The evening after a victory in battle was always given over to celebration and feasting. The halls of Dunbar Castle rang with revelry as barrels of ale and casks of malt whisky were rolled up from its cellars that now overflowed with prisoners. In his campaign tent, Lynx de Warenne felt weary and jaded, not filled with the glory that usually accompanied victory.
What the hell is the matter with me? he wondered. Alicia’s words came back to him: “War is your life,” she had said matter-of-factly, and Lynx could not deny it. He tried to envision his future and what lay before him. After Scotland was subdued, France would become the next military challenge.
Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. Lynx wanted more. He hungered for something. He did not quite know what it was, but he knew he would not find it fighting battles in France. Lynx closed his eyes to banish the thought of war, but pictures of the atrocities he had witnessed in the streets of Berwick rose up to haunt him. Children had been squandered, their lives snuffed out like wax candles. Nothing in this world was more precious than a child; he would sell his soul for one of his own.
Edward Plantagenet rode hotfoot from Berwick, regretful that he had missed the decisive battle that would eventually place Scotland firmly in his hands. In Dunbar’s great hall, he had the prisoners brought before him, one by one, from the dungeons so he could have a look at them. But more importantly so he could receive their submission as they bent the knee to him and swore their fealty.
As was his practice, Edward sent the prisoners to England to be held at Hertford. Until recently the wealthy and powerful de Clares had kept his prisoners secure. Now he would charge his new son-in-law, Monthermer, with their security and test the man’s mettle.
Earl Patrick, restored to his castle of Dunbar, arranged a great feast to celebrate the victory. Edward Plantagenet drank a toast to his supreme commander, John de Warenne. “You have done well, John. I knew when I chose you to head the army, I picked the best man for the job. You and I were taught by the master himself, Simon de Montfort. A cautious general is slow in the pursuit of a retreating enemy; a great general strikes as hard when his foe is beaten as when the battle is still undecided.”
“Sire, we could not have trapped the Scottish army without the quick and decisive action of Robert Bruce.” John de Warenne lifted his goblet to Robert, who stood at his shoulder. “I recommend that you reconfirm his lordship of Annandale immediately.”
“If I remember correctly, I said I would consider that once Baliol was captured and deposed,” Edward said coldly.
Robert Bruce looked the King of England straight in the eye. “Once Baliol is deposed I shall put in my claim for the throne of Scotland, not just Annandale.”
Silence hung in the air as Celtic black eyes stared into Plantagenet blue. “Do you think we have naught to do but win kingdoms for you?” the king demanded.
Sensing hostilities, Lynx stepped to the side of his friend Robert, while John de Warenne summoned all of his diplomatic skills and addressed the king.
“Majesty, your next strategic goal is the city of Edinburgh. We must force the surrender of every castle that lies before us, namely, Roxburgh, Jedburgh, Dumbarton, then Edinburgh. From there it is but a short distance to Stirling. I predict your triumphant progress through Aberdeen and Banff all the way to Elgin will be cluttered with Scots nobles hastening to offer their allegiance. The only danger is that the scattered army will regroup behind us and take back the southern and western marches as we move north.”
Edward Plantagenet saw clearly that he could not afford to offend Robert Bruce. He needed the powerful earl to protect his back. “You are a great strategist, John, so I leave the matter entirely in your capable hands. And, as you suggest, we shall reconfirm the Bruce castles immediately. The western route between England and Scotland must be kept open to supply our armies.”
As the king moved away, taking John de Warenne with him, Robert Bruce looked at Lynx and the two men had a hell of a time concealing their amusement.
“Christ, there’s nothing like coming right out and asking for what you want!”
Robert gave Lynx a shove with his massive shoulder. Nodding in the direction of John de Warenne, Robert suggested, “Why don’t you try it?”
Suddenly, Lynx knew exactly what he wanted. He raised his head, scanning the crowd for John. When he located him, Lynx strode down the hall without hesitation. As he opened his mouth to speak, John de Warenne said, “I’m sorry, Lynx, but I’m afraid you’ll have to forgo bringing the rest of Scotland to heel. The king does not entirely trust Robert Bruce and wants a watchdog put on him. You are the only one who won’t arouse the Brace’s suspicion. There is a royal castle at Dumfries that will need a permanent garrison. Will you undertake the unrewarding task?”
His nephew answered with a great smile.
The next morning Lynx de Warenne rode south with twenty of his youngest knights and seventy men-at-arms. The rest of his men had been placed under the command of his cousin, Fitz-Waren. Lynx had put the matter to his men directly, asking for volunteers, knowing full well that most would prefer to be in the vanguard of the march to subdue Scotland.
When he suggested putting those who wished to remain under the command of his cousin, Fitz-Waren, there had been some dissension in the ranks, and Lynx realized with a shock that his Welshmen neither liked nor respected Roger Fitz-Waren. When Lynx discussed the situation with the two-dozen veteran knights who had chosen to stay and fight for the king, they assured him that John de Warenne kept a tight rein on his bastard son Fitz-Waren and that all would be well. The younger knights Lynx took with him could be used as couriers between Dumfries and the commander of the armies to keep him apprised of their progress.
The night before they arrived at Dumfries, Lynx de Warenne summoned all of his men together after they had made camp. He wanted no trouble once they arrived, and to that end laid down the rules making crystal clear what he expected of them.
“The people of Dumfries are not soldiers, they are castle keepers. We do not go to Dumfries as conquerors, crushing them beneath our heel, we go in peace. You will not make camp outside the walls; you will be housed in Dumfries Castle. We will all dine in the great hall, and at night, those who are not on guard duty either at the castle or in the town will sleep there. The knights will have chambers, two per room.
“We are a garrison, a peacekeeping force who will help the Braces patrol the western marches and keep open the main supply route from England to Scotland or, more specifically, between Carlisle and Edinburgh.
“Try to keep in mind that though the people of Dumfries are Scots, they are not to be considered the enemy. We want their cooperation, not their hostility.” Lynx deepened his voice for emphasis. “All trouble will be reported to me. If you encounter treachery, as I am sure you will, no lives will be taken in retaliation. Once a week I will hold a court of law where punishments will be decided. At all times keep in mind that you are de Warenne men. I will tolerate no uncivilized behavior. You are free to fraternize and conjugate with the females of Dumfries, but no woman will be forced against her will.”
When Lynx de Warenne arrived at Dumfries Castle, he ordered his men and the baggage train to wait in the bailey until he had spoken privately with Dumfries’ steward. Not one horse was to be stabled nor one wagon unloaded until the correct protocol had been observed.
De Warenne was gratified when the steward recognized him and addressed him by name. Lynx removed his leather gauntlet and extended his hand. “Jock Leslie, you have been steward here twenty years and I ask that you remain in that post.” Lynx’s shrewd eyes watched the steward’s face closely. When he detected no hint of hostility, he warmed to the man. “As you can see for yourself, I and my men have been sent to garrison Dumfries. I would like the integration to be as smooth as possible and I know for the most part that will depend on how you and I deal together.” By getting Jock Leslie firmly on his side from the outset, Lynx hoped to reduce resentment against himself and his men.
“I am at yer service, Lord de Warenne.”
“From what I have seen here, I find little fault. You obviously do an excellent job with the people you command. I pride myself on doing the same. Nevertheless, there will have to be compromise. If there is something I don’t like and want changed, I shall come directly to you, Jock. By the same token, if there is something you do not like, I expect you to come directly to me.” The corner of Lynx’s mouth lifted. “I won’t guarantee that I’ll change it; I’m reputed to be rather rigid. But I want you to feel free to discuss anything and everything with me.”
Lynx moved on quickly. “I have twenty knights, all arrogant young devils, but they will have no authority over the running of this castle. You are in charge, Jock Leslie, and have no authority to answer to, save me.” Again the corner of Lynx’s mouth lifted. “You might as well get on with your rat killing.”
When Jock didn’t quite take his meaning, Lynx waved his hand toward the bailey. “Start issuing your orders immediately. Tell my men where you want their horses and the supplies from the wagons. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to show me the working of Dumfries.”
During the next couple of days the men, women, and children of Dumfries satisfied their curiosity by getting a good look at the men who had been sent to garrison the castle. At first they were filled with trepidation. After all, these men were English and tales of the cruelties the English had committed at Berwick had spread to Dumfries. But when they saw that the commander was the man who had accompanied Robert Bruce, some of their fears were laid to rest.
Word spread quickly that Jock Leslie was to remain as steward with full authority to run the castle as he always had, and the people of Dumfries heaved a collective sigh of relief and realized their good fortune.
Jane Leslie was one of the few exceptions. She did not set foot in either the castle or the bailey. She had spent the last two days with her brother Ben’s wife while she gave birth to her fourth bairn. Judith always had long, difficult labors, but Jane’s voice and hands soothed her, allaying her fears and easing a great deal of her pain. Jane’s gentle touch was like magic and the soft songs she crooned lulled Judith to sleep between her bouts of labored contractions.
Ben had been careful to keep the news that Dumfries had a new overlord and garrison from his wife, thinking she had enough fears to overcome. And as a result, Jane too was blissfully unaware that the castle was now garrisoned by the English.
The baby made his appearance into the world just as the sun began its early morning climb up the sky. Jane bathed the child and put him to suckle at his mother’s breast. Judith closed her eyes in well-deserved rest just as Megotta arrived to inspect her new great-grandson.
Jane slipped from the stone house and lifted her face to the warm April sun. Although she’d taken scant rest in the last two days, the miracle of birth was such a stimulating experience that the last thing Jane wanted to do was sleep. She took the path across the meadow and into the trees. Her forest pool was a good two miles from Ben’s house, but Jane’s step was light, her thoughts all happy as she listened to the birdsong and kept a watchful eye out for the creatures who dwelled among the deep green shadows. The hour was so early, there was a chance she might see her magnificent lynx.
As Jane stepped from beneath the trees’ dark canopy into the clearing, a tiny owl landed on her shoulder and rearranged his feathers so that the edge of his wing touched her cheek. His soundless arrival always brought Jane untold pleasure.
Then she spotted her favorite little green heron, the shyest of all waterbirds. He flew to a low branch close-by and stretched his neck down to the water beneath in search of a minnow. “I see you, Crabby Bill,” Jane called, watching his head cock to one side when he heard his name. She’d first seen him on the mudflats where the river Nith opened into the sea. The small green heron had been picking up crustaceans and she had immediately named him Crabby Bill. Jane sat down beside the pool and closed her eyes in contentment.
Taking advantage of the early hour, Lynx de Warenne selected a small falcon from the mews and saddled his horse so that he could ride over the demesne alone. He knew that later in the morning Jock Leslie, the steward, would give him the grand tour, but first he wanted to familiarize himself with every acre of land that belonged to Dumfries.
As Lynx rode out across the meadows, hills, and dales, he noticed the paucity of sheep and lambs, noted the lack of milk and beef cattle herds, and saw that no horses grazed in the fields. He silently cursed Comyn for taking Dumfries’ livestock. Lynx was well aware that an army must be fed, but it was shortsighted lunacy to kill off an entire herd.
He wondered if pigs were kept in Dumfries’ forests as they were in England and urged his mount into the dense woods. Lynx saw no evidence of swine, but the forest teemed with game, both large and small, and he felt a measure of deep satisfaction that Dumfries was not hunted out. When he came to a clearing he dismounted and cast the small falcon, watching it climb high, preparatory to its swift descent.
A piercing scream rent the air, and de Warenne was knocked to the ground as a body hurled itself against him in an unexpected attack. In a flash, Lynx had his assailant by the throat and had rolled over so that his attacker was pinned to the ground. The soft body beneath him immediately told Lynx that his captive was a female and the long, flaming hair identified her as the girl who had annoyed him so much on his first visit to Dumfries.
Jane’s brows lifted in shock and surprise as she recognized the man looming above her. She stared into the fierce green eyes and shuddered involuntarily, sensing his savage masculine fire, imagining that at any moment he would start to lick her. She realized almost immediately he was not going to do anything as gentle as lick her. He was angry, prompting fear to rise up in her. “I … I pushed you so that the falcon would not kill the birds.”
“Pushed me?” he repeated incredulously. “You flew at me like a wild animal!”
“The creatures who come to this pond are my friends. It’s a sanctuary; I don’t allow hunting here.”
“You don’t allow? Who the devil do you think you are?”
She was reluctant to give him her name and struggled to free herself. But she was pinned between his muscular thighs. As her hands pushed against his chest, her fingers splayed across sleek, rippling muscles. She knew he was the largest man she had ever encountered, and as she lay beneath him the thought of his size and his power overwhelmed her. He could snap her neck with his bare hands. Her breasts rose and fell as she tried to hide her fear. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.
Her luscious breasts were so tempting, Lynx’s palms itched to cup and fondle them. His anger melted away and was replaced by hot desire. He grinned down at her. “Anything I wish. I am the new overlord of Dumfries.” The erotic possibilities of what he could do to her were endless. At the thought of her soft body imprisoned beneath him, his shaft hardened and lengthened in rampant need.
“That is impossible—you are English!” She said the word as if it were an abomination.
“And you are a Celt, I seem to recall from the last time we met. What is your name?”
“Sironi,” she said defiantly, using the Celtic name of a goddess that Megotta sometimes called her. Then she remembered she had told him she was a witch with strong powers over Scotland’s enemies. Summoning all of her courage she warned him, “You are not wanted at this castle. Great harm will befall you and all who dwell here if you do not leave.”
“Your Celtic prophesies make me tremble with fear,” he said mockingly. “I am not given to superstitions. You forget I am a Norman.” He bent his head to inhale the fragrance of her hair and his hard shaft pressed into her soft belly.
Suddenly she realized she had aroused him and her fear doubled. She hated him for the lust he felt and she hated herself for the way he made her feel. “Nay, I don’t forget you are a Norman!” she spat.
Lynx saw fear darken her eyes and it gave him pause. If he did not stop teasing he
r, his body would lose control and he would take her here in the grass. He had never forced a maid in his life.
“Silly wench, I should warm your bottom.” He climbed off of her and watched her scramble to her feet. “I warrant your talents are more mischief than magic power.”
Though Jane felt threatened by him, his disparaging words challenged her. She knew a need to demonstrate her power. She looked up into the tree where his falcon had flown and held her arms up in a commanding stance. “Come to me, Talon!”
The small raptor glided from the treetop and landed on Jane’s wrist. She stroked his blue-gray plumage with a finger and spoke to him as if he were a beloved pet, rather than a fierce predator. “You see, I am able to control him.”
Lynx de Warenne took hold of the bird’s jesses and lifted him from her hand. “You had better learn to control yourself, mistress, now that I am master here,” he advised her as he looked deeply into her eyes. Then he remounted and rode off without a backward glance.
7
“Lord de Warenne, this is my son Andrew, who is Dumfries’ steward-in-training.”
Lynx noticed the resemblance between father and son and invited Andrew to join them.
“I’m sure ye dinna need me tagging along. Actually the kitchens are in turmoil. There are not enough castle cooks or servers. I must go and solve their problems.”
“Put my Welshmen to work. There are some excellent cooks among them,” Lynx advised.
Next, Jock Leslie took Lynx to the castle forge and introduced the blacksmiths. “These are my sons James and Alex.”
Lynx quirked a brow at Jock, but made no comment. He was pleased that the forge was a large one. “I am going to keep you men busy. Many of our horses need reshoeing and our weapons and armor need repairs. I have armorers of course, so you will have to work together. If there are problems, speak up.”