Roger began at her toes and kissed and caressed every inch of her smooth skin. He licked across the soft flesh of her belly and the sensitive underside of her breasts. His teeth toyed with her nipples until they became diamond-hard jewels.
Isabelle had been starved for praise, starved for affection, and starved for a man’s love for so long, she responded like a woman awakened from a trance. She clung, and writhed, and panted with desire, inflaming Roger with a white-hot passion that was reeling and urgent. When she was frenzied with need, he mounted her. With one driving thrust, his marble-hard cock was seated to the hilt and he felt the hot pull of her tight sheath around his throbbing sex. She opened willingly, wantonly, yielding everything to him. “You’re so eager for me, you make me feel like a man more than any woman I’ve ever known.”
She gasped as his plunging heat made relentless demands on her, and the pulsing fullness inside her made her cry out her pleasure. Roger covered her mouth with his own and took her cries into himself. Isabelle became aware of her whole body from her tingling scalp to the soles of her feet, from her fingertips to the tips of her breasts.
She arched her body up to his and with three deep thrusts he brought her to climax. It was cataclysmic for Isabelle; it was a revelation that she could respond to a male in this way. When her last quiver subsided, Roger took his own release. She felt his heat and his power seep into her and it filled her with a soaring confidence she had never known.
He gathered her to him and held her in a possessive embrace until her body softened with surfeit. He whispered thrilling words of love that melted her heart and made her feel cherished. Roger knelt above her and brushed her disheveled hair back from her temples. He gazed down into her eyes with an intensity that made his face hard with passion. “From this moment on, you are mine alone, Isabelle!”
Roger was virile enough to make love more than once, but shrewd enough to control his lust, knowing that if he held back, her desire for him would become ravenous.
Mortimer felt omnipotent. He had just made love to the Queen of England and brought her to sexual fulfillment for the first time in her life. As he gazed down at her, he knew that Isabelle was the key that would unlock his prison; she was the device that would lead to his freedom; she was the instrument that would enable him to avenge his enemies and perhaps rule the kingdom!
Roger donned his clothes quickly and pulled on his boots. Then he knelt and touched his lips to hers in a long, lingering kiss. “Come, let me help you.” He lifted her to a sitting position and began to dress her. He pulled her to her feet and fastened the buttons that ran down the back of her gown. “It’s long past midnight—it’s May Day. You are the loveliest May Queen in England.” He lifted the mass of curls from her neck and set his lips to her sensual nape. “Be happy, Isabelle.”
She watched him leave, though every fiber of her being cried out for him to stay. I’m mad in love with you, Roger Mortimer!
Brianna opened her eyes when she felt someone touch her hand. She jumped to her feet. “Lord Mortimer.”
“Thank you, Brianna.”
Surely I didn’t fall asleep? She unlocked the door and handed him the basket of food. She had no idea what time it was or how long Roger had been with the queen.
She walked down the length of the Great Hall and entered the queen’s private rooms. She bent down and picked up the velvet ribbon that lay on the carpet.
Isabelle came out of her bedchamber. Her face was radiant. “Lord Mortimer is an incredible man. He has more courage than any man breathing. Though he is a prisoner, his spirit is undaunted.”
“He is indeed brave…and proud…His pride will not allow him to show fear. It is a Mortimer trait.”
“He is a man in a million!” Isabelle declared passionately.
Brianna sighed. She has fallen under his spell because he took a great risk to come and talk with her. Roger is the antithesis of the man she married—she is bound to compare them. “I will rest easier knowing his hunger has been assuaged tonight.”
Isabelle drew in a quick breath. “What are you saying?”
“I gave him game birds and wine,” Brianna explained.
Isabelle let out her breath and smiled. “Thank you. We will both rest easier tonight.” Roger certainly assuaged my hunger.
“Here is your ribbon. I’m sorry your hair fell down.”
Isabelle took it and her smile deepened. “May has arrived…It is a time for renewed hope. Go to bed, Brianna. I have everything I need tonight.”
During the month of May, however, King Edward with Hugh Despencer at his side exacted a bloody vengeance on those who had supported Lancaster. His widow, Alice de Lacy, and her elderly mother were imprisoned and he threatened to burn Alice alive if she did not turn over all her lands and pay a massive fine.
More than a hundred barons and knights were slaughtered. Badlesmere, who was found hiding at the Bishop of Lincoln’s house, was hanged, drawn and quartered, and the bishop was removed from his Episcopal office. All the leading barons were issued crippling fines. The nobles of England were bullied by threats and penalties and the harsh tyranny of the king increased to such an alarming degree that none dared to cross his will.
When the Earl of Pembroke protested Edward’s savagery and injustice, the king turned on him because he had urged the Despencers’ exile. Edward demanded that he pledge his body, his land, and all his goods to obey the king and not ally with his enemies.
At Warwick, Jory de Beauchamp had taken over the account books because of her husband’s increasing blindness. When she received notice of a huge fine, she kept the upsetting news from Warwick and paid the twenty thousand pounds quietly.
Edward made the elder Despencer an Earl of the Realm, and bestowed upon Hugh all the confiscated lands of Marcher barons d’Amory and Audley. He gave him the lordship of Gower and made him the unopposed ruler of South Wales.
At the end of May, Edward and Hugh focused their attention on the Mortimers. The king ordered that the Mortimers be tried at Westminster Hall for Notorious Treason. He ordered that all the lands of their followers be seized and commanded a review of Mortimer rule in Ireland, determined to uncover treachery and financial misdeeds.
Isabelle had gone to the Tower every Friday in May. She had entertained Constable Segrave at interminable dinners and looked forward to Roger Mortimer’s visits with the anticipation and longing of a young girl in love for the first time in her life. Every week she had been doomed to disappointment, however. Finally, with the connivance of Alspaye and Brianna, the queen met Mortimer in the Tower garden.
She ran to him and pressed her small hands to his broad chest. “Roger, why have you not come to me? I have been desolate!”
“Isabelle, my dearest love, the risk to you was too great. Extra guards have been assigned until our trial next week.”
Her hands clutched his shirt. “I’ll come to Westminster Hall.”
“No! I absolutely forbid it! That is why I risked this meeting today. You must not attend the trial and you must not come to the Tower. I want you safe at Windsor. Do you understand, Isabelle? You must show no interest whatsoever in the affairs of the Mortimers. Promise you will obey me in this?”
“I faithfully promise to do your bidding, Roger,” she vowed.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. Isabelle clung to him desperately, with her heart in her eyes. “I love you, Roger.”
“Je vous adore, ma belle.”
Wolf Mortimer indulged in games of chance almost every night with Windsor’s guardsmen. At first when he had gambled with Captain Lionel Colby, he considered putting the man in his debt. Then he realized that if the guard ended up owing him a huge amount, Colby could easily arrange an accident to dispose of him. Shrewdly he decided to let the captain win. If Wolf owed Colby money, he would keep him alive in hope of receiving it someday.
Wolf held up his hands. “No more tonight, my friend, I’m in danger of losing my soul to you.” He threw down the cards, stood u
p, and stretched his muscles. Before he retired, he glanced at Simon Deveril and cocked an eyebrow.
When he entered his chamber, he crossed to the window and stared into the darkness with unseeing eyes. Tomorrow, his father and Chirk were being tried for Notorious Treason, and Wolf knew he must learn the verdict ahead of time.
He pictured Westminster Hall in his mind, but it was empty and he knew he was recalling it from memory. He knew he must give up his control to a higher power, if he was to envision the future. Wolf allowed his mind to float free, his breathing began to slow, and suddenly he was there in the Great Hall. It was packed with spectators and a long row of men in robes, along with the king and the two Despencers who were sitting in judgment.
Two men stood silent in the center of the room. They had been forbidden to speak in their own defense. One was Wolf’s father, his proud head held high, his gray eyes blazing their defiance. The older man was Mortimer of Chirk. He seemed shrunken, diminished; his body slumped with pain and the weary acceptance of his fate.
When the verdict was announced, a loud murmur went around the court. Wolf was not surprised that the Mortimers were found guilty of Notorious Treason. It was a foregone conclusion. Hugh Despencer wanted a guilty verdict, and the king and his jury were avid to please him.
It was the sentence that Wolf wanted to learn. What penalty would the degenerate bastards demand that the Mortimers pay?
He didn’t have long to wait. In an indecently short time, the sentence was pronounced: Forfeiture and Death.
A gasp of disbelief rose up from the spectators, and with a jolt, Wolf found himself back in his chamber, standing at the window, his unseeing eyes staring into the black, starless night.
Simon Deveril lay sleepless. He was a Warwick man and the de Beauchamps were staunch allies of the Mortimers. He would attend their trial tomorrow at Westminster Hall and was troubled how he would bring himself to inform Lady Brianna if the Mortimers were found guilty of Notorious Treason.
Gradually, Simon became aware that he was not alone. Someone was in the room with him. As he sat up and lit a candle, Wolf Mortimer removed his black silk hood.
“How in the name of Christ—”
Mortimer put a warning finger to his lips. “Tomorrow night I will need a horse,” he said low.
“You would escape?”
Wolf shook his head. “I’ll be back long before dawn.”
Simon thought it over. He had only one horse, but Flamstead would supply him with another if it were not returned. “I’ll tether my mount in the woods by the river.”
“Good man.” Wolf snuffed the candle and disappeared.
On the day of the trial, Brianna asked Isabelle if she intended to go to Westminster.
“Absolutely not!” she said emphatically.
Brianna was in turmoil. She did not dare to think about the outcome of the trial, but her heart was filled with apprehension. “You prefer to wait at the Tower?”
“’Tis not what I want, ’tis what Roger wants! He made me promise I would remain at Windsor, though how I will fill the hours, God only knows.”
Brianna nodded. “It is the wisest and safest course, Isabelle, though certainly not the easiest. We must keep busy.”
“If I do not, I will run mad!”
Brianna realized the queen too was in turmoil and quickly devised a plan that would occupy them for most of the day.
Isabelle and her ladies spent the morning with the royal children. They played raucous games on the lawn, allowed Princess Eleanor to splash in the fountain, and then watched young Prince John parade around on his pony.
After lunch, which neither Brianna nor Isabelle could eat, the queen and her ladies went to watch Prince Edward practice his swordsmanship. After that he gave them a demonstration of his prowess with the longbow. When Brianna saw Isabelle begin to pace up and down in agitation, she suggested they take their horses for a long gallop and follow the River Thames to Runnymede and back.
When they returned to the castle in the late afternoon, the queen’s other ladies went off to change from their riding dresses. Brianna accompanied Isabelle to her chamber to help her dress for dinner. Neither of them had any appetite, but changing clothes and going to the hall for the evening meal would fill a few hours.
When they arrived at Windsor’s Great Hall it was abuzz with the momentous tidings of what had happened at Westminster. Like all hasty news it had traveled by word of mouth with lightning speed. The same question was on the lips of everyone in the dining hall: “Have you heard that the Mortimers were sentenced to death?”
Brianna went icy cold. She felt stunned, like a bird flown into a wall. No! No! Roger! No, it cannot be!
Brianna felt disoriented. She stared about her as if she did not know where she was. The room tilted and then it righted itself, leaving her dizzy and nauseated. She turned to Isabelle, but she wasn’t there. She looked at the others. “Where is the queen?”
“She was here a moment ago,” Marie confirmed.
“I saw Her Grace leave,” Maude FitzAlan told Brianna.
“Excuse me.” Brianna turned and made her way back to the queen’s private chambers.
As soon as she opened the door, she heard sobbing. She found Isabelle facedown on her bed, absolutely distraught. “The news is terrible. I, too, am devastated.”
The queen sat up. “You don’t understand…I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it!” Isabelle beat her fists against her breast.
“I do understand…I feel exactly the same way.”
“No, Brianna, you don’t understand. I love him, I love him!” The queen flung herself from the bed, tears streaming down her face. “He cannot die! He must not die! He is the only man I have ever loved—the only man who has ever loved me! If he dies, I don’t want to live!” She collapsed onto her bed again, sobbing.
“You allowed Roger Mortimer to make love to you?” Brianna’s voice was a shocked whisper. A woman who committed adultery was considered worse than a whore in a brothel. Her husband had the legal right to kill her.
“We couldn’t help ourselves…We are in love!”
Brianna sat down in stunned silence while the queen lay crying out her heart. Brianna’s girlish infatuation for Roger Mortimer began to dissolve. Wolf’s voice came winging back to her: My father would not cavil at seduction. Be warned, Brianna.
As she thought about it, Brianna realized she did understand. Mortimer was desperate and Isabelle was an exquisitely attractive woman, who was also the Queen of England. A vulnerable Isabelle, starved for a man’s affection, would be drawn irresistibly to Mortimer’s powerful charm. The dark, dominant male was the antithesis of her weak husband, whom she had come to hate and despise. What other man breathing would have the bold audacity to seduce a queen? Isabelle and Roger were meant for each other.
Brianna’s thoughts swept away her illusions. She bade them good-bye with little regret, along with her naiveté. She was a woman, not a child. The world was ofttimes cruel, peopled by evil men, and it would take a strong will and determination to survive. Jane was right—there are worse sins than infidelity.
“Isabelle, you had better stop crying and dry your eyes. Roger is going to need your strength to help him escape.”
The queen sat up and stared at her. “Escape from the Tower? That is not possible.”
“To a Mortimer, nothing is impossible.”
Chapter 19
Wolf Mortimer, garbed from head to foot in black, made his silent way through the dark labyrinth of ancient corridors known as Westminster Palace. It was three hours past midnight and even the guards posted outside the royal apartment were asleep. He entered the king’s bedchamber and stood motionless. All five of his senses were heightened, while he allowed his sixth sense to roam about seeking knowledge of everything in the room from the furniture to its occupants. Through the darkness he saw the massive bed. He heard the slow, heavy breathing that a drunken stupor produced, and his nostrils flared at the pungent odor of wine and se
men. He touched the knife at his belt and unwound the heavy black cord he had tied beneath his doublet. Then he moved to the opposite side of the bed, away from the heavy breathing.
Before Hugh Despencer opened his eyes, he was aware of the prick of the sharp knife at his throat. Cautiously he opened his eyes and saw only darkness. He tried to touch Edward surreptitiously to awaken him, but realized his arms and his legs were bound tight. “Who are you?” His voice was ragged with fear.
“I am Death.”
“The Angel of Death? There is no such thing.”
“Angel—Devil—take your pick.” Wolf pressed the point of the knife until he drew blood. “The king sleeps like the dead—he won’t awaken for hours.”
“What do you want?” Hugh whispered hoarsely.
“I want you.” His voice was cold, implacable.
“No! Please! I’ll give you money.”
“Money is no good to me. I deal only in life or death.”
“Name your price!”
“Persuade the king to rescind Mortimer’s death sentence. Tomorrow!” Wolf twisted the tip of the knife. “The choice is yours. Mortimer lives, or you die. I shall be back to collect you tomorrow night, Hugh Despencer.” He let the silence stretch out for a full minute. “No, I can read your thoughts. I will elude any guard you set for me, as I did tonight. I am invisible. Only those who are about to die can see me. Bon nuit, I quite enjoy these nocturnal visits.”
The next day, King Edward commuted the Mortimers’ death sentence to perpetual imprisonment in the Tower. All were astonished and offered their own reasons for this change of heart. Many said it must have been Pembroke’s doing, but others who had been present when the Mortimers surrendered said King Edward was afraid of the curse Roger Mortimer had put on him that day.
The news swept from Westminster to Windsor and beyond like wildfire, and it was on everyone’s tongue.
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