Lynx de Warenne ground his teeth. “Breathes there a woman anywhere in this world who can be trusted?”
Jory shuddered as he stalked from the room; her brother looked capable of murder.
Kate had almost finished packing Alicia’s fine gowns when de Warenne walked into the bedchamber. “Leave us.” His tone was so curt, his eyes so threatening, Kate dropped the garment she was folding and fled.
De Warenne confronted Alicia without preamble. “In the time we have been together, did you conceive?”
Alicia stared, knowing she was damned no matter her answer.
“Did you?”
She flinched as if he had struck her and uttered a half-truth. “I did, Lynx, but I lost it. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew how much you wanted a child.”
“So, it’s true.” The green fire in his eyes turned to ice.
“Damn Marjory de Warenne to hellfire!” Alicia cursed.
“Madam, it is you who are damned.” He looked at her trunks, filled to overflowing with the things he had given her. “I’ll see that you have safe escort to Edinburgh, or England or wherever it is you decide to go.”
Alicia stared at the closed door, two spots of humiliation burning holes in her cheeks. He was ending it! How dare he think he could do that? She wanted to destroy the arrogance she had once found so attractive. Well, he might think it was finished, but it wouldn’t be over until she had extracted her revenge. She’d go to neither Edinburgh nor England. She’d go to Fitz-Waren at Torthwald. “I’ll bring you low,” Alicia vowed, “and I’ll use your own cousin to do it!”
Marjory urged Jane to lie down. “You’ve had such an upsetting morning, I think you should go to bed.” “But I’m not ill.”
“Still, you should rest. You are very pale. I’ll stay with you, if you like,” Jory offered.
Jane conceded. “I’ll put my feet up and perhaps I’ll paint a touchstone … it’s very soothing.”
“Oh, will you make me one? Robert wears a talisman. Do you really believe they have magic power?”
“His symbol is the Celtic horse, which represents sovereignty. I believe the touchstone has the power to protect, but Robert’s destiny lies within himself.”
Jory searched Jane’s face. “Do you know his destiny?” She quickly put a finger to Jane’s lips. “No, don’t tell me—I want things to stay the way they are.”
“The wheel of life turns, Jory. Everything changes. How would you like me to paint you a divine couple representing the sacred union of male and female energy? It stresses each partner’s need for both independence and cooperation to enrich life’s journey.”
“That sounds perfect. Since the beginning of time people have believed in the mystic power of symbols. Let me tell you about the Roman phallic symbols on Hadrian’s Wall that Robert showed me.”
As the pair became absorbed in designing the touchstone they studiously avoided the subject of Lynx de Warenne and the unpleasant confrontation that had taken place earlier. It wasn’t until hours later that they heard a low knock on Jane’s chamber door. Jory opened the door, then quickly excused herself so that Jane and her brother could talk in privacy.
“Are you feeling poorly?” Lynx asked.
“No … Jory thought I should rest. I’ve been painting her a touchstone.”
Lynx took a few restless paces, then came back. He obviously felt awkward about whatever he had come to say. He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “You won’t have Alice Bolton to contend with anymore. She’s gone.”
Jane saw that was all he was going to say about the woman, there would be no detailed explanation. “Thank you for believing me.” Jane knew that he did not completely believe her, but he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. He had made his choice between herself and Alicia, but she knew that in his heart Lynx de Warenne did not trust any woman.
“I acted too harshly this morning.” Jane knew it was the closest he would ever come to an apology. He strode to the window, then came back to the settle where she reclined. “I am a military man, responsible for my own army. I am used to issuing orders and having those orders obeyed without question.”
Was he explaining himself to her or taking a stand? “I am used to complete freedom,” she countered softly.
The gulf between them was wide. If it was not to widen further, clearly they would have to compromise. Jane’s glance fell on the divine couple she had been painting, and she was struck by how closely it represented their union. Their need for independence was too great. They must learn to cooperate and start to trust each other before they could find any happiness together on life’s journey.
“I prefer that you stay at the castle rather than go back to your old home.”
Jane was grateful that he had not issued an order and she saw that it was a great concession on his part. “I’ll stay, my lord, and promise to do nothing incautious that could harm the baby.” They felt awkward and ill at ease with each other, but at least they were no longer quarreling.
“I am going to Edinburgh to see the governor. The time apart will give us a breathing space from each other. I never meant to make you feel like a prisoner, my lady.”
They were back to being formal and polite. When he returned they would have to start all over again. “Godspeed, Lord de Warenne.”
When Lynx de Warenne arrived with his knights at the governor’s headquarters in Edinburgh Castle, he was surprised to learn that Robert Bruce was already ensconced with his uncle. When his arrival was announced, Lynx was allowed to join them. One look at the Bruce’s lowered brows told him his friend was incensed about something.
Wearily, John de Warenne held up his hands. “I have enough trouble, Lynx. If you are here to report more of it, I might be tempted to slay the messenger.”
“The king has freed Comyn,” Bruce growled.
John de Warenne explained the circumstances to Lynx. “By the time I got your message that Andrew Moray had escaped, he was already organizing a rebellion in the north. Edward freed Comyn on the condition that he put down the rebellion and keep the peace north of the Forth.”
“Moray is a kinsman of Comyn for Christ’s sake!” Bruce cursed.
“That’s precisely why Edward chose Comyn,” John pointed out.
The Bruce still protested. “They’ll work hand in glove with each other. Comyn has his eye on the throne of Scotland for himself!”
“He’s not the only one.” John de Warenne looked pointedly at Bruce.
Lynx rubbed his chin. “I think Comyn has persuaded Edward that it is not safe to give the Bruce a free hand in Scotland. He has likely pointed out that your power will grow unless Comyn acts as counterpoint. It’s the king’s favorite game to set one noble against another; it leaves Edward conveniently free to sail to Flanders.”
“Damn you both. The things you say about the king border on treason,” John warned. “I don’t know what you expect from me, I cannot and will not countermand the king’s orders,” he told Bruce flatly.
“I want a formal complaint sent to Edward Plantagenet. Comyn shouldn’t have free rein in the north. The Earls of Atholl and Fife should be made wardens.”
“Your suggestion has merit; I’ll pass it on to the king,” John agreed reluctantly.
“Is there trouble elsewhere?” Lynx asked John.
“Has either one of you heard of a man called William Wallace?”
Both men shook their heads.
“I’ve a report here from Henry Percy that this Wallace and a band of ruffians attacked and killed Percy’s steward in the marketplace of Ayr. Percy issued a warrant for his arrest, but they failed to find him.” John de Warenne brandished a report from the sheriff of another county. “They couldn’t find Wallace because he was attacking a peel tower in Lanark!”
“Who is he?” Lynx asked.
“A nobody! No lands! No title!”
“I hate to point out the obvious,” Lynx said, “but a man with nothing to lose makes the most formidable enemy.”
>
John de Warenne seemed confounded. “When the king departed, most of the Scottish leaders had sworn their fealty, the armies had disbanded, and every main strong hold was garrisoned by English. I was convinced their cause was hopeless.”
“Never underestimate a Scot,” Robert Bruce said lightly.
Lynx de Warenne sensed a warning behind his friend’s words.
“I’ve an anteroom filled with petitioners and I’m drowning in a sea of paperwork. Can we talk later?” de Warenne asked.
Lynx was concerned about his uncle. He looked as if he had aged ten years in less than two months. Clearly, John de Warenne was far better suited to the battlefield than administration.
They left through a side door and the moment they were alone, Robert Bruce said, “Let’s get something to eat and I’ll fill you in on William Wallace.”
Lynx raised an eyebrow. “You said you’d never heard of him.”
“I lied. I’ve known of the king’s enemy for some time.”
21
Robert Bruce drained his tankard of ale and wiped his mouth. “I knew trouble would spring from some quarter, so I set a trap. When I took the baggage train from Carlisle along the western route, I expected it to be raided before it reached Glasgow. I wasn’t disappointed, though trouble came a hell of a lot closer than Glasgow. The packhorses were snatched at Ayr by a reckless lad called William Wallace.”
“You didn’t kill him, you didn’t arrest him. What did you do?” Lynx asked bluntly. He had no illusions about Robert, the Bruce would do what was expedient for himself, not the crown.
“I listened to him, I sized him up, I assessed him.” “And your conclusion?”
“Wallace is formidable. He’s a young giant. You are a tall son of a bitch, but Wallace must be six and a half feet He has shaggy, wheaten-colored brows and beneath them strange, pale eyes, lit with a zealous light. There is a wildness about him, a bloodthirsty ruthlessness that borders on madness. He wields a gigantic double-edged claymore as if it’s an extention of his arm.”
Bruce called for more ale. “On the other hand I don’t believe his cause will succeed. He may be able to lead farmers, shepherds, outlaws, the common people of Scotland, but the nobles and clan chiefs will never accept his authority. They enjoy absolute power over their own clans. They’ll fight when and where they choose, and accept orders from none.”
“You discussed an alliance with this William Wallace!” Lynx guessed.
Robert laughed. “You’re a shrewd sod, Lynx. I’ll deny it to the death, but we did explore a few … possibilities. The upshot is that Wallace supports restoring Baliol to the throne, which goes against my interests, so we formed no alliance.”
“No alliance perhaps, but I’ll wager you struck some sort of a bargain with the bastard,” Lynx accused.
“More of an understanding. He sure as hell won’t be raiding any more Bruce baggage trains.”
“But he’s attacked Percy’s steward.”
The Bruce shrugged. “I used to be the warden of Ayr but the king in his wisdom gave it to Percy.” He cocked an eyebrow and leaned in close. “I don’t give a shit what Wallace does to Percy, so long as he gives me and mine a wide berth.”
“It’s been rumored for years you have a secret pact with seven earls to put you on the throne when the time is right.”
“That was my grandfather and father before me. The earls change sides more often than they change their underdrawers. I put more faith in you, my friend, than all the earls in Scotland.”
* * *
The following day Robert Bruce returned to Annan-dale, but Lynx remained at Edinburgh Castle at the request of John de Warenne. Though his uncle had a hundred clerks and scribes, it was obvious the governor needed Lynx’s aid. Before he did anything, however, he had to clear the air with John. “Did you put Fitz-Waren at Torthwald as a watchdog over the Bruce and myself?”
John looked startled. “Nay, why would you accuse me of such? The last thing I want is bad blood between you two!” In actuality John had dangled Torthwald before Fitz-Waren in order to get rid of him. The young rogue had swaggered about Edinburgh, lining his pockets, causing him nothing but trouble. “Since I gave you Dumfries, I thought it only fair that Fitz get Torthwald.”
“It’s a pile of stone compared to Dumfries, but that’s beside the point.” Lynx wanted to tell John about the atrocities in Torthwald village, but knew Fitz could easily justify the hangings since his garrison was there to put down trouble. If he accused Fitz-Waren of anything, John would jump in and defend him. It had happened in the past. Nevertheless, Lynx pressed him with a question. “Why did you use one of his officers to courier a message to me?”
“Fitz said he had letters of his own going to Dumfries.”
“I don’t want him privy to my business. I prefer to use my own couriers,” Lynx said bluntly.
“Damn it all, why does there have to be this petty jealousy between the two of you? It’s only natural that Fitz be envious of you because you are the heir to the earldom, but I expect better of you. I know he has faults, but I would ask you to overlook them and settle your differences for my sake.”
You have no idea what he is, John, Lynx said to himself. You think him merely weak and envious, but I know evil when I see it. John’s shoulders seemed stooped beneath his new responsibilities, so Lynx kept his mouth shut.
John sighed heavily. “I’ve pouches of dispatches from all over Scotland I haven’t even opened yet, most of them reporting trouble no doubt.”
“I’ll go through them and pinpoint the trouble spots,” Lynx volunteered. “I do have some good news for you, John. At long last I’m going to be a father.”
“Well, congratulations, Lynx! That makes me as happy as it makes you. Are you married yet?”
“Not quite. Mayhap we’ll have a Christmas wedding.”
But as Christmas approached, Lynx de Warenne had no hope in hell of being at Dumfries for the holy days. So many complaints came from Scone regarding William Ormsby, the new justiciar, that Lynx went to investigate. The justiciar had set up his courts in Scone and most of the reports accused him of legalized stealing.
Lynx found the complaints justified. Ormsby was extorting money by levying fines on every Scot in a hundred-mile radius. If a man did not pay his fine, he was outlawed. With only a handful of knights, Lynx could do nothing but lay the facts before the governor.
Meanwhile William Wallace was stirring up trouble wherever he could and men were flocking to his cause daily. In Lanark, the sheriff, William Heselrig, who held down all resistance with an iron hand, was killed by Wallace and the English headquarters there were destroyed.
Lynx dispatched his lieutenant Montgomery to Dumfries for more of his men. He also sent letters to his sister, Marjory, to Jane, and to his steward explaining that he could not be home for Christmas, but promising that they would hold the festivities at the New Year, which was in keeping with Scottish custom.
Lynx was almost torn in half, wanting to be at Dumfries, filled with anxiety about the approaching birth of his child, yet knowing his duty took precedence over his personal life. When he reread his letter to Jane, he saw that it was filled with dire warnings, and orders that she must follow. He tore it up and began again, two or three times. Finally he simply wrote that he hoped she was well and begged her not to go into Selkirk Forest because it was crawling with outlaws.
Lynx’s search for Wallace was fruitless. The zealous young outlaw was fast becoming a champion of the common people and every household was helping to conceal him. Wallace was especially brutal with English priests and nuns, driving them from their churches with fire and sword, killing any who did not flee. Because of this, Lynx de Warenne began looking at the Church of Scotland with suspicious eyes.
The money to finance this uprising was coming from some source, and none was richer than the church. Moreover, the Church of Scotland had a network of communication with every diocese in the country. Every bishop had sworn allegian
ce to the king, but Lynx de Warenne was cynical enough to know that beneath their frocks, bishops were men like any other.
Suddenly winter arrived with a vengeance. Snow covered everything and the temperature plummeted to freezing. As a result all attacks and hostilities ceased. Both John de Warenne and Lynx knew it was only a lull; the trouble would start up again as soon as the weather permitted.
Lynx prepared detailed reports for the governor about William Ormsby, the justiciar, and what he had seen in Scone. Then he laid out the many complaints against William Wallace and documented many of his treasonable acts. Lynx also informed John of his suspicions about the involvement of the Church of Scotland. “Will you send these to the king?”
“Certainly the reports on William Wallace,” John said firmly.
“What about the justiciar?”
John shook his head, worry lines furrowing his brow. “I know what the king’s answer will be. He will tell me I wasn’t put here to spy on his English officials, I was put here to govern! Edward Plantagenet only wants to hear that those he appointed are holding this country secure. He won’t question the methods.”
Lynx informed John that he was going home to Dumfries for the New Year, while there was a lull in the hostilities. He pledged that he would return with enough men-at-arms to put down all resistance and restore peace to the entire Lowlands. “I’m going to ask the Bruce to help us. It might take some persuading, so give me a fortnight or so.”
It was the worst Christmas Alice Bolton had ever experienced. The holy days were an excuse for Fitz-Waren and his knights to indulge in a drunken debauch. The torches in the hall burned night and day as the men indulged in fun and games that ranged from downright childish to depraved.
They brought full-grown rams into the hall for a ram race, then made wagers on who could ride them the longest. When this activity palled, they turned their attention to the female servants of the castle and the girls from Torthwald village, who were considered fair game to satisfy the sexual appetites of the merrymakers, whether they were willing or no.
A Year & a Day Page 23