The Falcon and the Flower (30 page)

They jousted and pushed at each other with their rough hands when they mounted, played devastatingly cruel jokes on one another, and seemed to exult in the inclement weather. The more bitter the wind, the more they threw off their hats and opened wide the necks of their leather jacks, laughing boisterously. It was as if the wind lifted their wild spirits. And indeed to men who lived by the sword, this was like a holiday, sauntering from castle to castle along the east coast. The little girls were tucked in their beds by suppertime, leaving the long evenings free for the men to laugh and drink and gamble and tell tall tales, each outdoing the one told before.

The next night, spent at Folkingham Castle, turned out to be the most miserable experience of the whole wretched journey. It was pouring cats and dogs, the heavens chucking down everything they had. The place was in such disrepair they spent the night in the leaky stables with their mounts, vying with one another for piles of moldy, wet hay.

Tempers frayed somewhat around midnight with curses and accusations of “witless bastard” and “weak-livered whoreson.” A voice said, “Horse shit’s supposed to be lucky, stop whining.” Another voice answered, “Lucky for me, unlucky for you!” This was followed by the sickening thud of a fist in a face. When the gray wet dawn arrived at least half of de Burgh’s men sported black eyes and sheepish countenances.

After an hour in the saddle, both children were sneezing and coughing and their servants were almost useless. De Burgh realized that winter had arrived early and no
more warm autumn days would be forthcoming. He made a quick decision. Instead of going directly south from Spalding, he turned east, skirting the wash, and rode into Norfolk.

The de Burghs had vast holdings in this part of England. Hubert’s Castle Rising was a snug, well-appointed place where the children could be put to bed until they were well and Falcon and his men could lie before roaring fires, eating and drinking their heads off if they so chose.

The hour was late when they arrived at Castle Rising, and Falcon was surprised to see that the stables were almost full. He glanced up in the darkness and saw that the de Burgh flag was flying, indicating that Hubert was in residence. They clattered over the drawbridge and rode under the spiked portcullis to the inner bailey where he left his men to deal with their charges. He walked through the passageway with guardrooms on either side filled with men at their evening meal.

Hubert’s face split into a broad grin. “Falcon, lad, well met. Is Salisbury here?”

“No. I’ve only a dozen of my men with me, but you’re the one man in all England I’m glad to meet up with tonight.”

“Why’s that?” Hubert asked suspiciously.

“I’m escorting the Scots’ princesses to you for safekeeping and I’m glad to be shut of them,” he said, grinning. “We don’t make very good nursemaids.”

“Shit, that’s all we need,” Hugh exclaimed, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He indicated the man sitting on his right. “Falcon, this is the Bishop of Norwich.”

“Yes,” Falcon said, nodding, “I’ve known the bishop since I was a lad in these parts.”

“Aye, well, that’s why I rode up here to get his advice about how to proceed with the news I received from the latest ship.” Hubert hesitated, then plunged in. “Pope
Innocent has excommunicated John. The shit will really fly when he finds out.”

Falcon removed his damp cloak and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s why you hoped Salisbury was with me.”

“Aye.” Hubert nodded. “In Greece they used to kill the messenger who delivered bad news … but I figured even John wouldn’t kill his own brother.”

“Don’t count on it,” Falcon said grimly. He turned to the bishop. “What will this mean?”

The Bishop of Norwich puffed out his lips. “It will all blow over as soon as the king accepts Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury. Then the Pope will reinstate him. In the meantime, John won’t be able to attend church or receive the sacrament. While he is under the ban of excommunication, any religious service he attends will be invalid.”

Falcon said carefully, “And if the king refuses to obey the Pope? Where do you stand in this?”

“Of course he will obey the Pope. We all must obey the Pope, for his is the higher authority. I shall certainly obey him.”

“You may, my lord bishop; the king may not. What then?”

“It would be anathema. The Pope would lay England under an interdict. All religious services would be ordered to be suspended. No burial services, no wills probated. We would cease to be a Christian land. With a papal ban the Pope could curse King John within and without, sleeping or waking, going and sitting, standing and riding, lying aboveground and underwater, speaking and drinking, in field, in town …”

Falcon beckoned Hubert with a jerk of his head. What he had to impart could not be said before the bishop. Hubert rose from the table and said, “I’d better take a
look at the little princesses. Special quarters will need to be plenished.”

When they were alone Falcon said, “John has sent Falkes de Bréauté to confiscate all the lands of Canterbury. Salisbury is on his way to dispatch William Marshal to Rome to read the Pope a tirade. John is a bloody fool! He has no support from his northern barons, but thinks he can rule without it. Now he makes war against the church. If he thinks he can rule without the support of the church, he is wrong, dead wrong.”

“Christ!” said Hubert, shaking his head. “No wonder he was afraid to stay in the north and returned to Gloucester. Salisbury’s gone to Chepstow, ye say? My men will have to escort the princesses to Corfe. Tomorrow I’m on my way to Chepstow. Perhaps Salisbury and myself with William Marshal’s help can bring John to his senses. Will you ride with me?”

“Only as far as Gloucester. I’m getting married, remember? Then I’m going to my own castle in Wales at Mountain Ash to sit out the winter. John is unstable. I can smell civil war on the air. What the hell would I do if he ordered me to ride against Nottingham or Lincoln? Do you think I’d sacrifice my men in a civil war?” he said with disgust.

“Your men worship you,” his uncle pointed out.

“They wouldn’t for long if I ordered them to fight their brothers.”

“Those who stick by him will get preferment, rewards,” advised Hugh.

“Oh, aye, next time I see you, you’ll likely be justiciar.” Falcon flashed his wolf’s grin, then shook his head. “The price is too high for me,” he said honestly.

Gloucester Castle was the most well-appointed and comfortable stronghold Jasmine had ever seen. No wonder the king had kept it in his possessive Norman fingers when he had divorced Avisa. The household chamberlaine ushered her to her own spacious room, high in the castle with a breathtaking view of the Black Mountains of Wales. Behind these rose some of the highest peaks in the world, the Cambrian Mountains.

She hung Feather’s cage by the window and gave Quill a little pan of water and an old slipper. It was only after she was unpacked and settled in that she learned her chamber was just a short distance from the apartment occupied by the Earl of Chester. She decided that on the morrow she would have a word with the chamberlaine and demand a room close to her grandmother.

Estelle needed to replenish her supply of medicinal herbs and reasoned that she would be able to find most of them close by along the banks of the great River Severn. Also Joan of Devon wanted to learn how to make scented candles. Rushlights, torches, and quarion candles, which were widely in use, smoked and stank. Estelle had spoken of using beeswax mixed with the oils of flowers, and the bride-to-be was quite taken with the idea.

Jasmine was trying to decide what she would wear to the wedding, which was only three days away. It must be something demure, modest, perhaps even prim to discourage men’s eyes from feasting upon her, especially those of Chester and the king. The trouble was that Estelle had always seen that she was dressed like a fairy princess. She thought perhaps she would wear the shell-pink velvet because it was plain and cut with a high
square neckline. Of course the underdress that went with it was delicate as a spider’s web, embroidered with silver threads. She sighed, realizing no matter which she chose, she would stand out. The contrast between her dresses and the queen’s was very marked, since Jasmine’s were all in pastel shades to complement her flaxen tresses, while the queen wore jewel-bright tones that showed off her vivid darkness and the ladies of the court all copied the queen’s fashions.

Next morning Jasmine chose a pair of boots and a warm cloak so that she could go out with Estelle to gather plants, but before she left her chamber, a young page brought a summons from the queen. Jasmine was puzzled that Isabella wanted to speak with her privately, and assumed it was in connection with some card reading or magic she wanted her to perform at the wedding celebration.

Isabella was still abed though the bedcurtains had been thrown back to let in the pale wintery sunshine. Jasmine noticed immediately that the queen’s eyes were unnaturally bright—shining and glittering with suppressed excitement. She licked her lips with anticipation before she spoke. “I want you to prepare for a wedding tomorrow. Do you have a suitable gown, Lady Jasmine?”

Jasmine was slightly confused. “I thought the wedding was two days from now, your majesty. Has the date been changed?”

“I am referring to
your
wedding, Lady Jasmine,” Isabella said, the corners of her mouth lifting with delicious malice.

“My wedding?” Jasmine repeated blankly.

Isabella’s eyes glittered with mischief. “The king has decided to honor you with a great marriage. He has given your hand to Ranulf de Blundeville, the Earl of Chester. The wedding will be tomorrow night.”

Jasmine was stunned. “Your majesty, that is impossible. I am betrothed to Falcon de Burgh.”

Isabella waved her hand in dismissal. “The king has decided upon a more fitting match for one with royal blood. He has considered the matter carefully, and if he searched the length and breadth of the kingdom he could not find a wealthier or more powerful baron for you. You should be highly honored.”

“I am not honored, I am dishonored to be used as pawnbait! My father William of Salisbury contracted me to Falcon de Burgh. I will not marry the Earl of Chester!”

Isabella’s eyes flashed dangerously and her mouth turned sulky and cruel. “My husband is not asking you to marry Chester, he is commanding you to do so. Must I point out to you that Salisbury is nothing more than a bastard? John is your king! Seek your room, mistress, you will need to prepare yourself for this wedding.”

Jasmine was so angry she wanted to slap Isabella silly. A petulant, spoiled, child-bitch was trying to ruin her life on a whim. “I will speak to the king,” Jasmine said coldly.

Isabella laughed. “He and Chester have ridden out somewhere. Do you not recall you predicted all this yourself, Lady Jasmine, when first you read the tarot cards? I remember your words exactly. ‘The three of cups represents a bride, a happy fulfilling card denoting joy in anticipation of marriage.’ It was reversed and you said that meant a broken betrothal. So it all came right from your own mouth.”

Jasmine cast her mind back. It had meant interference of a third party to break up a betrothal. She remembered that her card had been placed slightly beneath those representing the queen and king, which indicated that they would step on her.

“Tomorrow evening you will be wed. You are dismissed.”

Jasmine whirled about and ran from the room. She did not stop running until she was safely inside her grandmother’s chamber. There she flung off the cloak she had been wearing. Her blood was high at the moment, she needed no cloak to keep her warm. “Estelle, I knew they were up to something! Isabella has just informed me I’m to wed the Earl of Chester tomorrow evening.”

“By the rood, the bastard has bought you from John! His pride never recovered when the king’s daughter-in-law divorced him. Now he takes his revenge by marrying another with royal blood.”

“There will be no marriage! John cannot do this, can he Estelle?” she cried.

“John can do anything he fancies,” Estelle said quietly.

“Where the hell is de Burgh when I need him?” Jasmine cried in anguish.

“I will speak to John. I know something terrible about him I can use to coerce him.”

“Isabella said he and Chester have ridden out,” she said helplessly.

“Then I will see Isabella,” Estelle said firmly.

Jasmine shook her head, “No, Estelle, it is pointless to try to reason with that evil little bitch. She took too much enjoyment in telling me. She was in an ecstasy from the torment she inflicted. It is an amusement for her. I am a gift … a divine sacrifice to her gods of passion,” said Jasmine bitterly. “I will speak to Chester, explain how the thought of marriage repels me. Perhaps he will listen to reason,” she said with faint hope.

Estelle took her hands. “I’ve had a vision. I have reason to believe John and Ranulf belong to a secret group of Devil worshippers. The vision was filled with chant and counterchant, sacrifice, robes, masks, drugs, sex, phallic symbols. They marched in patterns, holding banners,
they carried crosses upside down. Once they step through the secret door everything in life is reversed. Wrong becomes right, evil becomes good, hate becomes love.”

Cold fingers of dread gripped Jasmine’s heart. “What am I to do?” she whispered.

“Gervase must ride out to bring de Burgh hot spurred.”

“But we don’t know where he is. Estelle, do you have the power to locate him, do you really have the power?” she beseeched.

They held their breath as a low knock came upon the door. Both women were relieved to see Gervase slip inside quietly, although they could see concern written in every line of his face. “Lady Jasmine, Dame Winwood, I am charged with keeping my eyes and ears open regarding Chester. I do not wish to alarm you unduly, de Burgh would not be pleased, but if I failed to warn you of real danger he would never forgive me, nor would I forgive myself.”

“Tell us what you have learned, there is not a moment to spare,” ordered Estelle.