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.”
Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Captain Lionel Colby entered. “Lady Brianna, what the devil are you doing here?”
She captured Wolf’s hand to give her strength. “Captain Colby, we are betrothed. Have you any idea what it is like to be so close, yet forever kept apart?”
Colby stared at Mortimer.
“It is a secret betrothal. I hope we can rely on your discretion, Captain,” Wolf said calmly.
“I’ll turn a blind eye to an occasional visit.”
“I am indebted to you, Captain.”
“Indeed you are. Say your good nights—I’ll wait outside.”
Brianna was stunned. “He’s willing to keep quiet and let me visit you again?”
Wolf touched her cheek. “Little innocent. Females come to the barracks every night to visit the guards, and our confinement doesn’t preclude the service of a wench or two. Now that John de Bohun is an earl, he has to fight them off.”
Brianna blushed furiously. “Colby will allow me to visit because he thinks I’m servicing you!”
“You’re the one who said we are betrothed,” he said solemnly.
She thumped him on the chest. “You bugger!”
“It will give us a perfect cover, and I think you would rather appear brazen than go through that dreaded tunnel again. Brianna, I do know what it cost you to come tonight.”
You know too much about me…You can read my every thought. “Good night. I see no reason to sully my reputation by coming again.”
Isabelle was consumed by thoughts of Roger, and the following Friday she and Brianna returned to the Tower. It was extremely difficult for the queen to hide her impatience while she entertained Sir Stephen at dinner, but she called upon the skills of artifice she had developed dealing with Edward and the despised Hugh Despencer. A sweet smile masked thoughts and emotions that would shock the devil himself.
Brianna too played her part well, filling and refilling the constable’s wine goblet so that by the time Segrave left, he was legless. Two hours later she opened the door and admitted Roger Mortimer into the Great Hall. Then she turned the key in the lock and sat down in a comfortable chair, fully prepared to guard the lovers’ privacy into the small hours of the morning.
Isabelle stood awaiting him in her bedchamber. The moment she saw him, she ran into his arms. “Roger, I’m so sorry about your Uncle Chirk.”
“He was like a father to me. Escape was out of the question while he was alive—I had to stay and care for him. Now that he is gone, we can make plans for our future.”
“Our future?” Isabelle asked breathlessly.
“Plans for us to be together, my lovely. A future without you would be unendurable.” Roger spoke with complete sincerity. She was the most exquisite female he had ever made love to and she worshipped him. That she was also the queen made their union perfect.
His first kiss told him that she was ravenous, and he was wise enough to make love to her and satisfy her most urgent cravings before he discussed plans that would enable him to escape.
As she lay replete in his arms, he kissed and caressed her, showering her with whispered love words that made her feel cherished. His persuasive mouth and knowing hands molded her body and her will to his.
“The Bishop of Hereford deplores the misgovernment of Edward and the Despencers. Because of his years at the papal Curia he is a friend of the pope and of the King of France. He has written to your brother, asking him to give me safe haven.”
“France? Of course! I too will write to my brother,” she said eagerly. “Charles will receive you with great honor and offer you a place at his court.”
“If I go to Paris, will you promise to join me there?”
“Yes, Roger, I swear I will find a way. But how will you escape this stronghold? It has never been done.”
“Alspaye has access to a plan of the Tower. He has drawn me a copy. The Lanthorn Tower is next to this one. My cell butts up against the royal kitchen. A few removed stones would be all the space I’d need to squeeze through. The chimney of the kitchen’s great fireplace leads to the roof. With a rope ladder I can scale down the outer bailey wall to the wharf.”
Isabelle’s heart began to pound with excitement that there was a possibility it could actually happen. She knew Mortimer had supreme confidence in his own ability and was reckless enough to risk all to attain his freedom. These were the very qualities that made her love him so much.
“I know how. The only question that remains is when.”
“But what about all the guards and the night watch who make the rounds?” She trembled, realizing if he were caught trying to escape, he would be executed.
His arms tightened possessively to ease her fear. “The first day of August is my birthday. I thought of having a small celebration and drugging the wine, but my bereavement makes that seem inappropriate.”
“August first is the feast day of Saint Peter ad Vincula, the patron saint of the Tower garrison. There is always a celebration that night. It won’t seem at all inappropriate.”
“Then August first is a definite possibility. I shall think long and hard on it.” His lips brushed against her ear. “Speaking of long and hard, do you see the profound effect you have on me, my beauty? Let’s not waste any more precious time talking. This night was made for love.”
Brianna was awake and watchful when Roger Mortimer left the queen’s apartment and traversed the Great Hall. She stood to unlock the door and Roger stopped to speak with her.
“Thank you for your loyalty to Isabelle and to me, Brianna. I have a request, but will understand if you cannot help me.”
“What do you need, Lord Mortimer?”
“My son Wolf has an uncanny intuition. I would like his thoughts about a certain date. August first is a fateful day for me when
either good or bad things can happen. I need to know if that date will be propitious this year.”
Your gray eyes are identical to your son’s. They compel me to do your bidding. “I will ask him and bring you his answer.”
“You have a generous heart, Brianna de Beauchamp.”
Chapter 20
“Your father seeks your advice.” Brianna blurted out the words so that Wolf Mortimer would know it was his father’s needs that prompted her visit, not her own. She was filled with chagrin that she’d had to return so quickly after telling him she would not be back. Her cheeks still held the blush put there by Captain Colby’s knowing wink when he allowed her into the building and boldly watched as she climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Won’t you sit down? You look ready to flee.”
She took the seat he offered. Isabelle had shared Mortimer’s daring escape plan with her, but she did not relay it to Wolf. “He wants to know if August first will be a propitious day.”
“That is Father’s birthday…a fateful day indeed.” He’s planning to escape that day and wants to know if he’ll succeed. Wolf paced to the window and stared out into the night. When it came, his vision was amazingly detailed. He saw his father and another man on the roof tiles of the Tower. He saw them scale down an outer wall to the wharf where men in a rowboat were waiting. The scene faded and he saw Rickard de Beauchamp with a small party of men and horses waiting on the Surrey shore of the Thames. When he saw the sails of a merchant ship, he realized his father would escape to France.
Wolf turned from the window and saw Brianna’s face was pale with apprehension. She truly cares about the fate of the Mortimers. “August first will indeed be a propitious day.” He closed the distance between them. “Your brother Rickard will provide the outside help. He will need swift horses.”
“Rickard can get horses from Flamstead.”
“Can you get a message to him?”
“I can give the message to Simon Deveril—Rickard keeps in touch with him.”