Notorious (20 page)

More than a hundred barons and knights were slaughtered. Badlesmere, who was found hiding at the Bishop of Lincoln's house, was hanged, drawn and quartered, and the bishop was removed from his Episcopal office. All the leading barons were issued crippling fines. The nobles of England were bullied by threats and penalties and the harsh tyranny of the king increased to such an alarming degree that none dared to cross his will.

When the Earl of Pembroke protested Edward's savagery and injustice, the king turned on him because he had urged the Despencers' exile. Edward demanded that he pledge his body, his land, and all his goods to obey the king and not ally with his enemies.

At Warwick, Jory de Beauchamp had taken over the account books because of her husband's increasing blindness. When she received notice of a huge fine, she kept the upsetting news from Warwick and paid the twenty thousand pounds quietly.

Edward made the elder Despencer an Earl of the Realm, and bestowed upon Hugh all the confiscated lands of Marcher barons d'Amory and Audley. He gave him the lordship of Gower and made him the unopposed ruler of South Wales.

At the end of May, Edward and Hugh focused their attention on the Mortimers. The king ordered that the Mortimers be tried at Westminster Hall for Notorious Treason. He ordered that all the lands of their followers be seized and commanded a review of Mortimer rule in Ireland, determined to uncover treachery and financial misdeeds.

 

Isabelle had gone to the Tower every Friday in May. She had entertained Constable Segrave at interminable dinners and looked forward to Roger Mortimer's visits with the anticipation and longing of a young girl in love for the first time in her life. Every week she had been doomed to disappointment, however. Finally, with the connivance of Alspaye and Brianna, the queen met Mortimer in the Tower garden.

She ran to him and pressed her small hands to his broad chest. “Roger, why have you not come to me? I have been desolate!”

“Isabelle, my dearest love, the risk to you was too great. Extra guards have been assigned until our trial next week.”

Her hands clutched his shirt. “I'll come to Westminster Hall.”

“No! I absolutely forbid it! That is why I risked this meeting today. You must not attend the trial and you must not come to the Tower. I want you safe at Windsor. Do you understand, Isabelle? You must show no interest whatsoever in the affairs of the Mortimers. Promise you will obey me in this?”

“I faithfully promise to do your bidding, Roger,” she vowed.

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Isabelle clung to him desperately, with her heart in her eyes. “I love you, Roger.”

“Je vous adore, ma belle.”

 

Wolf Mortimer indulged in games of chance almost every night with Windsor's guardsmen. At first when he had gambled with Captain Lionel Colby, he considered putting the man in his debt. Then he realized that if the guard ended up owing him a huge amount, Colby could easily arrange an accident to dispose of him. Shrewdly he decided to let the captain win. If Wolf owed Colby money, he would keep him alive in hope of receiving it someday.

Wolf held up his hands. “No more tonight, my friend, I'm in danger of losing my soul to you.” He threw down the cards, stood up, and stretched his muscles. Before he retired, he glanced at Simon Deveril and cocked an eyebrow.

When he entered his chamber, he crossed to the window and stared into the darkness with unseeing eyes. Tomorrow, his father and Chirk were being tried for Notorious Treason, and Wolf knew he must learn the verdict ahead of time.

He pictured Westminster Hall in his mind, but it was empty and he knew he was recalling it from memory. He knew he must give up his control to a higher power, if he was to envision the future. Wolf allowed his mind to float free, his breathing began to slow, and suddenly he was there in the Great Hall. It was packed with spectators and a long row of men in robes, along with the king and the two Despencers who were sitting in judgment.

Two men stood silent in the center of the room. They had been forbidden to speak in their own defense. One was Wolf's father, his proud head held high, his gray eyes blazing their defiance. The older man was Mortimer of Chirk. He seemed shrunken, diminished; his body slumped with pain and the weary acceptance of his fate.

When the verdict was announced, a loud murmur went around the court. Wolf was not surprised that the Mortimers were found guilty of Notorious Treason. It was a foregone conclusion. Hugh Despencer wanted a guilty verdict, and the king and his jury were avid to please him.

It was the
sentence
that Wolf wanted to learn. What penalty would the degenerate bastards demand that the Mortimers pay?

He didn't have long to wait. In an indecently short time, the sentence was pronounced:
Forfeiture and Death.

A gasp of disbelief rose up from the spectators, and with a jolt, Wolf found himself back in his chamber, standing at the window, his unseeing eyes staring into the black, starless night.

 

Simon Deveril lay sleepless. He was a Warwick man and the de Beauchamps were staunch allies of the Mortimers. He would attend their trial tomorrow at Westminster Hall and was troubled how he would bring himself to inform Lady Brianna if the Mortimers were found guilty of Notorious Treason.

Gradually, Simon became aware that he was not alone. Someone was in the room with him. As he sat up and lit a candle, Wolf Mortimer removed his black silk hood.

“How in the name of Christ—”

Mortimer put a warning finger to his lips. “Tomorrow night I will need a horse,” he said low.

“You would escape?”

Wolf shook his head. “I'll be back long before dawn.”

Simon thought it over. He had only one horse, but Flamstead would supply him with another if it were not returned. “I'll tether my mount in the woods by the river.”

“Good man.” Wolf snuffed the candle and disappeared.

 

On the day of the trial, Brianna asked Isabelle if she intended to go to Westminster.

“Absolutely not!” she said emphatically.

Brianna was in turmoil. She did not dare to think about the outcome of the trial, but her heart was filled with apprehension. “You prefer to wait at the Tower?”

“'Tis not what I want, 'tis what Roger wants! He made me promise I would remain at Windsor, though how I will fill the hours, God only knows.”

Brianna nodded. “It is the wisest and safest course, Isabelle, though certainly not the easiest. We must keep busy.”

“If I do not, I will run mad!”

Brianna realized the queen too was in turmoil and quickly devised a plan that would occupy them for most of the day.

Isabelle and her ladies spent the morning with the royal children. They played raucous games on the lawn, allowed Princess Eleanor to splash in the fountain, and then watched young Prince John parade around on his pony.

After lunch, which neither Brianna nor Isabelle could eat, the queen and her ladies went to watch Prince Edward practice his swordsmanship. After that he gave them a demonstration of his prowess with the longbow. When Brianna saw Isabelle begin to pace up and down in agitation, she suggested they take their horses for a long gallop and follow the River Thames to Runnymede and back.

When they returned to the castle in the late afternoon, the queen's other ladies went off to change from their riding dresses. Brianna accompanied Isabelle to her chamber to help her dress for dinner. Neither of them had any appetite, but changing clothes and going to the hall for the evening meal would fill a few hours.

When they arrived at Windsor's Great Hall it was abuzz with the momentous tidings of what had happened at Westminster. Like all hasty news it had traveled by word of mouth with lightning speed. The same question was on the lips of everyone in the dining hall: “Have you heard that the
Mortimers
were sentenced to
death
?”

Brianna went icy cold. She felt stunned, like a bird flown into a wall.
No! No! Roger! No, it cannot be!

Brianna felt disoriented. She stared about her as if she did not know where she was. The room tilted and then it righted itself, leaving her dizzy and nauseated. She turned to Isabelle, but she wasn't there. She looked at the others. “Where is the queen?”

“She was here a moment ago,” Marie confirmed.

“I saw Her Grace leave,” Maude FitzAlan told Brianna.

“Excuse me.” Brianna turned and made her way back to the queen's private chambers.

As soon as she opened the door, she heard sobbing. She found Isabelle facedown on her bed, absolutely distraught. “The news is terrible. I, too, am devastated.”

The queen sat up. “You don't understand…I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it!” Isabelle beat her fists against her breast.

“I
do
understand…I feel exactly the same way.”

“No, Brianna, you
don't
understand. I love him, I love him!” The queen flung herself from the bed, tears streaming down her face. “He cannot die! He must not die! He is the only man I have ever loved—the only man who has ever loved me! If he dies, I don't want to live!” She collapsed onto her bed again, sobbing.

“You allowed Roger Mortimer to make love to you?” Brianna's voice was a shocked whisper. A woman who committed adultery was considered worse than a whore in a brothel. Her husband had the legal right to kill her.

“We couldn't help ourselves…
We are in love
!”

Brianna sat down in stunned silence while the queen lay crying out her heart. Brianna's girlish infatuation for Roger Mortimer began to dissolve. Wolf's voice came winging back to her:
My father would not cavil at seduction. Be warned, Brianna.

As she thought about it, Brianna realized she
did
understand. Mortimer was desperate and Isabelle was an exquisitely attractive woman, who was also the Queen of England. A vulnerable Isabelle, starved for a man's affection, would be drawn irresistibly to Mortimer's powerful charm. The dark, dominant male was the antithesis of her weak husband, whom she had come to hate and despise. What other man breathing would have the bold audacity to seduce a queen?
Isabelle and Roger were meant for each other.

Brianna's thoughts swept away her illusions. She bade them good-bye with little regret, along with her naiveté. She was a woman, not a child. The world was ofttimes cruel, peopled by evil men, and it would take a strong will and determination to survive.
Jane was right—there are worse sins than infidelity.

“Isabelle, you had better stop crying and dry your eyes. Roger is going to need your strength to help him escape.”

The queen sat up and stared at her. “Escape from the Tower? That is not possible.”

“To a Mortimer, nothing is impossible.”

W
olf Mortimer, garbed from head to foot in black, made his silent way through the dark labyrinth of ancient corridors known as Westminster Palace. It was three hours past midnight and even the guards posted outside the royal apartment were asleep. He entered the king's bedchamber and stood motionless. All five of his senses were heightened, while he allowed his sixth sense to roam about seeking knowledge of everything in the room from the furniture to its occupants. Through the darkness he saw the massive bed. He heard the slow, heavy breathing that a drunken stupor produced, and his nostrils flared at the pungent odor of wine and semen. He touched the knife at his belt and unwound the heavy black cord he had tied beneath his doublet. Then he moved to the opposite side of the bed, away from the heavy breathing.

 

Before Hugh Despencer opened his eyes, he was aware of the prick of the sharp knife at his throat. Cautiously he opened his eyes and saw only darkness. He tried to touch Edward surreptitiously to awaken him, but realized his arms and his legs were bound tight. “Who are you?” His voice was ragged with fear.

“I am
Death
.”

“The Angel of Death? There is no such thing.”

“Angel—Devil—take your pick.” Wolf pressed the point of the knife until he drew blood. “The king sleeps like the dead—he won't awaken for hours.”

“What do you want?” Hugh whispered hoarsely.

“I want you.” His voice was cold, implacable.

“No! Please! I'll give you money.”

“Money is no good to me. I deal only in life or death.”

“Name your price!”

“Persuade the king to rescind Mortimer's death sentence.
Tomorrow!
” Wolf twisted the tip of the knife. “The choice is yours. Mortimer lives, or you die. I shall be back to collect you tomorrow night, Hugh Despencer.” He let the silence stretch out for a full minute. “No, I can read your thoughts. I will elude any guard you set for me, as I did tonight. I am invisible. Only those who are about to die can see me.
Bon nuit
, I quite enjoy these nocturnal visits.”

 

The next day, King Edward commuted the Mortimers' death sentence to perpetual imprisonment in the Tower. All were astonished and offered their own reasons for this change of heart. Many said it must have been Pembroke's doing, but others who had been present when the Mortimers surrendered said King Edward was afraid of the curse Roger Mortimer had put on him that day.

The news swept from Westminster to Windsor and beyond like wildfire, and it was on everyone's tongue.

The queen felt elation and despair at the same time. “Brianna, I am so relieved that the horrific death sentence has been lifted, but my heart is filled with anguish to think he must remain trapped in the Tower.”

“My emotions mirror yours exactly, Isabelle. We must hold on to our hope and never let go. Traps can be sprung.”

“I must take Roger the news.”

“No, Isabelle. Alspaye will have heard the news and brought word to him. The Tower will be abuzz with it. It will be best to stay away until things settle down.”

Brianna wanted to get the news of Mortimer's commuted sentence to Wolf and Edmund as soon as possible. She knew it would be cruel to keep them in ignorance for even one day. But as the afternoon shadows lengthened and twilight fell, she knew she could not face entering the dark, musty underground passage behind the altar in the chapel. She sent up a prayer that Mortimer's sons would hear it from their guards, and cursed herself for a coward.

 

The following week Marie received word that Pembroke was ailing. She left court immediately and returned to her husband's wealthy estate in Surrey. A few days later Brianna and Isabelle visited the Tower of London.

Brianna went directly to the Royal Wardrobe and let herself in with her key. She knew Gerard Alspaye would meet her there. It was a safe haven where they could talk.

“Mortimer of Chirk is dying. Roger made a special request to Constable Segrave for the Bishop of Hereford to administer the last rites. We are expecting him any hour.”

Brianna clenched impotent fists. Mortimer of Chirk had been most gallant to her when they met at Warwick. “The trial was too much for him. How cruelly ironic to have his death sentence removed, then die a short time later.” She crossed herself. “If it is at all possible, Gerard, could you bring the Bishop of Hereford to the queen's apartment?”

“I'll see what I can do, Lady Brianna.”

When she told Isabelle that Roger's elderly uncle was near death, the queen became visibly upset. “Living in a cramped cell with not enough food to sustain him has hastened his death. Oh, dear Lord God, I don't want Roger to die in this accursed place!”

“Roger Mortimer is a survivor, Isabelle. He is a man at the peak of his strength. We must arrange for his escape.”

“I love him so much, I would do
anything
to save him.”

 

When Adam Orleton, the Bishop of Hereford, arrived he had two priests with him. Constable Segrave welcomed them and accompanied them to the Lanthorn Tower where he unlocked the Mortimers' cell door and ushered them inside.

Roger shook Segrave's hand. “I thank you, Sir Stephen, for your kindness in this matter. I am forever in your debt.”

Chirk was still alive, and the constable stepped back and watched the bishop and priests give the old man the last rites.

Adam Orleton approached Segrave and lowered his voice. “We will keep the death watch. It won't be a protracted period of time before he meets his Maker. When it is all over, we will take Mortimer of Chirk's body back to his lands in the Welsh Borders for burial.”

Segrave, realizing he would be relieved of a troublesome burden, summoned his sublieutenant and ordered him to plenish suitable accommodation for the Bishop of Hereford and his priests.

Mortimer of Chirk died that evening. Two hours later, Brianna opened the door of the queen's apartment and admitted Adam Orleton. “Your Grace, the vigil is over. Chirk has passed. Tomorrow we will take him to his final resting place at Wigmore Abbey.”

“Thank you for your loyalty, Bishop Orleton…Adam. My thoughts and my fears are now centered on Lord Mortimer.”

“Do not fear unduly, Your Grace. I am his close friend and ally. He has told me you are interested in his welfare.”

Brianna feared they must not tarry, and spoke quickly. “Bishop Orleton, Rickard de Beauchamp is my brother.”

“Lady Brianna, it is my pleasure to meet you. Your brother and I are in close contact. Plans are afoot to aid the Border Lord on the outside, once he is free of these walls. Now what is needed is aid on the inside.”

“I will do everything in my power, Adam. I swear it,” Isabelle vowed passionately.

“Be guided by Roger in all things. I charge you both, do not take unnecessary risks.”

Brianna cautiously opened the door and beckoned Gerard Alspaye to take the bishop back to his chamber.

Isabelle paced the room restlessly. “I don't think I can stay here tonight. The sadness is so oppressive, it is making me feel ill and my head aches vilely.”

“The oarsmen sleep aboard your barge. If we hurry, we can catch the tide and be back at Windsor by midnight.”

 

At Windsor, Brianna left the queen's apartment and sought her own chamber. She stared at her bed and knew she would not be able to sleep. Her emotions swirled in a maelstrom, filling her with a restless energy that cried out for release. Sorrow mingled with anger over injustice for the Mortimers, and frustration that she could do nothing to right the wrong filled her with misery. At the same time a small glimmer of hope that Roger might be able to escape from the Tower refused to die. Above all, a feeling of longing made her heart ache and she knew the cure was Wolf Mortimer. Yet fear kept her from seeking him out.

Fortune favors the bold!
How often she had heard her father say those words. Disgust at her own cowardice compelled her to try to conquer her fear. Quickly, before she could change her mind, Brianna took the black cloak from her wardrobe and pulled up the hood to cover her hair.

Outside, she kept close to the buildings until she reached the Lower Ward. Then she crossed over and entered the ancient chapel. When she opened the door, her nostrils were assailed by the unique smell that permeated all places of religion. The odor, a combination of wax, incense, and must, made her shudder.

She walked down the dimly lit knave, counting her steps to occupy her mind and keep her fear at bay. When she reached the altar, she took one of the lit tapers from its holder and with determined resolution made her way behind the altar. As she approached the door in the wall her hand was shaking, but she was oblivious of the hot wax that dripped onto her skin.

As she stood before the door, her courage faltered and her knees felt like wet linen. She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.
Do it now!
She opened the door and felt her throat tighten as the dark void loomed before her. She shielded the taper's flame with her hand, terrified that it would go out, as she forced her feet to descend the stone steps.

The passage was narrow and as a cobweb brushed against her cheek, Brianna felt trapped. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She fought the panic with determination and told herself there was plenty of air—it was her fear that was making her throat close.

She noticed that the floor beneath her feet sloped upward, and hope kindled that she would soon reach the end of the dank passage. She lifted the taper high, and stared in dismay at the wall before her. There was no door! She pushed against the wall with one hand, but nothing happened. She set the taper on the floor and was engulfed in blackness as the flame snuffed out.

Her heartbeat hammered inside her ears and she stifled a scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Slowly, determinedly, Brianna gathered her scattered thoughts.
There is a way out, and I will find it!

She sank to her knees and put both her hands on the wall in front of her. As she pressed, it moved sideways and a section of wall slid into itself, leaving a narrow opening. Relief flooded over her as she squeezed through, but immediately she came up against another barrier that blocked her way.

She was assaulted by the pungent odor of ale, and as she reached out in the darkness, her hands came in contact with the familiar shape of barrels, stacked one upon another. Her fear began to dissolve and she fought the impulse to laugh as she realized she was in a storage room.

Brianna stood still until she caught her breath, and as she breathed deeply a small measure of calm returned. With caution, she maneuvered around the obstacles in the room and located the door. She found herself in a dimly lit hall with many doors and a staircase at each end.

She ascended the stairs that were closest to her and found another hall. She was thankful that this one was carpeted and would muffle her footsteps, but she now faced another dilemma.
Which chamber belongs to Wolf Mortimer?

Brianna had no choice but to let instinct guide her. She noticed that only one door showed light beneath it and decided to take a chance. As she reached out, it swung silently open and she found herself staring into fierce gray eyes.

A powerful hand pulled her into the room and the door swung closed. She saw a muscle tick in his jaw, then saw his eyes cloud momentarily with sorrow as he realized what had brought her. “When?” he asked.

“Tonight. Wolf, I'm so sorry.” She slipped her arms about him to comfort him. She felt his strength seep into her and it was Brianna who received comfort. Her cheek was pressed against his chest and when she felt his steady heartbeat, her agitation began to dissolve and was replaced by Wolf's quiet calm.

When she stopped shaking, he took her hands and held them tightly. “His suffering is over.”

“The Bishop of Hereford gave him the last rites and will take him to Wigmore Abbey for burial.”

“Adam Orleton is Chirk's son.”

Her eyes widened. “How hard tonight must have been for him.”

“To a Mortimer, life without freedom is not worth living. Adam will take comfort that his father is now free.”

“The queen and I had a chance to speak privately with him. Orleton and my brother Rickard are making plans to aid your father's escape, once he is free of the Tower.”

“He will need help on the inside, as well as the outside.”

“He has made an ally of his gaoler, Gerard Alspaye, and the queen vows she will do all in her power to help your father.”

“He has become her lover.”

Brianna withdrew her hands from his. “How can you know that?”

“I know my father. Isabelle is his greatest asset.” He searched her face. “You are shocked that men and women use each other. You are a true innocent, Brianna.”

She raised her chin. “I am becoming less so with every day that dawns.”