The Falcon and the Flower (11 page)

At first the guard on the gate refused him entrance because he knew the uncertainty of Belamé’s temper when disturbed at his dinner, but the fellow was adamant. When he divulged the Salisbury name, the guard bade him wait at the entrance to the dining hall and made his Way to the dais. A pang of resentment stabbed him as he saw his fellows were well into their wine cups while he had the misfortune of standing guard tonight. “’T is Ravener, milord, with some tale of Salisbury’s daughter staying at the White Boar. He’s likely mistaken. What would she be doin’ in these parts?”

De Belamé put down his goblet and wiped his beard with his sleeve. The workings of his mind were devious. “’T is possible. She could be on her way to Castlecombe to do the yearly tally. Tell Ravener I’ll have a word with him.”

Ravener’s thirst grew apace as he wended through the hall.

“How do you know it’s Salisbury’s daughter?” Belamé demanded.

“Her escort demanded a room for her. Said plain as plain it were fer the Earl of Salisbury’s daughter.”

“How many retainers?” Belamé asked.

“Only two … a man and a woman.”

Belamé looked satisfied. “You did well to bring the information. Help yourself to some wine for your trouble.”

Ravener blinked rapidly, getting up his courage to protest. “Milord, I was hoping for coin. I could have flogged their packhorses and made a tidy profit, but I chose to come all the way to Hagthorn.”

Belamé considered for a moment before summoning the guard who was standing aside. “Put him in a guest chamber,” he muttered.

It took Ravener only a moment to discern his meaning. Shit, he should have settled for the wine. Now he would spend the night below in a dank cell with rats for company. Fear rippled along his spine. Perhaps Belamé wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do. Ravener blurted, “I won’t talk!”

Belamé replied, “You have the right to remain silent … forever.” A bold plan was forming in Roger de Belamé’s head. He got the idea from something another baron had already done. You needed permission from the king to marry an heiress, but since there was no king at the moment it needed only a forced marriage and consummation and the deed was done—the lands secured. Dawn would bring him a fine prize indeed.

When Falcon returned to the castle for supper, he was sorry that he’d spoken so sharply to Jasmine. She didn’t show her face in the dining hall and he missed her. A
mere glimpse of her brought him pleasure, and when he could contemplate her lovely face and form all through a meal it made it seem like a banquet. He would seek her in her chamber before he retired and tell her that she could go to Avisa if John was to be crowned king. He wanted to see the corners of her mouth lift when he told her. He wanted to kiss the corners of her mouth … For over an hour he savored the anticipation of being alone with her, knowing anticipation was sometimes more pleasurable than the reality. Falcon knocked low and, when she did not answer, thought she was asleep. He knocked again louder, then threw the door wide to reveal the empty room devoid of the baggage. He opened the inner door of the chamber, knowing he would find Dame Winwood’s room empty also. He swore a fertile oath and kicked a stool across the room. The old bitch, aye, and the young bitch too, had gone home to the keep after he had told them plainly it was not safe.

It was full dark and the moon was rising as he strode into the knights’ quarters. He picked three of his own and three Salisbury men to take with him to Winwood Keep. As he would leave them there as a guard, he picked older men who were veterans and could be counted on to defend a keep should the need arise. Within quarter of an hour they had packed their belongings and were in the saddle riding south.

Falcon de Burgh was stunned to discover that Jasmine had not returned home. That left only one alternative, which his mind almost refused to acknowledge. In all his life he had never had an order seriously disobeyed, and it had not occurred to him that he would ever suffer willful disobedience at the hands of a woman.

“She dared!” he said in amazement. “She actually dared.” In that moment he knew that when he got his hands on her, he would beat her. “Sorry, lads,” he muttered,
“I’m afraid we’ll have to turn about and ride north to Cirencester.”

Not one man thought to grumble, though it would be tomorrow before they got out of their saddles, but de Burgh was angry for them. His men would miss their ale and their comfortable beds because of the whim of a willful wench. He would wash his hands of her! Then he grudgingly acknowledged that the very reason he was riding toward her, at once angrily and eagerly, was that he fancied she was the right wench for him.

Daylight dawned very early on this May morn. Jasmine and Estelle did no more than wash their hands and faces. They broke their fast with bread and cheese left over from their supper and slipped down to rouse David who had slept with the packhorses for safekeeping.

The early mist in the hollows of the meadows would burn off once the sun was full risen. They were two or three miles past Marlborough when suddenly, from behind a copse of trees, four armed men bid them halt. David had his sword out instantly and was doing an admirable job of defending the women when one of the men who was not engaged with the young titan simply rode up behind him and stabbed him in the back.

Jasmine screamed, and just as she was about to slide from the saddle to the boy’s side, she saw more men riding down upon them at full gallop. Her heels jammed into her palfrey’s sides and the little mare sped away on fleet, slim legs.

De Burgh cursed and took after her. He was not sure
of the moment Jasmine realized he was her pursuer, but he knew it was long before she brought her riding crop down across his cheek, drawing blood. The mark would leave a permanent white scar in his deeply tanned face. “Seize her!” he ordered two of his men. He then wheeled his destrier back toward the fleeing abductors. He relished the encounter that would provide him with the outlet his violence needed at this moment. Unfortunately, his men had left him only two to annihilate. The first he ran through with his sword. The steel went so deep he could not withdraw it immediately, so he unsheathed his dagger with his sword arm, dismounted on the run, and pulled the last man still mounted from his horse. He knelt on the man’s throat, held the dagger at his carotid artery, and demanded, “Who?”

The man felt fear like he had never felt it before. The dagger pricked his neck eagerly. “Roger de Belamé … Hagthorn Castle,” he babbled, and then he felt nothing really, just a mild sense of the fatality of it all as he began his unplanned journey to eternity.

De Burgh turned and saw Jasmine struggling against the hold of his men.

“Does it take two of your bullies to hold me?” she demanded.

“It takes two of them to keep me from doing violence to you.” He pointed to David’s limp form, which two of the Salisbury knights were gently lifting. “He took that wound defending you. It will likely prove fatal.”

Jasmine sobbed. “Poor David, please let me help him, he was so brave.” Jealousy tore through Falcon like a steel-tipped arrow. What was between these two?

Estelle looked up at de Burgh as she examined the boy’s wound. “It needs cleansing and binding immediately. He should also have a couple of hours rest before an attempt is made to move him.”

De Burgh nodded his agreement and said quietly,
“That suits my plans well, Dame Winwood. Take care of the boy while I take care of another.”

For a moment Jasmine cringed, but then she realized she was being totally ignored. It was not a contrived ignoring for she saw clearly another matter consumed him. He left a burly knight to guard the women and mounted with grim determination.

The six knights strode into Hagthorn Castle with a sureness of purpose that forced aside any who would impede them. Roger de Belamé and his men had just finished breakfast and were still in the hall. Falcon de Burgh carried a long rope with a noose knotted securely at one end. Without preamble or a sidewise glance he strode to the dais and by dint of physical power forced the noose over Belamé’s head. Four of de Burgh’s knights held the gaping men at bay with their wickedly gleaming long-swords while the fifth jumped onto the dais amid the leftover food and helped de Burgh throw the end of the rope over a heavy beam. They hanged Roger de Belamé on the spot before his impotent men. As they watched him dangling there, kicking until his face turned black, their desire for retaliation melted away, as each in his turn realized the inevitability of the retribution of a man who spread carnage and violence.

Falcon looked each man eye to eye before he said, “My name is de Burgh. I lay claim to Hagthorn.” He spoke to his five knights briskly. “Stay here until I return from Cirencester. Bring some order to this place.” He glanced with distaste at the hanged man and added, “Clean up the refuse.”

Jasmine watched de Burgh ride toward her. He bore himself like a conqueror. He rode like a centaur, and she resented his dominance. Then he was close enough for her to see the bloody stripe she had put on his face, and she felt fear and excitement mingled together.

He ignored her and spoke to Estelle. “Does the boy live?”

She nodded in the affirmative, but said quickly, “He won’t survive the ride back to Salisbury.”

“How convenient that we are closer to Cirencester,” he said dryly, aware that the two women had plotted and planned to achieve their goal. He’d taken the decision earlier or they would not be going, so he set about cutting saplings to make a horse-drawn litter for David.

Jasmine was filled with remorse that harm had come to the squire from Salisbury Castle, and she unpacked one of her cloaks and covered him with it gently. The tender look on her face made de Burgh say through set teeth, “Leave him, mistress, you have done enough.”

The cavalcade rode north in silence until de Burgh finally said to her, “Have you any notion of what almost befell you back there?”

“We were set upon by thieves. David sacrificed himself so that I was able to escape them, until
you
caught me.”

De Burgh was incredulous. “Are you so naive? Their prize wasn’t packhorses; their prize was a kidnapped bride for their rapacious baron. They assumed you were your father’s heiress.” He hid a smile as he let his barb go in deep. “Think you when they discovered you were
worthless
it would have gone any easier for you?”

“Worthless?” she cried furiously.

“Priceless,” he amended with irony. All too often it seemed to Jasmine that Falcon de Burgh got the last word.

As they neared Cirencester where Avisa, the Countess of Gloucester, had a magnificent manor house, he spurred his horse to a faster pace. Jasmine kept up with him and decided to pay him back for his cruel remark. Suddenly she jerked the reins on her palfrey so that she darted sideways into him, but his horsemanship was so
superb that he simply maneuvered slightly without even glancing in her direction.

De Burgh could not hide his surprise when he saw Hubert de Burgh’s men about the Countess of Gloucester’s stables. “What are you doing here, Peter?” he asked his uncle’s squire.

The fellow shrugged noncommittally and replied, “We are often here. I will inform Lord de Burgh of your arrival.”

Falcon assumed his uncle had gone home to Dorset from Wales, but now he surmised he must be passing through Gloucester to his sheriffdom of Hereford. Falcon did not offer to assist Jasmine to dismount, thereby depriving her of an opportunity to spurn his help.

Hugh met them at the door and helped them lift young David into the entrance hall. Hugh asked, “What happened to your face?”

Falcon grinned and replied, “A love scratch.”

Hugh grinned back, glanced at Jasmine, and said, “Yes, I heard all about Falcon’s Folly. She is unearthly beautiful.”

“What are you doing in these parts?” asked Falcon.

Hugh, evading an answer, said, “I could ask you the same thing. Looks like you ran into a little trouble getting here.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

At this moment a lovely voice floated down the staircase. “Hugh darling, I believe we are about to have visitors.” The voice and the Junoesque woman it belonged to stepped toward them and said, “Oh, dear, it appears I have let the cat among the pigeons.”

Falcon’s face certainly did not register the surprise he felt as he learned that his uncle was the Countess of Gloucester’s lover; however, Jasmine could not conceal her shock. This was John’s wife; he who would be king; she who would be queen!

Hugh, a little guiltily, said, “Thank God it is my nephew who has discovered us, Avisa. May I present Falcon de Burgh.”

The countess, a tall, handsome woman, looked at the young de Burgh with appreciation. She was in her mid-thirties and had always had an eye for a powerfully built man. She held out her hand to welcome him and he raised it to his lips.

“A deep pleasure, your grace. May I present my betrothed, Jasmine. She is the youngest daughter of your brother-in-law, William of Salisbury.”

Avisa swept the girl into a brief, warm embrace then set her away, saying “She is exquisite.”

Falcon continued. “This is her grandmother, Dame Estelle Winwood.”

Avisa’s attractive face lit up with recognition. “I remember you from a visit we made to Salisbury when John and I were first wed.” She spoke to Jasmine. “I remember your mother. She was as lovely then as you are now.”

Such conflicting emotions were racing through Jasmine that she was at a loss for words. She was delighted that Avisa had known her mother, and she was wildly curious about this woman who was about to become England’s queen, yet at the same time she was shocked that she was being unfaithful. She was embarrassed to have such knowledge and horrified that Avisa was slightly amused that she had been discovered.

Avisa had dispatched a servant to make ready a chamber for the wounded squire. Estelle picked up her apothecary case and followed the men who transported David.

“As you can well imagine, Dame Winwood, I am in need of a seer at the moment. Perhaps at supper you could foretell the future for me,” Avisa said.