When his possessive mouth finally set her free, Brianna lifted her lashes and smiled triumphantly. “I still haven’t kissed you.”
“No. That pleasure awaits you. I’ll collect the debt next time we meet,” he promised. “Sweet dreams, Mistress de Beauchamp.”
By the last day of July, Mortimer, Hereford, and the rest of the Marcher barons arrived at London with their forces clad in green livery and bearing the royal arms. They surrounded the city and the Tower of London, where the king had taken up residence. On August 1, Lancaster, Warwick, and some of the other barons joined Mortimer. The powerful Kentish baron, Bartholomew Badlesmere, of Leeds Castle, whose daughter was betrothed to Mortimer’s heir, allied his forces with Lancaster’s. All demanded that the king hear their complaints against the Despencers.
In a panic, Edward summoned the Earl of Pembroke, who was the head general of his army. He had just returned from France with his new bride, Marie de Chatillon, who was Queen Isabelle’s cousin. Pembroke immediately answered the king’s summons and then arranged a meeting with Mortimer and Lancaster. As he listened to their complaints, he could not deny that they were valid. The Earl of Pembroke was a man of honor, who had sworn his allegiance to the king, but he saw clearly how destructive the Despencers had become. For the good of the realm, he knew the favorites must go.
“Sire, the Marcher lords and the barons cite eleven articles against the Despencers. They have usurped your royal authority, they have incited civil war, they have perverted justice, they bar the magnates from your presence, they commit violence and fraud, and they alienate the king from his people.”
Pembroke gathered his courage and straightened his shoulders. “Sire, I advise you to accept the barons’ demands and make peace with them.”
King Edward stubbornly refused and dismissed Pembroke.
The Earl of Pembroke met again with Lancaster and the Marcher barons. Roger Mortimer stepped forward and, with his considerable charming persuasiveness, set forth a plan. “The people of London love Queen Isabelle and that gives her power. Her Grace wields far more influence in this realm than she realizes. If she will approach the king, supported by you and by all the bishops, and beg for the people’s sake that her husband show mercy to his subjects by banishing the Despencers and making peace with his lords, it would be difficult for Edward to refuse. The king would not lose face if he gallantly gave in to his queen’s pleas.”
Everyone, including Pembroke, agreed the plan had great merit. Roger Mortimer signaled his son Wolf, who bided his time until he got Pembroke in a quiet corner. Then he delivered the second part of Mortimer’s suggestions, which was far more persuasive, especially coming from the dark, compelling son of Mortimer who had the intimidating looks of a predator.
“My lord earl, I devoutly hope you can persuade His Grace to the wise course my father suggests. If the king does not banish his favorites, the barons will renounce their homage to Edward and set up another in his place.”
“Another?” Pembroke knew he referred to the king’s son Prince Edward Plantagenet.
Wolf leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “If their demands are not met, the Marcher barons plan to burn to the ground all the royal buildings between Charing Cross and Westminster Abbey.”
During the next week, Pembroke went back and forth between the king, the queen and the bishops.
“Sire, the barons are threatening to set London ablaze. They are ready to renounce their homage to you and put Prince Edward on the throne.”
“That power-hungry swine, Lancaster, is at the root of this. He has never supported me as king of this realm!”
The threats so alarmed the king that he agreed to give Isabelle and the clergy an audience.
Pembroke then went to the queen.
“My lord earl, many times I have begged my husband on bended knee to rid himself of his favorites, to no avail. I am willing to do anything to get the hated Despencers banished, but I doubt that Edward will even listen.”
“Your Grace, Roger Mortimer has united the Marchers and the barons. He and Lancaster have surrounded London with their formidable forces. The king has no choice but to capitulate to Mortimer’s demands. He will be able to save face if he accedes to your pleas rather than cave in to the Marchers’ threats.”
Isabelle caught her breath. “Roger Mortimer has done this?” A glimmer of hope ignited in her breast. How powerful he must be to bend the King of England to his will. He must have the courage of a fiery Welsh dragon to pit himself against the authority of the Despencers. How gallant that he is willing to risk all to make my life more bearable. “Roger Mortimer…Roger Mortimer.” She invoked his name as if he were her savior.
The audience with Queen Isabelle and the bishops proved successful. Her intervention allowed the king to capitulate. He summoned the Marchers to Westminster and icily agreed to send away his favorites.
The following week Parliament sentenced the Despencers to exile and forfeiture of any property they had accumulated. They also were forbidden to return to England without Parliament’s consent.
Without the wily and powerful authority of the Despencers behind him, the weak king was utterly deflated. On August 20, Parliament issued a writ pardoning Lancaster, the Mortimers, and the other Marcher barons who had risen against the king.
Isabelle could not believe her good fortune. She decided to go to Windsor and spend the late summer in her favorite castle. She would be with her beloved son Prince Edward, who resided at Windsor with his tutors. It was an excuse to get away from a husband she loathed. When she arrived she would go to the chapel, get on her knees, and pay homage to Roger Mortimer, a man more worthy than any saint.
Chapter 5
“Believe it or not, Roger Mortimer pulled it off without shedding a drop of blood,” Guy de Beauchamp told his wife and daughter. “The Despencers have been banished, and the Marcher barons have been issued pardons for rising up against the king. Lancaster and I left immediately, but the Marchers are awaiting official writs that their lands have been restored to them.”
“That’s marvelous news, darling. Isabelle will be the happiest lady in England.” Jory lifted her face for her husband’s kiss. “Roger Mortimer could charm the ducks off the pond, but beneath his velvet glove is a fist of steel.”
“Aye, beneath the polished surface, Mortimer is tough and hard-bitten, but it’s a damn good thing he is.”
“I’m going to miss Wolf Mortimer,” Guy Thomas said wistfully.
“Wolf Mortimer is an uncouth lout. I’m surprised Father allows you to associate with the arrogant devil,” Brianna declared.
“The Mortimers will be celebrating a wedding tomorrow.”
“A wedding?” Brianna asked sharply.
“Roger Mortimer’s son is marrying Lord Badlesmere’s daughter,” Guy Thomas informed his sister.
Brianna’s face went pale. “Wolf Mortimer is to marry?”
Jory noticed the alarm in her daughter’s voice and exchanged a look with Warwick. “No, no, darling. It is Mortimer’s eldest son, Edmund, who is to wed Elizabeth Badlesmere.”
“You look relieved,” her father teased.
“I am relieved for Elizabeth Badlesmere. Edmund Mortimer is civilized, which is more than I can say for his brother.”
That night before she retired, Brianna spoke with her mother. “Now that the Despencers are banished, I’m sure the queen will return to Windsor. Can we not go and visit with her? The gardens will be beautiful. In late summer, everything will be in bloom.”
“Your father has only just arrived home. I think I’ll give it a couple of days before I broach the subject. I too would dearly love to spend some time with Isabelle.”
“Why don’t you suggest we go to Flamstead? You know how the horses draw him. I don’t think he’d be averse to spending time at Flamstead, while we visit Windsor.”
“I must caution you, Brianna, that this will only be a visit. Much as I love Isabelle, being caught up in the intrigue, strife, an
d machinations of the royal court has lost its appeal for me. I prefer to spend my time with your father at our own castles. I have no intention of returning to court as the queen’s lady.”
Brianna gathered her courage and plunged in. “Do you think I could take your place in the queen’s service?”
Jory smiled. She understood perfectly her daughter’s desire to leave the nest, to spread her wings and become her own woman before she took on the role of devoted wife and mother. “You would make a perfect lady in waiting for Isabelle.”
Brianna’s eyes shone with excitement at the prospect. “You are the best mother in the world!”
“I’ll talk to your father. I’m sure he will be eager to visit Flamstead and we can also visit Lynx and Jane at Hedingham.”
“That’s a lovely plan. I can’t wait!”
At Leeds Castle in Kent, the wedding ceremony had been celebrated and the newlyweds had sought their nuptial chamber at midnight. The celebrations, however, went on long after the couple had withdrawn. It seemed that half of Kent had been invited to join in the revelry. By four in the morning, though, the castle had quietened. The villagers had staggered home, the inebriated guests had finally sought their beds, and even the servants had fallen asleep in the vast kitchens or the Great Hall.
A lone figure prowled the courtyard. Earlier, Wolf Mortimer had joined in the merriment, carousing with the best of them. He had been pursued by a bevy of females, taken a different partner for every dance, and slipped away for dalliance with more than one buxom wench. But as the night advanced, he grew more sober with each passing hour. Though Leeds was like a lovely mythic castle in a fairy tale, perched on the edge of its own delightful Kent lake, Wolf experienced an ominous feeling, as if a dark shadow had fallen over Leeds Castle, and he could not cast off the sense of foreboding that clung to the very stones.
He became aware of another presence and was not surprised that his father had come to join him on his lone walk. They fell into step in the darkness and without words Roger Mortimer became attuned to his son’s mood.
Finally he asked, “What is amiss?”
“I have a sinister feeling about this castle. Was it not a royal castle once upon a time? How did Badlesmere come into possession of Leeds?”
“It belonged to Queen Isabelle, but when the king made Badlesmere steward of the royal household, he gave him Leeds in exchange for Adderley Manor in Shropshire.”
“Since Shropshire is in the Marches, I warrant it was Hugh Despencer who wanted it.” In deep thought, Wolf rubbed the black bristles sprouting on his jaw. “The king won’t forgive Badlesmere, a steward of the royal household, for allying himself with Thomas of Lancaster. He could seek revenge and retaliate.”
“Badlesmere prepared all his castles for war before he joined Lancaster. He was ready for an attack on Leeds.” Roger placed a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “The danger you sense has passed. We have drawn Edward’s sting. Without the Despencers the king is impotent.”
“What makes you think they will stay parted?” Wolf asked.
“I have confirmation that the elder Despencer has reached Bordeaux, and Hugh Despencer’s ship was seen heading into the Channel. Edward knows it will mean civil war if they return.”
“Hugh Despencer has his own vessels, and is a master of the seas. He and King Edward could meet secretly at any port.”
“I’ll drop a word of caution in Bartholomew’s ear to leave Leeds Castle well guarded.”
The next day, Wolf took his brother aside. “Edmund, I don’t wish to alarm you unnecessarily, but I have a feeling your father-in-law may be a marked man. I sense trouble at Leeds Castle.”
“Then I had better stay here with Elizabeth.”
Wolf nodded. “Father is cautious. The Marcher barons will take their time withdrawing. When we get as far as Oxford our forces will likely stay put for a while just in case trouble raises its ugly head.”
Queen Isabelle had no sooner departed for Windsor than a secret missive was brought to the king from Hugh Despencer. The next day Edward left London and traveled to the Isle of Thanet, just off the coast at Ramsgate.
Edward embraced his lover as if they had been parted for years. “Hugh, my dearest love, I cannot eat, and I cannot sleep without you. Tell me that you forgive me, I beg you. It wasn’t my fault! The bloody barons forced me to sign the banishment papers.”
Hugh pouted sulkily and did not allow the kisses that Edward craved. “Swear to me that you will be avenged against the Marcher lords who took my lands and the barons who forced you to exile me? Only then will I find it in my heart to forgive you, Ned.”
“You know I will do anything that is within my power. I lust for revenge against Thomas of Lancaster. He has always thought he should have been king in my stead. He would like to see me deposed. He would like nothing better than to set Prince Edward on the throne and rule himself as regent!”
Hugh fed the fire of Edward’s hatred. “It was Lancaster who murdered your beloved Gaveston and he will not rest until he has done the same to me.”
“I will never allow it. I will protect you with my life!”
This time, Hugh allowed himself to be caressed and fondled. “We must think up a plot that will bring them all low, Edward.”
“I cannot think of anything save making love to you at the moment. You alone know how to soothe me. Let me love you, and then we will concoct a plan worthy of our enemies.”
Hugh plied him with two goblets of full-bodied red wine, then drew him into the bedchamber. He removed his garments with a deliberate slowness that was calculated to inflame the king. Finally, he stretched himself naked on the bed and watched with veiled contempt as Edward threw off his own clothes in a frenzy of need.
Only after much persuasion did Hugh roll to an accommodating prone position. “Ned, you know what I like, first,” he said coyly, taking the stopper from a flagon of scented oil.
Edward dutifully massaged and caressed his lover’s buttocks, though he needed no foreplay himself and was nigh to bursting.
Finally, with a satisfied smile of manipulation, Hugh drew up his knees, raised his bum, and presented himself for penetration.
Hugh was so tight. Edward moaned with pleasure. He had no idea why most men were attracted to females when there was absolutely nothing more seductive than the stimulating body of a young male.
Edward came hard and fast because he’d been forced to abstain for a time, and one ejaculation did not nearly satisfy him. Hugh was a master of manipulation, however, and knew exactly how many times the king needed to spend before he was drained of his lust and became malleable clay in his hands.
Hugh arose from the bed and poured Edward another goblet of wine. The king sat on the edge of the bed and opened his legs in avid anticipation. Hugh dipped his fingers into the potent red liquid, anointed the large, bulbous head of Edward’s cock, then handed the goblet to him. Hugh went down on his knees between the king’s thighs and licked the droplets of wine with his tongue. Then he took him whole into his mouth and sucked rhythmically, watching Edward writhe in ecstasy. As the king felt his orgasm start he began to swallow his wine, and it was the signal for Hugh to swallow the royal elixir that always made him feel omnipotent.
A short time later, they lay curled together in the bed. Edward had spilled all his seed and now it was time for Hugh to plant his own seeds in the fertile ground of the king’s mind.
“What you need, Edward my love, is a just cause to move against the Marcher lords and those other barons who have supported your enemies.”
“I was outraged that Badlesmere, a steward of my royal household, turned his coat, joined Lancaster, and supported my enemies!”
“You must take your revenge against the Kent baron and his family. If your cause is just, the people will support you.”
“The people hate me. They give their love and support only to Isabelle.” Edward’s voice was filled with petulant self-pity.
“The people are like
sheep, Ned. With a little manipulation they can be led in any direction. We must use this blind devotion they have for Isabelle to our advantage.”
“You have been blessed with a quick, brilliant intellect that I do not possess, Hugh. Explain how I can take advantage of the people’s love for the queen.”
“Badlesmere will have prepared his castles for war and will be expecting an attack on his main seat at Leeds. If you send an armed force to take back Leeds because you have restored it to Queen Isabelle, its rightful owner, Badlesmere’s castle guard will attack them. The confrontation will rally the people to champion the queen against Badlesmere. The outrageous slight to your beloved consort will give you just cause to take up arms against Badlesmere.”
“But I want bigger fish than Badlesmere—I want the Marcher barons and most of all I want that swine, Lancaster!”
“And you shall have them, Edward my love. When the bigger fish come to the aid of Badlesmere, you will net them all and punish them for the disobedience and contempt they committed against the beloved Queen of England.”
“It’s a trap!” At last Edward understood the plot.
“A trap that gives you just cause to be revenged against the enemies of the queen, enemies who just happen to be your own.”
“All I have to do is tell Isabelle that Leeds Castle is hers once more. She loves the place so much, I am certain she will want to visit before winter sets in. I will provide her with an armed guard as escort for her own protection.”
“Edward, your brilliant intellect far outshines mine.”
“My dearest Jory and Brianna…welcome to Hedingham. I was overjoyed when I got your message yesterday that you were at Flamstead and were coming to visit us.” Jane de Warenne’s face, wreathed in smiles, told them how happy she was to see them again. “Jory, you look exactly the same, not an hour older than when I saw you last, but, Brianna…oh my, you have blossomed into a beautiful noble lady, exactly like your elegant mother. It is no wonder that Lincoln Robert has not stopped talking about you since he returned from Warwick.”