The Falcon and the Flower

by Virginia Henley

  He moved over to the bed and put his arm about her. “Bess, your offer is most generous, but surely you have heard that I am pledged?”

  “I’ve heard different rumors, Falcon. Nothing definite,” she said, her mouth only inches below his.

  “Then hear it from my own lips. I am going to wed Salisbury’s daughter Jasmine.”

  “Ahhh,” she said on a sigh tinged with deep regret for what might have been. “I do understand, Falcon, truly I do.” She said it sincerely for she really did understand. Not only was it an exalted connection to link him to the royal family, she could see the irresistible attraction of the exquisite Jasmine for a man as virile as Falcon de Burgh. So fragile, small, and perfect. So innocent, pure, and virginal. Jasmine was indeed a delicate flower no male could resist.

  Bess touched his mouth with a provocative finger to trace its outline. “Well,” she said huskily, “we aren’t going to let whomever we are to marry spoil what could be a very passionate night, are we?”

  He flashed her a wicked grin. “Madame, we are not,” he said, pressing her back on the bed.

  Chapter 11

  The next day Jasmine made a tearful farewell to Avisa. Gossip spread like wildfire at Cirencester, and a spiteful maid had made sure Jasmine knew where her betrothed had spent the night.

  Hubert and his knights were departing for the Cinque Ports immediately so he could greet King John and his bride when they arrived at Dover. Falcon bade his uncle good-bye and led Jasmine, Estelle, and their packhorses south in the direction of Salisbury.

  He was so used to riding at breakneck speed that he could not adjust to the snail’s pace set by Dame Estelle. Alone, he would have swallowed the forty miles to Salisbury without even reining in to give his horse a breather, but he could plainly see that even twenty miles before dark would be an accomplishment. This did nothing for his temper, and coupled with Jasmine’s icy demeanor, his patience almost snapped.

  The ladies were hungry, thirsty, and tired, but de Burgh’s body was not weary, only his mind. He felt no desire for food, wine, or sleep. He craved action. The need for action pressed him on all sides.

  Jasmine was determined not to appeal to him to stop. She’d be damned first. Dame Estelle was just about to suggest they find an inn or camp where they were, when de Burgh said, “We’ll go to our castle of Hagthorn.”

  Jasmine and Estelle exchanged amazed glances. They knew they were close to the place they had been set upon and were wildly curious that de Burgh had a castle in the vicinity. Jasmine, however, would not give him the satisfaction of showing him her curiosity, while Estelle rode in silence shrewdly putting two and two together.

  Hagthorn was a small castle yet it had rich herds of beef cattle and sheep grazing in the fields about the castle walls. At their approach the evening watch ordered the drawbridge lowered immediately, and the small party rode across the moat into the small bailey. Eager boys ran from the stables to greet the new lord, prompted by de Burgh’s knights who were quartered at Hagthorn.

  Jasmine was assisted from the saddle with much bowing and scraping. An amused de Burgh took in the attitude of deference. His men had wrought a great change in the place, and he soon realized this had been easy to accomplish because the people of Hagthorn had been cruelly oppressed and were hoping for better treatment from their new master.

  The cooks began to rush about preparing a worthy meal and the servants all flocked to the entrance hall to greet their lord and lady, hoping to get a good look at them and judge for themselves whether their lives would be markedly improved.

  Jasmine was pleased to receive such attentions, for at Salisbury she was usually ignored. Three female servants took her luggage and ushered her upstairs, exclaiming over her pretty clothes and exquisite hair. They fussed over whether the master bedchamber was suitable for a lady, to which she quickly pointed out that she was not Lady de Burgh and would require a separate chamber. The women were so visibly disappointed at this disclosure that inexplicably she found herself saying “I will be Lady de Burgh, we are just not married yet.” Their smiles returned and she was struck with a disturbing thought. How many female servants were twittering over de Burgh at this moment as they ushered him to his bedchamber? Women, it seemed, were attracted to him as if he had a damned magnet in his chest, she thought with disdain.

  Estelle also was receiving her share of attention. Men were coming with hot water to cleanse the dusty travelers and other servants brought clean linen and wood.

  One of the women asked shyly, “May we know your name, my lady? We know the new lord is called de Burgh, but we do not know your name.”

  “My name is Jasmine of Salisbury and this is my grandmother, Dame Estelle Winwood. You say he is the new lord? How long has Hagthorn belonged to him?”

  “Since the day he stormed the castle an’ hanged that wicked Baron Belamé on a beam over where he sat at table. Between one mouthful an’ the next! Heavensent he was, like an instrument of God.”

  A shy young woman carrying wine knocked on the door politely then entered and said hesitantly. “Welcome, my lady. I am Joan. I was married to one of de Belamé’s knights until the early spring, but he was killed in a raid.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Jasmine, noticing that the woman’s clothes were shabby. Indeed all the people at Hagthorn were poorly clothed, the servants clad in no better than rags, in spite of the fact that the castle was well appointed.

  “Oh no, my lady, I am happy to be widowed by such a man. I was terrified that I might be taken by de Belamé or another of his knights, but since your great lord’s knights have been in charge here, our lives are improved in every way. Milord de Burgh’s knights are truly chivalrous. They live by the vows they took.”

  When Joan and the servants finally withdrew, Jasmine said to Estelle, “Can you believe it? He took possession of this place that day we were set upon. He told me there was a plot to abduct me and force me to wed for my father’s money.”

  Estelle said, “He took a swift revenge. Never underestimate him, Jasmine; he is tough, damned tough.”

  Jasmine said in awe, “But he stormed a castle and hanged its owner and returned to us in little over an hour. I wonder if he is a warlock?”

  “He never misses a chance to scoff at witchcraft, and yet … he may have the power and be unaware,” Estelle mused.

  Jasmine stared at Estelle wide-eyed and whispered, “He has always reminded me of the Devil. You don’t suppose he is in league with Satan? He seems to have a power over women.”

  Estelle said dryly, “Except the one he desires over all others.”

  “Perhaps that explains why he wants me so much. I’m a witch and a virgin. If he gets power over me, his strength and powers might increase tenfold.”

  Estelle looked at her for long moments and said cryptically, “Ah, child, if you got him in your power you might control the world, as we know it.”

  Two hours after their arrival a feast was served them in the dining hall. Falcon and Jasmine sat on a high dais. Directly in front of them at the head table sat Estelle and Falcon’s knights. A young man with a harp asked permission to sing a ballad he had composed, and Jasmine was delighted that they were to be entertained. The Countess of Gloucester always had troubadors, jugglers, or dancers in the hall, and Jasmine decided she would have the same when she became chatelaine. The young minstrel sang a praise to de Burgh of his gallant feats, likening him to a falcon who had swept down from the skies upon wings of vengeance and in a single swoop vanquished the evil that had threatened their lives for so long. Then he sang a romantic ballad about Jasmine’s ethereal beauty, and though she realized it was a song from his repertoire that could be adjusted to praise any lady present, she clapped with pleasure when he had finished.

  Falcon whispered to her, “You look so happy tonight. I hope you won’t be disappointed to learn that we will have to stay an extra day. There are so many things that need my attention.”

  She was surprised at his thoug
htfulness. Usually he simply issued her orders or didn’t consult her at all. She thought she could afford to be gracious for once. “I don’t mind at all. What things are so pressing?” she asked politely.

  “There are so many disputes, I’ll have to hold a court of law tomorrow. The shepherds and the cowherders are disputing territory. There are prisoners in the cells below whose fates need deciding upon, even servants inside the castle are vying for positions they held before de Belamé replaced them with his own slime.”

  “I see,” she replied.

  “Would you like to make some of the decisions, Jasmine?” he asked generously. “This is our castle, not just mine. You sit in judgment on the problems of the castle servants and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, surprised that he was giving her the responsibility. “I will do it!”

  “I also must decide which one of my knights to make castellan here,” he said as if voicing his thoughts aloud.

  Her eyes went to the head table and for the third time during the meal she watched as glances of admiration were exchanged, showing a strong attraction developing between Joan, the young widow she had met, and one of de Burgh’s knights. She leaned toward de Burgh and murmured, “Are you considering the tall, fair-haired knight with the mustaches?”

  His eyes held hers as he wondered if she had singled out his man because she was attracted to him. He answered somewhat guardedly, “I can see how Sir Rolf would appeal to a woman.”

  “So can I,” said Jasmine, teasing him.

  His brows drew together and he deliberately chose the ugly knight sitting next to Estelle. “Rupert there might be the best choice.”

  Jasmine’s eyes danced with amusement as she went on to explain her choice. “I think with a little encouragement on your part Sir Rolf would take to wife the young widow he is so hot for. That way you would not only get a good castellan, but I would get a good chatelaine for Hagthorn in my absence.”

  His brow cleared and he shot her a guilty grin that acknowledged he had been jealous. “Thank you for your advice, chérie. You are most perceptive.”

  “The people here are very grateful that you and your knights have treated them kindly.”

  “We are civilized, my lady, in spite of your misgivings about me,” he said, smiling. “I am pleased you have been listening to them. You know the old saying, The castle that will parley and the woman who will listen—surrender.” He took possession of her hand, his strong fingers curling around hers.

  She stiffened immediately, withdrew her hand, and turned to ice. “Please don’t touch me, it disturbs me.”

  He laughed and mocked, “That is no way to hold a man off, telling him his nearness disturbs you. Rather it would make him come much closer.”

  “I never intend to surrender, Falcon de Burgh. You will have to conquer me.”

  “I have already killed for you,” he said, looking intensely into her eyes. “I intend to have you at any cost.”

  She was the first to lower her gaze. “I am tired. Leave me be, de Burgh.”

  He arose from the table, stretched, and said mockingly, “Ah, chérie, would you like me to carry you to bed?”

  She stood so quickly her chair almost fell backward. “Good night!” she said, her voice dripping with ice.

  His hand shot out to take her wrist and hold her beside him. He murmured, “Lady, you will not rush from my side with contempt before everyone in the hall. You will act like a lady, my lady, or I will warm your backside here and now. They seemed to enjoy the entertainment with their meal. Would you like to be the encore?”

  She stopped dead in her tracks and grew pale. She wanted to throw the contents of her goblet into his face, but dared not. He was far too reckless and thoroughly capable, even willing, to carry out any threat he made.

  “Smile at me,” he ordered.

  Slowly, stiffly, she complied, and he escorted her from the dais with a possessive hand at the small of her back. At her door he left her with a parting shot. “Sorry I cannot come in, but I have an assignation with another.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again in frustrated fury. She flung into her chamber and slammed the door. “I could kill him!” she said through her teeth.

  “Admit the truth and shame the Devil,” said Estelle. “You enjoy sparring with him.”

  “I’d enjoy it better if I ever got the last bloody word!” she shouted, taking off her shoes and flinging them across the chamber.

  Falcon had purposely misled her about the gender of the one he had an assignation with. In actuality, it was with his knights, to tie up the ends of the business of running Hagthorn.

  Rolf spoke up quickly. “I tracked down the priest. He had been hiding in the village with one of the serf’s families since de Belamé took over eighteen months ago.”

  “Good. See that he’s moved into the castle quickly and begins his duties immediately. We want to restore the moral tone of Hagthorn as quickly as possible,” replied de Burgh. “Which brings me to another point. Rolf, if you fancy the young widow you are bedding you can wed her and become castellan here. But if you would rather escape her toils you may return with me. The choice is yours.”

  Sir Rolf spoke up eagerly. “I’ll stay!”

  “Good. I’ll also leave Rupert and Andre here and take you other two back with me. Tomorrow I want you to begin recruiting men-at-arms from Hagthorn and training them in earnest. I may have need of them shortly. William of Salisbury has been made head of the armies and intends to place five hundred mercenaries in my command. No doubt they’ll require a deal of training also before they measure up to my standards.”

  Rupert announced, “We hanged three cohorts of de Belamé. The people came forward and accused them of such horrendous crimes, we had no choice, but there are others whose fate we left up to you. One of them, the old castellan, swears he has information with which he will be able to buy his life from you.”

  “Did you find de Belamé’s coffers?” asked de Burgh.

  “We looked high and low but found nothing,” replied Rolf.

  “Then the old castellan must know where the monies are hidden. I have legal jurisdiction to hold a baron’s court tomorrow. I’ll decide everything there. I bid you good night.” He winked at Rolf. “I wish you joy of her.”

  Jasmine awoke eager for the day’s events. She summoned every servant in the castle to attend her in the hall. Clad in her richest gown and bolstered by Dame Estelle and the crystal ball, she climbed the dais to hold sway. She liked the feeling it gave her. Every eye was riveted upon her, every ear pricked to catch her words. As the cook related the event to her husband later that night, she said, “The room was so quiet, you could have heard a cockroach fart!”

  Jasmine, after a cursory glance into the crystal ball, held up her hands and said, “I see a wedding celebration soon. The lady Joan will marry one of my future husband’s knights and you will take your directions from her in my absence.”

  Estelle whispered, “Are you guessing?”

  Jasmine’s eyes sparkled. “You taught me one of the strongest tools of witchcraft is the power of suggestion. I have sown the magic seed.” She raised her voice. “Let us proceed to the first dispute.”

  Two enormously fat women stood before her, their faces bright red from the strength of the emotions involved. They were head cooks by profession and, as custom dictated, their bulk attested to the quality of their culinary ability. The first one spoke up. “My lady, I was head cook of Hagthorn before the evil de Belamé came here and set her up in the job.” She felt confident that she would be restored, as practically every other server of the dreaded de Belamé had already been deposed by the new knights.

  Jasmine turned her attention to the other fat woman to hear what she would say. “I do my job well, my lady. I am a better cook than her. In fact, I could cook better than her stood on my head with my hands tied behind my back!”

  Jasmine saw the graphic picture she painted and could no
t conceal a peal of merriment at so fat a woman in so ridiculous a position. “The meal we had last night was excellent,” decided Jasmine. “I see no need to replace the present head cook.”

  At her words, one red face beamed, the other looked as if it would burst. Jasmine added quickly, “I have, however, a most important post to be filled and feel you are an excellent candidate for the position.” She inclined her head toward Estelle. “Dame Winwood knows the magical properties of all plants. Go to the stillroom with her now and she will instruct you in herbal medicine so that you will be able to minister to the health and welfare of all at Hagthorn.” She had said the words that enabled the second red face to beam.

  Jasmine passed judgment on all the other disputes of the castle servants, most of which dealt with the pecking order. When all was decided, she held up her hands again for silence. “Which of you women are good seamstresses?” she asked. Half a dozen stepped forward and then four others hesitantly held up their hands. “I have noticed that all who serve at Hagthorn would benefit from new clothes.” There was a murmur of delight as she continued. “I should like all those who serve in the hall to wear a livery in a cheerful color, perhaps yellow or green, definitely not brown.” She had gotten the idea of livery from the Countess of Gloucester, whose servants were all uniformed. “Anyone who has a messy job to perform shall receive a smock as well as a new outfit of clothes.” She smiled at them knowing she had won their hearts. She decided that at the royal court she would assist the little queen to make decisions. Jasmine was acquiring a taste for power.

  That night the meal served surpassed the one the night before, and at table Jasmine told Falcon of her day’s decisions. Somewhat hesitantly she added that she had promised all the castle servants new clothing.

  He silently appraised her and when she thought he was about to refuse the money to purchase the cloth, her stubborn chin went up, her eyes flashed, and she said, “De Burgh, you are a s—”