“You must tell me,” she said desperately, “you must help me reach her.”
Ursule sat down in the chair that Catheryn had just left, and put the back of her hand on Isabella’s forehead.
Then she looked at Catheryn.
“It is all around the village,” she said heavily, “that you left a child behind. A girl, almost a young woman. Many say that you left her because you did not care for her. But I know you, Catheryn of England: you are a woman who would not leave anyone behind in a place like that.”
Catheryn could feel her legs trembling, but she was determined to stay strong.
“And that is all they say?”
Ursule hesitated.
Catheryn dropped to her knees in front of the older woman.
“Please,” she said, tears that had been threatening for days finally approaching the surface. “Please, you must tell me. You must help me.”
“There has been talk,” Ursule said softly, with a nervous glance at the outline of Fitz to her right, “that the lord of this place has not forgotten your child. Letters have gone out from here, with our lord William FitzOsbern’s seal, to all parts of England.” She leaned close towards Catheryn. “To find your child.”
Catheryn stared. “Fitz – my lord has been trying to find my Annis?”
Ursule shrugged. “That is what they say. And now you must go to your bed chamber – no, I will brook no excuse. You are no good to me in the same state as they, and that is where you shall end up if you do not take rest.”
Catheryn’s head swam. “You are right,” she said thickly, “though I wish it were not so. You will send for me if… if anything changes?”
Ursule smiled a bitter smile. “If either one of these dies this night, you shall know of it.”
*
Catheryn was raised from her nightmare by a scream. For a moment, she thought it was her own; she had often had to muffle her terror in the night for fear of waking the entire castle. But this time, it was not her mouth that was desperately shrieking: it was another’s.
The sun had not yet broken the night into day, and Catheryn bit her lip. There was no knowing what had happened, but if Ursule really needed her, then it would likely be impossible for her to come and fetch her.
Sighing, and wrapping a cloak around her shoulders for warmth, Catheryn rose from her bed. The hysterical screams had not ceased, and Catheryn opened the door to the corridor to hear them even louder.
Strangely, the screams did not seem to be emanating from the room where Fitz and Isabella were being nursed. Instead, Catheryn thought they were coming from much further away.
Hurrying, bare feet catching on the rushes that were laid down on the floor, Catheryn almost ran. She pushed open the door to the Great Hall, and a terrible sight lay before her eyes.
Adeliza.
The woman was lying prostrate by the fire. It was a miracle that her hair had not caught aflame – it was uncovered and perilously close to the flames licking at the ground. There was a servant beside her. Both of them were crying, and it was Adeliza that was screaming.
“Adeliza!”
Catheryn rushed over to the woman who was both captor and rival, and tried to pull her into an upright position. Adeliza was completely limp, a dead weight in Catheryn’s arms, and she seemed unaware of where she was.
“Adeliza, can you hear me?”
Her eyes were closed, but her mouth continued to cry out. Catheryn turned in bewilderment to the servant. Panic flooded through her veins. This could only mean one thing.
“…dead,” was all that the servant was able to say between hiccoughing tears.
Catheryn’s mouth went dry. Her worst fears had been realised: the long journey in the snow, the darkness, the cold, the damp, had claimed from this family one of their own. Someone had been wrenched from life, and now lay lifeless in the chamber just down the corridor.
But which one?
“Tell me,” Catheryn shook the servant, not caring whether it was seemly or not to lay hands on another person, “tell me who is dead.”
The servant, an elderly woman with wisps of grey hair, took a deep breath, and managed to speak clearly.
“She is gone – Isabella has gone. The Lord took her not a moment ago, and my lady, my poor lady…”
The servant descended into sobs once more, and Catheryn swallowed, her mouth feeling like death.
Isabella was dead. The vibrant, lovely girl that continuously goaded her father, and mocked her brother. The twin sister that Emma could not live without had disappeared, and in her place there was but a body, with no life within it.
Catheryn’s eyes overflowed with tears, but instead of allowing them to fall she tried to control her emotions. A tiny part of her that she would not own as herself was glad that it was not Fitz, glad that the man that she had learned to love had not disappeared down the same dark tunnel. But Catheryn hated that part of herself: she could not imagine how Adeliza was suffering.
A thought crossed her mind that, if she knew of her own daughter’s fate, she too may be joining with Adeliza in her desperate screams and passionate crying.
It did not do to dwell on such things.
“Adeliza,” Catheryn said thickly, her voice full of emotion. “Come. Let us get you to bed; you need to rest. Come with me.”
Adeliza could not be persuaded, and she could not be goaded; she was beyond coercing, and beyond cajoling. Her child had died, and she did not want to live any more.
Catheryn and the servant eventually managed to carry Adeliza back to her chamber. Catheryn tried not to look around with curiosity at the place where Fitz spent much of his time; she attempted not to see the clothes lying across the floor, the intimacy of man and wife that was so evident in the room, and the pieces of parchment that Catheryn could only assume were personal letters adorning the top of one chest. This was not her place to be.
“Get her on the bed,” Catheryn panted. The weight of Adeliza was incredible, and Catheryn knew that she had not totally woken up yet.
The servant helped Catheryn to put Adeliza underneath the covers, but during all of this Adeliza refused to say anything. She merely continued to cry, her sobs punctuated with screams. Now Catheryn was close to her, she realised that each scream was the name of the daughter she had just lost.
The servant hurried out, and Catheryn did not have the heart to force her to stay. The entire household would mourn this tragic loss – and Fitz was certainly not free from death either. There was much to be fearful of still.
“Adeliza,” Catheryn sat on the other side of the bed, and tried not to think that this was Fitz’s side. “Look at me. You need to sleep.”
Adeliza turned to look at her, but there was only a small fraction of recognition in her wild eyes.
“Sleep,” said Catheryn, kindly. “Staying awake will bring you naught but pain, and your mind needs to escape. Sleep is the only place that you can go, and I am sending you there immediately, my lady.”
Adeliza’s tongue reached out, and wet her dry lips.
“She is really gone?”
The croak was nothing like Adeliza. It had none of her strength, none of her pride, none of her power. Catheryn was devastated to see all of the fight truly gone.
“Yes,” she managed, finally. “Isabella is gone.”
Adeliza’s face crinkled up as she began to cry again, but they were quiet tears.
“You… you will stay with me?”
“Of course I will,” Catheryn reassured her. “I will not leave your side all night. And in the morning, I will go with you to see your husband, and –”
“No.” Strength had returned to Adeliza’s voice, but it was not the word that Catheryn was expecting.
“No?”
Adeliza shook her head weakly. “I will not go to see Fitz. He is still unwell, he could still be contagious. I will not risk it –”
“Your own husband? You do not care to go and see him?”
Adeliza’s eyes met Ca
theryn’s, and they were hard as glass.
“I will not see him.”
Chapter Twenty One
Neither Catheryn nor Adeliza really slept that night. The wind howled, and it was often accompanied by Adeliza’s moaning. Even as she slept, she wept.
Catheryn did not sleep at all. She could not drag her eyes away from the woman who had just lost one of the most precious things to her. Adeliza turned frequently underneath the covers where Catheryn had placed her, unable to settle, unable to rest.
Her mouth murmured, “Isabella.”
Catheryn had to hold back tears. It did not seem possible, it did not seem fair that someone so young and so full of life had had it swept away from her. She shuddered to think of the possibility that her own child had received a similar fate. There was no way of knowing where Annis was living, where she had had to live after the Normans took their home. Perhaps she, too, had perished on a cold night, after attempting to sleep beneath the stars.
Dawn broke slowly. The light ebbed through the translucent glass, and Catheryn tried to think of what would happen that day. A judge would be called, to see the body. A priest, too. Emma would have to be told.
Despite not having eaten anything for many hours, Catheryn felt sick.
“Isabella?”
Adeliza was stirring, but the dream that she was surfacing from centred around her dearest concern.
“Isabella, is that you?”
“No, my lady Adeliza,” Catheryn said gently. “It is Catheryn. Your… guest.”
Adeliza’s blinking eyes suddenly found their focus.
“Catheryn! What are you doing here – in my bed chamber?”
Catheryn said nothing, but watched as remembrance of the night before filtered into Adeliza’s mind.
“No,” she said slowly, forcing herself up and looking desperately into Catheryn’s face. “No. It cannot be – Isabella is alive?”
Catheryn would have given anything to be elsewhere at that moment; to allow someone else to tell a mother, again, that she had lost a child.
“No,” she said gently. “The Lord took Isabella last night. She is at peace.”
A tear blossomed in Adeliza’s eye, but to Catheryn’s surprise, she did not descend once more into the hysterical sobs that she had been expecting.
“I knew that,” she said softly. “I know it, as a sleeper knows she is in a dream. And yet I was so convinced that this was the dream. That I would wake, and find no hand of death had touched my family.”
Catheryn said nothing. There was nothing to say.
“I must rise,” Adeliza said suddenly, clawing at the fur over her, “I must prepare to meet the priest – he has been summoned, of course?”
“I… I do not know,” stammered Catheryn, “I expect that Ursule has sent for him. Shall we go down together, to see how your husband is coping with the news?”
Adeliza paused in her struggle to free herself from her bed, and looked at Catheryn with eyes of steel. The tear was gone.
“I thought that I made myself clear last night. I will not go and see Fitz. He may still carry the disease which has just killed my daughter! You would ask me to risk myself?”
“I would ask you to be with your husband. He has just lost his daughter.”
Catheryn spoke calmly, but she did not feel it. Did this woman have no wifely feelings at all? Surely she would want to comfort her husband, and be comforted in turn after this tragedy? But no: Adeliza would rather be alone, and far from the danger of death, despite the fact that her husband was an unwilling victim.
Catheryn forced herself to take a deep, long breath. The chamber spun slightly, and she reminded herself that she would need to eat as soon as possible.
“I am going to see him,” she said simply.
*
Catheryn found Ursule guarding the door.
“What do you want?” she said, disgruntled. Reginald was snoozing around her neck.
“I need to see Fitz,” Catheryn said quietly. “How has he reacted to… to Isabella’s death?”
Ursule shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable, and Catheryn realised why at once.
“You haven’t told him.”
“And how could I? Sick as he is, near death’s door himself, as he was last night, was I to give him a reason to give up? I am not to be the bringer of bad news, my lady, even if you think that I should be.”
“She died within five steps of him!” Catheryn hissed angrily. “She died just beyond his reach, and he still does not know?”
“Be my guest if you want the honour,” snapped Ursule. Reginald awoke with a start, and hissed.
Catheryn rolled her eyes to the heavens. Was she continuously going to be telling parents the most awful thing that they could possibly hear?
Pushing past Ursule and not even bothering to reply, Catheryn walked into the room. Fitz was lying in bed, dozing. His hair was greasy, and pushed back against his forehead. His skin was sallow, but his breathing was regular.
“He will live.”
Catheryn spun around to look at his nurse. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. It will take him a month to recover completely, but he will live.”
Tears filled Catheryn’s eyes, and she berated herself silently for being so relieved that the man she loved would live. He would live as another’s, she reminded herself, and his daughter had just died. This was not the time to dwell on her feelings. This was a time for grieving.
Catheryn knelt by the side of the bed, and gently put a hand on his arm.
“Fitz,” she said softly.
At first it seemed that he had not heard her, but after a squeeze of his arm, his eyes opened.
“Adeliza?”
Catheryn winced. It seemed that she was doomed to be mistaken for many people that morning.
“No, my lord. It is Catheryn.”
“Catheryn.” Fitz’s eyes were bright, but they seemed to struggle to focus on her. “I am afraid that I feel very weak.”
“Do not concern yourself with that,” Catheryn said with a smile that she forced onto her face. “You have battled against a great sickness, and you have won. It was certainly not the first battle you have faced, although I pray that it will be the last.”
A smile flickered over Fitz’s features.
“I know that you have aided Ursule in my care, and I am grateful.”
“You know that I would do… much to ensure your happiness.” Catheryn did not trust herself to continue, and had just decided to bring the subject around to Isabella, when Fitz turned his head.
“And how is my daughter doing? Already up and out of bed, I see?” Fitz smiled, and it was a glorious smile. “How the young do shame the old. I had no idea that it was possible to recover from such a sickness in that time.”
Catheryn did not need to look around to know that Ursule had left the chamber. Strong as she was in many ways, she was unable to watch this.
“Fitz,” she said softly. “Isabella has not recovered. She was very sick, and last night… she lost her own battle.”
Fitz stared at her. The words that she was saying did not make sense; he must have misheard her. But as he gazed up at Catheryn’s beautiful face, he saw within it the truth. Isabella had died. His daughter was dead.
Tears filled his eyes, but there was only one word on his lips.
“Adeliza,” he croaked. “Where is my wife?”
“She is very upset. She barely slept last night; I was with her.”
Fitz waved away those concerns with a weary hand.
“But why did she not come and tell me this, herself?”
Catheryn hesitated. How was she to tell this man, who had suffered so much, that his wife was so fearful of becoming ill herself that she had laid aside all concerns for any other?
“She needs to rest,” Catheryn said finally. “My lady Adeliza is weak, and she did not want to upset you with her tears.”
Fitz once more just stared at Catheryn. The room seemed
small, and dark, and they were alone.
“So what you are telling me,” Fitz said with a dark expression, “is that the person who came to tell me, whilst I lie here on my own sickbed, that my daughter is dead, is the only woman who truly loves me.”
Chapter Twenty Two
The moment that followed his words seemed to Catheryn to be long. Longer than long: she didn’t know where to look, and almost forgot to breathe.
“Say that again,” she managed, voice shaking. She was only too aware that her hand was still on Fitz’s arm, and it seemed to burn like fire.
“Let us pretend no longer. You love me – and I have certainly felt the love from your eyes every time you have looked at me.”
Catheryn opened her mouth, but Fitz continued before she could say any more.
“Try to deny it.”
“I cannot,” breathed Catheryn, “and I will not. But I must admit that I find it incredible.”
“That I should love you?” Fitz struggled to sit up. “That I should be attracted to such a wonderful and caring woman as you?”
Catheryn shook her head, trying not to smile. “More that it is finally spoken.”
“I have felt it for months,” confessed Fitz. “It has been ever dancing around my lips, and yet I never allowed it to be spoken.”
Catheryn almost smiled, but the remembrance of the empty bed in the room caused it to disappear as swiftly as it had come.
“Catheryn?”
Catheryn swallowed. “It is tragic that it has taken this – circumstances such as these to allow us to finally speak the truth.”
A sharp look of pain passed across Fitz’s face. “You mean my sickness, catching this fever that stole my daughter from me and almost robbed me of my life?”
Fitz reached for Catheryn’s hand, and clasped it tightly. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Hot tears flowed across Fitz’s cheeks, and Catheryn tried to show through the way that she clutched at his hand just how she shared in his sorrow, how she felt for the terrible loss that he had suffered.
Captives: Kingdoms Rule Hearts Page 14
