today, when he touched her, he had imbued her with his vitality and his power. She marveled that though he was in captivity, they would never be able to cage his spirit.
Before Roger Mortimer lay down on the narrow bed in his cell, he fed Chirk a full cup of wine and waited until he slept. Then, with his eyes fixed on the stars visible through the small, high window, rather than the water droplets trickling down the damp stonewall, he thought about the rendezvous in the garden.
On a physical level, Isabelle’s delicate, blond beauty appealed to all his masculine senses. He tried to pinpoint the thing that aroused his intense attraction. It suddenly dawned on him that it was her innocence. Even though she was twenty-seven years old and a mother, she was not yet a woman. Her female sexuality had not yet been awakened. She had mated and procreated, but she had never been taught that sex could be for pleasure. That still lay before her and he anticipated that he would be the one who would introduce her to sensuality. What made her extremely tempting and enticing was the fact that she was ripe and ready, perhaps without even being aware of it. She was alluring and tantalizing, with the added fillip of innocence, which made her both desirable and utterly irresistible.
On an intellectual level, Isabelle is even more appealing. She is the reigning Queen of England, beloved and revered by the people, yet seemingly unaware of the infinite power she possesses. With a woman like Isabelle at my side, there is nothing I could not accomplish. If I make her love me and she yields to me in all things, I could rule England!
The following day, Isabelle’s physician reported back to her after he had attended Mortimer of Chirk.
“I believe the elderly Chirk suffers from a malignancy of the stomach. It is doubtful he will recover at his advanced age. Though their living conditions are less than ideal, Roger Mortimer does an admirable job of nursing him. I left him a decoction of poppy to ease the pain and will order more.”
When Brianna returned to Windsor, Simon Deveril sent her a message to meet him at the stables. On the pretext of riding in Windsor’s vast park, Deveril led her through the trees to where her brother, Rickard, was waiting for her.
Brianna’s mother, Jory, had given him strict instructions to keep the knowledge of Warwick’s blindness from her daughter, but there was other shocking news that he wanted his sister to pass along to the young noble
s who were in confinement at Windsor, and to Roger Mortimer, if such a thing were possible.
Brianna dismounted, ran to where her brother sat waiting with his back against a stout oak trunk. “Rickard, you have news?”
“Most of it bad. The king issued a general muster for the Scots, but instead he moved against Lancaster. They took his castle of Tutbury where Marcher baron d’Amory was in hiding. D’Amory died in battle. Lancaster’s army met the king’s at Boroughbridge and was defeated. His fighting men deserted in droves and Lancaster surrendered to the king. The Earl of Hereford was with him, but he too was killed in battle.”
Brianna’s hand went to her throat. “Ah, no! How can I tell the de Bohun brothers that their father is dead?”
“I would do it myself, if there was any way I could communicate with them, Brianna.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t want you discovered and taken into custody. It’s difficult for me to communicate, but I’ll manage. Rickard, please tell me that you kept Father from going to Lancaster’s aid?”
“Father remained at Warwick. At the end of March, Thomas of Lancaster was tried as a rebel in his own castle of Pontefract by the king and the elder Despencer, and found guilty of treason. He was taken outside and beheaded on his own land.”
Brianna’s eyes widened. “The king executed Thomas of Lancaster? But he has royal blood—he is Edward’s kinsman. Queen Isabelle will be horrified!” A feeling of dread washed over her. “If he would kill Lancaster, he could do the same to Mortimer!”
“Exactly. A way must be found for Roger to escape.”
“No one has ever escaped from the Tower,” Deveril pointed out.
“I have an army. Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, has an army, and we are gathering more every day. Try to get word to Roger.”
“That will be the easy part. I have a way to communicate.”
“Brianna, I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this is. Have a care for yourself. Promise you won’t do anything reckless.”
“You have no need to worry, Rickard,” she assured him. Recklessness is second nature to me. It’s in my blood!
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