“They will need a ship. The Mortimers have always done business with Ralph de Botton, a London merchant with cargo ships. Tell them the port of Southampton will be far safer than London.”
“August is only a month away.” Anxiety made her breathless.
“When you are entrapped, a month seems like a lifetime.” He saw her lovely dark eyes cloud with compassion and knew some of it was for him. He didn’t want her consumed with worry and decided a taunt was the quickest way to dispel her dread.
“Have you called off your betrothal to de Warenne yet?”
She sprang up from the chair, her dark eyes now blazing with fury. “Why would I do such an outrageous thing?”
Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and took possession of her lips. The kiss was so powerful, she clung to him and opened her mouth for his ravishing. When he released her, she staggered on unsteady legs.
“That is why.”
Brianna turned and fled.
When she was back in the safety of her own chamber, she cursed Wolf Mortimer for taking advantage of her vulnerability, but Brianna, deep down, blamed herself for allowing the intimacy. Honest to a fault, she admitted that she had enjoyed the kiss. As she thought about it, she realized that a kiss meant little to Wolf Mortimer. He had likely done it to distract her from her fear. If so, it had certainly worked.
The next morning she sought out Simon in the stables. “I need to get a message to Rickard. Is it possible?”
Deveril lowered his voice. “Your brother is at Flamstead. I was about to saddle up and ride there.”
“I’m coming,” Brianna decided impulsively. “Saddle Venus for me and I’ll join you shortly.”
She hurried to the queen’s apartment and found Isabelle with her children and their nursemaids. “I am on my way to Flamstead with Simon Deveril. There is an urgent matter of business concerning the horses.” She threw Isabelle a speaking look that told her it was in connection with the secret that consumed them. “I will try to be back tonight, Your Grace.”
“Don’t scold me for coming, Rickard. I have an important message for you.”
He lifted her from the saddle. “I won’t scold you, Brianna. You are a grown woman and quite capable of making your own decisions. You must be thirsty after your long ride. Come inside and make yourselves comfortable.”
Brianna sipped her wine, while Rickard poured Simon some ale. “It’s such a relief to be able to speak openly. I know you are in charge of the escape plan.”
Rickard nodded. “I have six men, all close loyal friends of Roger.”
“You will need swift horses, which Flamstead can easily supply. Take whatever you need.” Brianna blushed. “I’m sorry, Rickard. You are Warwick’s heir, you don’t need my permission.”
“Flamstead will be yours someday.”
“Wolf Mortimer says you will need a ship. There is a London merchant called Ralph de Botton who will supply you with one, and Wolf warns that Southampton will be a safer port than London. Do you have enough money? The Mortimers have nothing.”
“Warwick gold is financing this venture. Father is generous. Do you have any notion how Roger will manage to escape the Tower?”
“Yes, let me draw a rough sketch for you.” Brianna took a sheet of paper from the desk and, with a piece of charcoal, drew two towers. “The queen’s private apartment is in this tower. This is the Great Hall and this is the connecting Royal Kitchen. Roger is in the Lanthorn Tower and his cell butts up against the kitchen. He has tools to remove enough stones to crawl through. The huge kitchen chimney leads up to the roof. He will scale down the outer wall of Saint Thomas’s Tower to the wharf.”
Rickard’s finger traced the escape route. “We’ll be waiting here with horses, on the Surrey shore. When is it to happen?”
Brianna hesitated. Roger clearly had a specific date in mind and Wolf had confirmed that date would be perfect. “On the night of August first,” she said confidently.
Rickard grinned. “That’s his birthday—he is sure to succeed. With only a month to finalize the plan, we’ve no time to waste. When I have secured the merchant ship, I will get word to Simon.”
After lunch, Brianna spent a delightful hour in Flamstead’s verdant pastures among the horses she loved. She talked to the mares, and praised the new colts they had dropped, never doubting for a moment that they understood every word she said. It brought her a measure of calm serenity.
That night, after she had returned to Windsor, she reread Lincoln Robert’s latest letter. He was asking her to set a firm date when she would visit Farnham in Surrey.
Though Brianna longed to see the castle that would be their home once she and Lincoln were married, she knew she could not possibly leave Windsor during the crucial month of July. The plans for Mortimer’s escape must be finalized and all loose ends tied up. Nothing could be left to chance, if it were to succeed.
The queen also was depending on her to accompany her to the Tower for her last secret trysts. Isabelle had given her heart to Roger Mortimer, and their parting would be poignantly bittersweet.
Brianna dipped her quill and wrote to her betrothed.
My Dearest Lincoln Robert:
Your letters are a constant source of pleasure to me. I am so looking forward to spending time with you, and of course visiting Farnham Castle. I have decided to come in mid-August when it will be at its loveliest, and all will be in bloom.
Brianna lifted her quill and felt guilty for putting him off. She firmly pushed away the remorse and wrote two more pages, asking questions about the crops he’d planted and the herd of cattle he’d bought. Then she avowed her love and signed the missive.
The following day, Isabelle and Brianna visited the Tower and the queen followed the same routine of entertaining Constable Segrave at dinner. She brought up the subject of the Tower garrison’s celebration of its patron saint. “It is an annual tradition and a reward to the guards for the vigilant job they do. I hope you will not frown on allowing them wine on such a special occasion, Sir Stephen.”
When Roger Mortimer arrived just before midnight, Brianna locked the door and this time accompanied the Border Lord to the queen’s apartment. Brianna saw the look of adoration on Isabelle’s face and knew Roger was the sun and the moon to her. Their time together is so short and so precious.
“Lord Mortimer, I was able to visit Wolf and ask him about the date you gave me. While I was there, I believe he had a vision that August first would be most propitious. He told me you would need a ship that could be supplied by a merchant named Botton, and warned that Southampton would be a safer port than London.”
“Wolf is one step ahead of me, as always. That’s the advantage of having second sight, though sometimes he thinks it a curse.”
“I passed the information on to my brother Rickard. He will arrange for the ship and will have swift horses waiting on the Surrey shore. I felt confident enough to tell him the plan was set for the night of August first.”
He gallantly kissed her fingers. “I will be forever indebted to the de Beauchamps.”
“My lord, do you intend to swim across the Thames?”
Isabelle gasped, terrified at the thought.
“I would not hesitate, if that were the only way. Alspaye has arranged for a rowboat to meet us at the wharf. The lieutenant is coming with me. ’Tis the only way to save him from hanging.”
“We couldn’t have met without the lieutenant’s help. I am most grateful to him. I spoke with Segrave about the celebration of the garrison’s patron saint to ensure he would allow the guards to imbibe wine that night.”
“I have a good supply of the decoction of poppy your physician left me for Chirk. The sleeping draught works like a charm—the guards won’t know what hit them.”
Brianna stood and bade the lovers good night, and then she went to the Great Hall to sit vigil.
One week before the celebration of Saint Peter ad Vincula, Brianna met Gerard in the Royal Wardrobe and gave him thi
rty bottles of wine. Alspaye dosed each one with syrup of poppy and carefully fit the corks back into the bottles.
That night, Roger held Isabelle in his arms for hours, quieting her fears and erasing all doubts that everything would go according to plan. “Ma belle, you must not come again. I want you nowhere near the Tower for a week before my escape. When they rouse from their drugged sleep and find the bird has flown, all hell will break loose. You must remain at Windsor and be above suspicion. Swear it to me on your life, Isabelle.”
She cried that this must be their last time together and Roger kissed away her tears. “I will find a way to join you in Paris,” she vowed fervently. “I love you with all my heart!”
“Marie, I am so happy you have returned to Windsor. This must mean that Pembroke has recovered from his illness.” Isabelle gave her cousin a warm kiss of greeting, happy for any diversion that would make the last week of July go by more quickly.
“My husband is far from well, yet the king insisted Pembroke accompany him and Despencer to Pontefract. Since Lancaster’s death, soldiers have been deserting the army in droves. Apparently there is a rumor of miracles taking place at Thomas of Lancaster’s tomb and people are flocking there, calling him Saint Thomas the Martyr. King Edward is livid. He has issued a proclamation forbidding pilgrimages and has ordered Pembroke set a guard at the tomb.”
Brianna and Isabelle exchanged a look of pure relief that King Edward and Hugh Despencer would be far away up north when the first day of August arrived.
“Your Grace, I have brought you a letter from your brother Charles. When I received it this morning, I decided to come to Windsor immediately.”
“Marie, that was so thoughtful of you. I will let you in on a secret. The King of France is planning to marry again. My brother’s bride-to-be is Jeanne of Evreux.”
Isabelle retired early, anxious to read her brother’s letter. As Brianna hung the queen’s gown in her wardrobe, she listened avidly to the things Charles had written.
“He will receive Lord Mortimer with all honor.” Isabelle looked up from her letter. “The King of France detests Hugh Despencer’s tyranny and his influence on Edward. Charles says he has written to Edward summoning him to do homage for Gascony and Ponthieu, and if he delays one more time, my brother will send in his army and occupy Gascony!”
“The Despencers will never allow Edward to go to France and leave them in England. Without the king’s protection, their enemies would destroy them,” Brianna declared.
“Edward fears war with France. I will offer to go and make peace! It will take months, but perhaps by Christmas I will be able to join Roger in Paris. If the plan works out and I am allowed to go to France, will you come with me, Brianna?”
“I’m afraid I cannot, Isabelle. My year as lady in waiting will be over. I am to be married at Christmas.”
“Of course you are. How lucky you are to be able to wed the man you love.” Isabelle sighed.
The last week of July finally crawled to a close and the fateful day that Isabelle and Brianna both anticipated and dreaded arrived. “My nerves are taut as fiddle strings. I can’t stop biting my fingernails—I don’t know how I’ll get through the day.”
“We must keep busy. Why don’t we gather roses and verbena from the garden and make perfume? At least that will occupy our hands. After that we can take the children and their dogs for a romp in Windsor’s park,” Brianna suggested.
“That’s a lovely idea. John can ride his pony and Eleanor can feed the carp in the fishpond. Children need watching every moment and will divert my thoughts from endless worry.”
“This afternoon we can watch Prince Edward practice with the longbow, and perhaps we could have a lesson in archery.”
Because the queen and her ladies filled their day with activities, it passed without too much anguish. The night, however, was another matter. Dinner in the Great Hall took up a couple of hours, though all Isabelle and Brianna did was push the food about on their plates and make a pretense of eating.
When they returned to the queen’s apartment, Isabelle paced about her favorite chamber restlessly. It had marble pillars and stained-glass windows with casement seats. One wall was painted with a mural of the Wise and Foolish Virgins and Brianna watched the queen stare at it with dismay.
Finally, Isabelle took pity on her ladies and dismissed them for the night. “Thank heavens they are gone. I could not mask my emotions any longer, pretending to be calm and collected when in reality I am frantic!”
“Both of us are agitated…Perhaps we should go to the chapel.”
“Oh yes…I do need to pray.”
The queen’s chapel was next to her apartments. Isabelle’s pew was in the upper gallery where she could pray in private. On Sundays her household worshipped below.
Brianna followed Isabelle into her pew and they both knelt and bent their heads. A picture of Roger Mortimer came full blown into Brianna’s mind, and though she knew he was courageous and daring, the thing he was attempting tonight was against all odds. He had lost everything and his cause seemed hopeless.
Oh Holy Saint Jude, Apostle and Martyr,
Great in virtue and rich in miracles,
Near kinsman of Jesus Christ,
The faithful intercessor of all who invoke your special patronage in times of need.
To you I have recourse from the depths of my heart,
And humbly beseech you, to whom God has given such great power,
To come to the aid of Roger Mortimer on this fateful night.
When Brianna said Roger’s name, a small measure of serenity came over her. I must never give up hope. Hope is all we have in the face of cruel adversity and impossible odds. If anyone can pull off a miraculous escape from the Tower of London, it is Roger Mortimer. Brianna raised her eyes heavenward. With a little divine intervention.
Brianna felt Isabelle take her hand and they prayed together. When they left the chapel, they went to the queen’s bedchamber and talked until midnight.
Brianna plied Isabelle with full-bodied red wine, hoping it would make her sleep. The queen was emotionally exhausted, her nerves were in tatters, and eventually she agreed to undress and get into bed. When her eyes began to close, Brianna tiptoed from the room and sought her own chamber.
Though she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed, she knew she would not be able to sleep. Her body might be at rest, but her mind was overactive, as her chaotic thoughts chased each other in never-ending circles.
Brianna heard a distant church bell chime four and knew she could lie there no longer. If she didn’t arise and go outside, she would suffocate. Lots of people start their day at four o’clock in the morning. Only the privileged lie abed.
As she put on her shoes and donned her cloak, she realized her worries had changed from last night. How on earth would she get through the day, not knowing if Mortimer had succeeded or failed?
How in the name of God will Isabelle get through another day? They could not go to the Tower. They could not make any inquiries whatsoever. They would have to wait until the news was brought to them. Brianna racked her brains for a solution to the dilemma.
Finally, an idea came to her. Since the news would have to be brought from London, she hurried down to the vast kitchens where the workday had already begun, and made her way out to the yard where the produce wagons were being unloaded.
Fish carts arrived from the London docks, but the drivers seemed to have no exciting rumors to pass along. She walked among the wagons bringing sacks of flour for the thousand loaves baked every day at Windsor, but no gossip was being exchanged.
Brianna lingered among the carters bringing everything from meat to fresh-cut rushes for the floor of the Great Hall, but to her great disappointment she learned nothing.
Dawn had begun to lighten the sky, so Brianna walked down to the river and waited at the water stairs. Two wherries, transporting people from London, pulled in at the same time, and as the two groups disembarked, they b
egan lively conversations with each other.
“Blimey, did ye hear the news? Mortimer disappeared from under their bloody noses! Heads will roll over this, mark my words.”
“Drunk as bleeding lords, every last one of ’em!”
“Mortimer’s pulled off the greatest escape in history. No wonder they call him Notorious!”
Brianna’s heart lifted with joy. She wanted to ask a dozen questions, but kept her mouth tightly closed. She had learned the one thing that mattered and she could not wait to share the glad tidings with Isabelle. She cautioned herself not to break into a run, and instead walked sedately back to the castle.
After a brief knock, she entered the queen’s bedchamber and carefully closed the door. Isabelle was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her face was deathly pale and she had mauve shadows beneath her eyes.
Brianna broke into a wide grin that ended in a ripple of lighthearted laughter. “Isabelle, he did it!”
“How do you know?” she whispered, not daring to believe it.
“I went down to the water stairs, knowing the first wherries from London would be arriving. The people disembarking could talk of nothing else but Mortimer’s miraculous escape!”
“Thank God and all the saints in heaven!” Isabelle sprang up and the pair, giddy with relief, threw their arms about each other and danced around in circles.
They sobered for a moment and Isabelle wiped tears of joy from her cheeks. “I can’t believe it. I just cannot believe it!”
“I never doubted for one minute!”
The two friends erupted into laughter again at Brianna’s barefaced lie.
“I need a bath…and food.” Isabelle, delirious with happiness, was suddenly ravenous.
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