“The brat could be mine or any other man’s at Mountain Ash,” he told de Burgh, thinking the girl was blackmailing him.
Falcon said, “She had more good sense than to claim the child was mine, Gervase.”
“Then why let her stay?” he asked, thinking of Jasmine who was so very dear to him.
De Burgh shook his head and murmured, “It is hard for a woman with a child and no man. It is of little consequence. We have so much.”
Chapter 39
They heard no news of how William de Burgh fared before the commissioners, but rumblings of the king and his English barons were rife. If rumor was to be believed, an army of over two thousand had been assembled at Stamford in Lincolnshire by John’s northern barons and was prepared to move against him in war if he would not meet their demands. Finally in mid-June they trapped him on an island in the River Thames called Runnymeade and forced him to sign a document they called the Great Charter.
The Archbishop of Canterbury, the barons, and their learned clerics spent twelve days adding on clauses. John signed only because it was expedient to do so. He had no real intention of keeping it, and felt he could easily repudiate it by saying it was signed under compulsion.
King John now saw the need to gather all those who were loyal to him. He needed as many friends and allies as he could muster. He was always sure of Hubert de Burgh, the Earl of Chester, and his brother Salisbury. He now needed William Marshal as he had never needed him before. Thinking to please the king, the commissioners deciding the court case between William Marshal and Meiler fitz Henry decided in Meiler’s favor. John flew into a rage, overturned their decision, and confirmed the marshal’s claims for his hereditary lands in Ireland. He did likewise with William de Burgh, Lord of Connaught, John had the marshal’s younger son Richard as hostage for his good behavior, and of course he asked for William de Burgh’s sons also. It was an old and common custom and William agreed since his sons would be in the charge of their uncle, Hubert de Burgh, England’s justiciar.
William asked for a private audience with John, who granted it on condition he bring Estelle to the castle. Her immediate reaction was to refuse, but after deep meditation she realized that her fate and John’s were linked. Their paths ran together and they were not yet done with each other. It was as inevitable as a Greek tragedy.
As she and William waited for their audience, she observed her companion at close quarters. The dankness of their lodgings in London had done William de Burgh’s health no good at all. He now had a permanent pallor and in spite of her dosing, lung disease was ravaging him. She saw death in his face. The sea voyage home would likely do him some good, but it would be temporary.
Her thoughts skipped ahead as she tried to guess John’s attitude and his opening gambit. Would he use force or blackmail or persuasion? She was mildly surprised that the king spoke in conciliatory tones.
“Dame Winwood, Estelle, you deserted me in my hour of need. Have you no remorse?” he bantered.
From his life of indulgent hedonism he had become fat, the girth of his belly had expanded alarmingly, and his face was bloated and mottled.
“Allow me to offer congratulations on your son and heir, your majesty,” she said.
He beamed with pride at the small sop she threw his way. He is a slimey bastard, Estelle thought. He can see as plainly as I that William is ill, yet he will not offer him a seat. She looked the king directly in the eye and said, “May we sit down, sire?”
“How remiss of me. By all means be seated. We have much to discuss. It seems I too must offer congratulations. My dearest niece Jasmine has produced two sons to carry on the great bloodline of de Burgh.” He turned to William. “Would you be kind enough to carry a letter for me to the lady?”
“Of course, sire,” William agreed.
John’s shrewd eyes saw that de Burgh was dying. “Your nephew, Falcon de Burgh, is a strong, ambitious leader who generates great loyalty in his soldiers. Are you not afraid to place your sons’ lands and titles in his keeping?” William had already negotiated with John to have Falcon act as regent Lord of Connaught until his sons were of age.
“I have complete faith in Falcon de Burgh’s integrity. He is building his own castle at Portumna, which will go to his sons. We are de Burghs. We do not devour ourselves.”
Estelle winced inwardly. William was implying that the Plantagenets had devoured themselves. John smiled thinly and chose not to take offense, which told Estelle that the king wanted something of them.
“I have found from bitter experience that the best way to curb ambition and stop a man from taking land and titles unto himself is to give him his own to worry about,” the king said.
Estelle knew John would keep her. Now she saw that he also wanted Jasmine and that he would use her children to get her. Conveniently the king had a map and a scroll on his desk. “Let’s see.” He pretended to ponder. “Suppose I give Falcon de Burgh the towns of Meelichard, Kilfeakle as well as Portumna … and, er … the Castle and lands of Askeaton in Limerick near Bunratty, which you told me he had turned into a dock for your ships.”
“I am certain your generosity will overwhelm him, sire,” replied William.
“Deeded to him and his outright, of course,” John said magnanimously. “Same terms as I have with you, William—his sons hostage for proof of loyalty to the crown.”
Estelle knew Jasmine, knew that she would never agree. She thought of poor Mathilda de Braose and shuddered.
John’s eyes sought out Estelle’s. “You are cold, Dame Winwood. How would you like to return to your cozy apartment here at the Palace? It is being held for you exactly as you left it.”
She sat before him with hooded eyes. For all the years her daughter had been dead she had harbored a grudge against Salisbury and all other men. Now she let the hard lump of resentment melt away. All men were not created evil. Salisbury, de Burgh, even Murphy were saints when compared to this man before her.
“Estelle, you force me to beg,” the king continued.
“The private condition for which you treated me so successfully grows ever worse. I am reduced to the ministrations of Orion,” he said as a final inducement. “Will you stay and attend your king?”
She sighed. Whatever happened would be on his head. “So be it,” Estelle decided.
Jasmine knelt before a great trunk filled with the most exquisite material. She had haggled with an O’Malley captain who had sailed into Galway just this morning from Morocco. She picked up a length of black silk so fine it was transparent. Half-consciously she became aware of a shadow, a sudden droop of the spirit. Something must be wrong. She stood up and looked out to sea. The clouds cast long fingers on the water. On impulse she ran up to the nursery to check on the boys and heaved a sigh of relief as she saw Rick deliberately push a bowl from the table. It broke into three pieces of crockery awash in bread and milk. Mick’s hair was daubed with an unidentifiable substance that had been edible at the start of the meal.
Big Meg said, “He does it a-purpose so I’ll bathe him. ’T is unnatural the way the young imp takes to water.”
Jasmine laughed. “I often look between his toes to see if he’s growing webs.”
Big Meg scowled at Rick who had a tentative finger on another bowl. “An’ you, Rickard de Burgh! I’ll give your clod of a head a thump against the stone wall if you break any more pots.”
He pushed the bowl from the table and gave his mother a beatific smile. Her heart started a wild war dance at the child’s resemblance to his father. Falcon was at Portumna trying to get the castle finished. Was this premonition she felt connected with him?
Faintly, from somewhere, something threatened. She was restless as a tigress. She looked down at the black material she still held in her hands. Was its color significant? She closed her eyes and meditated for a moment. She conjured a picture of Falcon so detailed she saw the blue-black shadow of the beard he always had until he shaved. He was well. The danger was not to him.
/> It was more a threat to the power she had over him. A slight smile curved her lips. She had powers she had not yet even tried on him. She would go to him. She would test her powers. Tam would argue against the thirty-five-mile ride, which wouldn’t get her to Portumna until dark had fallen, but Tam was like putty in her fingers.
The Castle of Portumna was impressive even in the dark. It had massive walls with fretted battlements and two high towers guarding the gates. In the daylight she would be able to see its delicately carved arches, but now the things that stood out were black window slits and a great pile of stone that would gradually disappear as the castle was completed.
The only reason they were able to enter the castle at all was that the iron portcullis was not yet in place. Knowing she wished to surprise Falcon, Tam took himself and the horses off to the stables so their late arrival wouldn’t rouse the sleeping castle.
Jasmine made her way silently to the battlements. She had brought only one thing with her to Portumna—the length of filmy, black silk that had evoked such disturbing vibrations the moment she touched it. She disrobed quickly and draped the fine-spun silk around her body.
Jasmine looked up to the heavens. The sky was like black velvet strewn with diamonds, and the crescent moon cast a silvery light that bathed everything in mysterious shadows. She raised her arms to the heavens and chanted softly: “Earth and Water, Air and Fire, Wand and Pentacle and Sword. Work ye unto my desire, harken ye unto my word!”
Then Jasmine held out her hands and beckoned.
Falcon came awake with a start. What had disturbed him? He listened but heard nothing, yet he could not roll over and go back to sleep. Something compelled him. The night was still and warm, and its heartstopping beauty beckoned to him. He reached for his chausses and slipped them on, then he stretched his great muscles to rid his body of its lethargy and like a nightstalking beast stole up to the battlements. He blinked, not believing his eyes. Surely that was Jasmine silhouetted against the far battlement? He took long strides toward the vision, sure in the knowledge that no other woman but his had hair the color of moonlight.
When he was close enough to see her naked form through the black wisp of silk he stopped and questioned, “Jassy … how did you come to me?”
“I flew on the wings of night,” she whispered, adding to the magic of the improbable encounter.
His voice was a caress. “I won’t ask how or why, it is enough that you are here.” He thought to close the distance between them, but she stepped back into shadow and disappeared, leaving only a trace of silvery laughter upon the still night air. She knew he would follow her. He would even be drawn through fire or water by the magnet of her body.
He had all the advantages, of course. He had designed the castle himself and in his black chausses with his deeply tanned chest, she could not see him. Conversely, Jasmine could not conceal her hair, so it was inevitable that the game was soon over. He came up behind her as she ran across the lawn and scooped her into his arms.
“You chased me until I caught you,” she teased.
“That’s true. You are a wanton little baggage, Jasmine de Burgh, running about in the night unclothed. I flatter myself that I rid you of your inhibitions, but I don’t believe you ever had any. You are a Pagan at heart.” He kissed her throat, his lips traveling a fiery path up behind her ear, then his teeth found her earlobe and he gave her a love bite.
“I am a witch,” she said simply.
“Nay, witch is an ugly word. You are an enchantress; my enchantress. Last night there were herons and swans upon the lake. I longed to share them with you. I wished so hard for you that you have come.” He set her feet down in the grass, which was thick as velvet, and drew her hands to his lips.
“You’ve neglected me shamefully of late. I came because I needed you to tell me you love me.”
His mouth found hers. It was deliciously hard and demanding. Between deep kisses he pledged, “I love you, I adore you, I cherish you, I worship you.”
She sighed from the very tip of her toes.
“Lie with me beneath the stars,” he urged.
She stretched upon the emerald-dark grass and watched him remove his chausses, then he came down to her. The film of black silk separated their bodies, but it acted as an aphrodisiac. It was erotically tantalizing to caress her soft breasts through the silken material until he felt them grow firm in his hands. He drew in a great breath as his lengthening shaft brushed against the seductively slippery silk and their bodies slid together deliciously as he moved upon her. “Jassy, my love is indissoluble.”
“Not your love … our love, our love, my dearest darling.” She clung to him as if he were the source of her life’s breath, as if this act renewed her. She gave him so much passion and love and life that she needed him to replenish her. She needed his long, hard manroot to fill her emptiness with his own passion and love and life. Their joy in each other was so sharp and intense it was like pain.
After a long time she lay quiet, encircled in his arms as they gazed at the dark sky. They watched shooting stars and wished upon them.
“At sea the crescent moon can be used to navigate,” he told her. “If you fantasize that it is a bow, you will shoot your arrow directly at the sun.”
“My fantasies run along different lines,” she teased.
He took hold of her fiercely and pinned her beneath him. “Such as?” he demanded.
She traced her finger along the hard line of his jaw. “I always dreamed of a moonlight swim. There are so many things we can dare in the night that we couldn’t do in the day with the eyes of the castle looking down on us.”
“By God, you are a temptress. I think we were together in Eden.” His hand, which had been absently stroking her delicious bottom through the black silk, now plucked away the material and his fingers sought the tight golden curls between her legs. He dipped his head to kiss her there, then sighed, reluctant to leave so pleasurable a diversion. “Come, we’ll swim in the moonlight. I only hope I can fulfill all your wishes this easily.”
They played in the water like a pair of otters. They teased and taunted and touched. When she kicked him, he kissed her. When he splashed her, she bit him. When he caught her, she pulled his hair.
Howling, he carried her from the water.
“I believe you are ready for more demanding sport, Lady Insatiable,” he teased.
He expected her to bolt the moment he put her down, but she stood looking at him with an awed look on her face. “You are magnificent,” she whispered. She reached out to feel the great slabs of muscle that stretched the length of his torso from shoulder to hip. His thighs were like marble. She knelt down before him to worship him with her lips, then her hot mouth covered him and he cried out in ecstasy.
By morning they were both respectably dressed and took breakfast with the men. Falcon smiled down at her as he announced, “You can all take a holiday from the building today. I want to show off to my wife everything we’ve done here.”
Jasmine admired every stone of Portumna that day, never tiring of hearing the enthusiasm in his voice as he explained each and every detail of their future home. It was one of the last glorious days of summer, and they packed a picnic lunch and rowed out upon the lough. They found a secluded grassy bank. After the meal Falcon stretched out with his dark head in her lap, murmuring drowsy love words, revealing secret thoughts and exchanging love promises for the future as the bees droned about them in the hot afternoon sun.
Falcon felt the warmth of her thighs against his face, and the desire flared up in him as strongly as the first time he had seen her. He wanted her and knew she was well aware of it. “By God, madame, did you put an aphrodisiac in the wine? I feel as if I have sipped the philter of a sorceress. Did you use mandrake or wolfsbane?” he teased, showing off his knowledge of herbs.
She smiled her secret smile. “Ah, let me think, did I feed you monkshood or the deadly nightshade with its poisonous black berries?”
“
What does that do? Swell the size of my manhood?”
“Well, you don’t need anything to swell the size of your head!”
As always their mood of teasing turned deadly serious when they made love, and afterward he couldn’t understand her mood as one tear slipped down her lovely cheek. “’T is just that this has been one of the happiest days of my life,” she tried to explain, which only baffled him further.
That night she clung to him desperately as a violent storm erupted over them when the cold air of autumn clashed with the last of summer’s heat. In the morning he kissed her good-bye and promised to return to Galway in another week.
Jasmine had not covered two miles when the shadow returned to her. While she had been with him, Falcon had dispelled completely the vague unease that had taken hold of her. Suddenly she had a burning desire to see Bunratty. Tam groaned aloud his protest when she broached the subject, knowing as he listed the reasons why he should not take her, that in the end Jasmine would ride to Bunratty with him beside her.
Perhaps the threat of danger came from something unsafe about the great dock Falcon had built that brought ships right inside the castle walls. When she saw it, Jasmine could scarce believe her eyes. He had transformed the place as if by magic.
She was very weary from the long ride and frozen to the bone from the chill wind that blew in from the sea. She promised herself to come out later to view it all longer after she had warmed herself inside Bunratty. With Tam close on her heels, she made her way to the kitchen in search of hot food and came face to face with Morganna and her child. In that instant Jasmine’s world crumbled. Feeling faint, she willed herself to keep her composure. A voice inside her head screamed. Here is the trouble which threatens. But she was more than a threat; she was a reality. The two women challenged each other with their eyes.
Finally Morganna held up her stiff, crooked hand and spat, “You did this to me. I will bear your curse forever!”
The Falcon and the Flower Page 41