Dark Destroyer

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Gates reached out and took her arm, pulling her towards the kitchen gate. “So you say,” he said cruelly. The woman had angered him and now he was behaving poorly, miffed with anyone who would try to blackmail him. “Go, now. I do not want to see you again.”

  Helene yanked her arm away from him, sharply, startling the child in her arms so it started to wail. She staggered towards the kitchen gate as Gates shepherded her in that direction, making sure she went through the gate and then ensuring it was locked behind her. He watched her wander off, her weeping fading as she moved away from the castle through the snow-topped trees. He couldn’t even manage to dredge up any sympathy for her, greedy woman that she was.

  But he knew, instinctively, that it would not be the last time he saw her.

  The first thing Kathalin realized about her mother’s chamber was the smell; clove and something else, permeating everything around them. It was quite heavy. Upon entering the lavish and warm chamber, Jasper sneezed twice and even Kathalin’s nose wrinkled up at the pungent smell.

  “Jasper?” came a soft voice. “Is that you?”

  Jasper had a grip on Kathalin’s arm, pulling her to a halt just inside the door. “Aye,” he said. “I have brought our daughter. Come and greet her.”

  Still embittered from her conversation with Jasper, Kathalin truly wasn’t in any mood to be social but as she stood there, she couldn’t help but notice her mother’s luxurious chamber. Although her room was quite glorious, this chamber was far more lavish with great embroidered tapestries hung from the walls, covering the cold stone. Kathalin caught sight of the one nearest to her, back by the door, and she gazed up at the magnificent piece that seemed to depict a biblical scene. There was an angel and animals in it, all finely woven works of great detail. As she studied the tapestry, she heard movement over on the enormous bed.

  “Kathalin!” a woman’s voice gasped and the bed began to twitch. There were heavy curtains all around it, making it impossible to see what was taking place on the bed, but whatever it was had it moving about a great deal. “I am so glad you have finally arrived. It is terrible weather to be traveling in, but thanks to God that you made it.”

  She seemed quite excited. Jasper, having his iron grip on Kathalin, stood a couple of feet away from his daughter.

  “Thank Gates for ensuring she arrived safely,” he said to his wife. “It is by his strength and skill alone that she made it intact. It seems that there was much turmoil in her coming here.”

  They could hear feet on the floor, shuffling, and the bed stopped moving. The shuffling was growing closer, coming around the end of the bed, and suddenly a swaddled figure appeared. Covered from head to toe in dark fabric except for around her face and hands, which were covered with pale fabric, only the woman’s eyes were visible. Nothing else. But those eyes were of a brilliant blue, crinkling when she caught sight of Kathalin.

  Kathalin, however, couldn’t help but be curious and the least bit apprehensive about a woman who was covered completely with fabric except for her eyes. Her anger with Jasper faded somewhat as she focused on the figure; this wasn’t the mother she remembered, at least not in whole, but the eyes… there was something familiar there. They stirred something deep in her memory.

  “Turmoil?” Rosamund repeated, her voice muffled through the fabric across her face. “What happened?”

  “Welsh,” Jasper replied. “They raided St. Milburga’s and had Gates not arrived when he did, I am not entirely sure we would still have a daughter. It is more fortuitous that we sent him when we did. God was merciful.”

  Rosamund couldn’t take her eyes from her daughter. She came close to her but not too close. She could see Jasper backing away and she realized she must have been moving in too closely. She stopped a few feet from Kathalin, the bright blue eyes moist.

  “Then I am grateful for God’s mercy and for Gates and his skill,” she said. “Kathalin, do you remember me? I am Rosamund, your mother.”

  Kathalin nodded, although she seriously wondered why the woman was covered from head to toe. More than that, she had noticed Jasper backing away when the woman came close. That seemed very odd to her. It was enough to ease her anger at the situation, momentarily, as her curiosity took hold.

  “I remember you,” she said.

  Rosamund’s eyes crinkled as she evidently smiled beneath her veil. “I am glad,” she said. “It has been a long time.”

  “Aye, it has.”

  Rosamund warmed to her daughter. “I am very glad to see you again, my dear,” she said. “Welcome home.”

  The anger abruptly returned. Kathalin thought her mother’s statement was particularly offensive and she wasn’t in a forgiving or pleasant mood. So it was good to see her again, was it? After fourteen years of silence, suddenly, it was good to see her again? Kathalin knew the only reason the woman was glad to see her was because it would complete some manner of political marriage she had in mind. It had nothing to do with Kathalin personally.

  It had everything to do with being a de Lara pawn.

  “This is not my home,” she said after a moment. “My home is St. Milburga’s. My last memory of you is when you screamed at me and then sent me away. You have spent the past fourteen years ignoring me. Why in the world should you be happy to see me again?”

  Rosamund was taken aback by the venom of Kathalin’s words. The smile vanished from her face because her eyes grew wide. Next to Kathalin, Jasper growled.

  “Insolent girl,” he chastised. “You are a wicked child to speak to your mother so.”

  Kathalin stepped back, away from Jasper and away from Rosamund. “Why?” she demanded, exasperation in her tone. “Why, in God’s name, is either of you happy to see me? Do you not understand? You abandoned me as a child and I find it incredibly offensive that you expect me to forget about that. You act as if you have done nothing wrong while I am made to look ungrateful and hateful because I resent the fact that I have been taken from the only home I have ever known by two people who are strangers to me. How did you think I would feel about this? If you think I am happy to see you, then you are grossly mistaken. I am not happy about any of this. The only reason you want me is to cement some kind of political alliance so I would appreciate it if you would both stop acting as if there is some affection between us and treat me as you would any other person under your command. For you to try and become parents to me at this point in my life is ridiculous.”

  Jasper’s jaw flexed dangerously and he took a step towards her but Rosamund threw out an arm, stopping him.

  “Nay, Jasper,” she commanded softly. When she was sure Jasper was stilled, she returned her attention to Kathalin. “I am very sorry you feel that way, Kathalin. There were reasons why you were sent away, my dear, and you will simply have to trust that they were good reasons. It was not to abandon you.”

  Kathalin had hoped when she had this conversation with her parents that it would have been with a cooler head, but at this moment, that was not to be. She was far too emotional, feeling hurt and anger well up in her that she thought had been long buried. As she had those years ago, she began feeling the pain of abandonment, the realization that she was unwanted. They were horrible things to feel again.

  “Then what do you call it?” she asked, her voice tremulous with emotion. “I was five years old, Rosamund. You sent a five-year-old girl away with a soldier who kept pinching my arse. When that wasn’t enough, he would put his hands between my legs and laugh when I screamed. He dropped me off at St. Milburga’s and the nuns took me in, soothed my tears, fed me, and taught me everything I know. For the first few years, I prayed that you would come and take me home but when that did not happen, I prayed for a kind word from you. But you never sent me a missive, not ever. You ignored me for fourteen years and had de Wolfe not removed me from St. Milburga’s by force, I would have never come back to Hyssington, ever. As far as I am concerned, I do not have parents.”

  A family reunion that should have been a joyous happen
stance had become something cold and tense. Jasper was so angry that his lips were white and it was only by Rosamund’s hand that he wasn’t grabbing Kathalin by the hair and dragging her downstairs where Gates and Alexander could throw her in the vault. Insolence never went over well with him and, at that moment, he was struggling with his temper. Rosamund knew this. Quietly, she indicated a cushioned chair near the hearth.

  “Will you sit, Kathalin?” she asked politely. “I do not mean to be rude, but it is difficult for me to stand any length of time. Will you please sit so that we may continue the conversation?”

  Kathalin had no intention of sitting. “Nay, I will not,” she said. “You may sit if you wish. I will converse with you from where I am standing.”

  Rosamund went to the chair and sat down, heavily. She grunted a great deal, as if she were in pain, and her maid, who had been seated in the corner, ran over to help her adjust pillows behind her back. When the little maid scooted back into the shadows, Rosamund turned to Jasper.

  “Leave us, please,” she said to her husband. “I will speak with Kathalin alone.”

  Jasper was glad to leave. He didn’t like women and he certainly didn’t like their drama, so he left without another word. If he’d remained, he knew he couldn’t have guaranteed his composure. As Jasper fled the chamber, Kathalin remained in her spot by the door, unmoving. She watched her mother carefully.

  “Now,” Rosamund said softly. “You feel abandoned. After you have explained your feelings to me, I can understand why you would feel that way. I am very sorry to hear it. It was not my intention to abandon you. But I… well, sending you to St. Milburga’s was necessary.”

  Kathalin was unforgiving. “Why?”

  Rosamond’s eyes turned to her. “Because you had to be removed from my presence.”

  That was not a helpful answer. In fact, it only served to hurt and anger Kathalin more. More exasperation bled forth as she threw up her hands in frustration. “Then why did you ever have children if you found us so offensive?” she demanded. “Moreover, why must you ruin my life by bringing me back here for your political games? I do not want to be a wife. I want to take my vows as a nun. Lord de Lara said he received my missive requesting such a thing so I know you must be aware of it, too. Why torture me by forcing me to do something I not wish to do?”

  Rosamund fell silent a moment. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “It is not that I found my children offensive, my dear,” she said softly. “It was because my health could not take the excitement. I am quite sure by your manner and your words that you do not care about my health, but I do not tell you this to gain sympathy. I tell you this for your understanding. I could not have children about. It only inflamed my condition. You said that your last memory of me is of me screaming at you… I will not deny it. I was in a good deal of pain. I had not yet learned to manage it.”

  In spite of her anguish, Kathalin could feel her guard going down a bit at Rosamund’s softly uttered words. Naturally, she was curious. It was an unexpected factor in the history of her resentment towards her parents, perhaps a reason behind everything. Had she even been looking for a reason behind her parents’ abandonment? It wasn’t something that had crossed her mind but now that Rosamund spoke of such things, Kathalin was lured towards the possibilities.

  “What pain?” she asked. “What is your affliction?”

  Rosamund looked at her, the bright blue eyes glimmering. It was a moment before she spoke. “St. Milburga’s is a healing order, is it not?”

  Kathalin nodded. “It is,” she said. “But surely you knew that when you sent me there.”

  “I did.”

  Kathalin nodded, a confirmation of understanding. “I have been trained by the nuns in healing ways,” she said. “I learned a great deal from them. What is your ailment?”

  Rosamund looked away, down at her lap as if contemplating a response. She reached out a wrapped hand, touching her arm through the fabric, perhaps considering what she should say.

  “You must understand,” she murmured, “this is not common knowledge. I do not wish for anyone else to know.”

  Kathalin’s curiosity grew. “I will swear to you that I will not tell a soul,” she said. “But you brought this up. You mentioned that you have an affliction. If you did not want me to know of it, you would not have mentioned it.”

  She had a point. Rosamund sighed quietly before replying. “Will you come to me, please?” she asked politely. “Not too close.”

  Driven by interest, Kathalin moved towards the woman, slowly, coming to within a couple of feet of her. Not too close. As she watched, Rosamund unwrapped one of her hands, pulling off the pale fabric, and her flesh suddenly became exposed to the light. Kathalin immediately saw the lesions, the discoloration, and the loss of two fingers. They were stubby and rounded at the tip. Deeply curious, she leaned forward to get a better look and as she noticed the particularly bad lesions on the palm of the hand, Rosamund whispered.

  “I am a leper, my dear,” she said. “It was just starting to show itself when you were very young. I sent you and your brothers away so that you would not become infected with it.”

  The hammer dropped and suddenly, Kathalin couldn’t breathe. It was as if a thunderclap had deafened her, evaporated her senses, because all resentment and anger within her heart suddenly vanished. Her jaw dropped as Rosamund quickly covered her hand again, tucking the appendage back into its cloth covering, but it couldn’t erase the memory of that horror from Kathalin’s mind.

  It couldn’t erase what she had seen.

  Everything, all of it, began to make sense to her now; Rosamund had been given a death sentence with this horrible affliction and she had children to protect. Now, all Kathalin could see was an ailing woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice. Dear God, was it really true? Had she spent all of those years resenting a woman who did not deserve it?

  Distraught, she collapsed onto her knees before Rosamund.

  “My God…,” she breathed. “Is it true?”

  “It is.”

  “But… did you know that Milburga is the patron saint of lepers?”

  “I did, which is why I chose it to protect you.”

  I chose it to protect you. Kathalin was stunned. It was too much information, overwhelming her, but also helping her to see the situation clearly for the first time. Now, things were starting to make some sense.

  “Then… then you have had this condition for many years,” she said softly.

  Rosamond nodded, her blue eyes moist. “Aye,” she said quietly. “Many years. The finest doctors told me I had a dreaded disease and advised me to send my children away so they would not contract it. They advised Jasper to leave as well, or at the very least, take me to a home where I would be with others of my kind, but Jasper would not do it. He did not want rumors to get around that his wife was a leper, so I remain with him and he is a very unhappy man. Do not judge him too harshly, my dear. His life did not turn out as he had hoped, nor did mine.”

  Kathalin was flabbergasted. Stunned, her head swimming, all she could do was stare up at her mother and feel more pity than she had ever felt in her life. But along with the pity, she felt tremendous guilt, guilt for hating her parents for all of those years, guilt for believing they had not wanted her. Abandoned her. Emitting a loud, harsh gasp, she hung her head.

  “God’s Bones,” she said with understanding. “I can hardly believe this. You sent me away to protect me.”

  “I did.”

  Kathalin’s head came up, tears in her eyes. “If that is true, then why did you not send me any missives?” she wanted to know, struggling with her hurt and guilt. “For all of those years, you never once contacted me. I thought you had forgotten me. Why did you not send me any word?”

  Rosamund’s brilliant eyes were laced with sorrow. “Because I did not want you to remember me,” she said. “I know it sounds foolish, Kathalin, but I wanted you to become accustomed to your new life and grow to love
it, and forget about me. I wanted you to forget about ever coming home. Mayhap it was foolish, but I did not know what else to do.”

  Kathalin couldn’t accept that explanation. “Yet you have sent for me, now,” she said, rising to her feet and moving away, agitated. “You have brought me home so that you may marry me off to an ally. That is not fair to me! I came to love St. Milburga’s as you had hoped, but now you want me back? I am an adult, Rosamund. My life is at the priory and I want to go back!”

  Rosamund could see that. Now it was she who began to feel confused and anxious at the situation, understanding that her daughter was her own person. She had found the life she wanted to live and all of that was now threatened.

  “I can see that,” Rosamund said. “It did not occur to me that you would not be happy to return to your family and fulfill your duty as a de Lara daughter.”

  Kathalin simply looked at her, pain in her expression. “I have not been a de Lara daughter for many years,” she said, trying not to be so harsh. “I have been a ward of St. Milburga’s. I have learned to heal, I have learned to read and write, and I manage the kitchens. I am not a lady of refinement, one that would be expected in marrying a de Lara ally. Do you realize that? When you sent me to St. Milburga’s, you sent me to learn the ways of the church, not the ways of a refinement. I would embarrass myself in a great household, as things would be expected of me that I know nothing about. Did that ever occur to you, either?”

  Rosamund shook her head. “It did not,” she said. Her gaze lingered on her daughter a moment. “You are not suited for the life we expect from you.”

  Kathalin shook her head slowly. “I am not,” she said. “But that is your fault. Did you truly think that sending me to a convent would produce a fine and skilled lady?”

  Rosamund fell silent, looking to her lap again. She could see, clearly, what her daughter was telling her and it was the truth. Kathalin would not know how to run a household or how to behave in noble and proper society. All Kathalin knew was prayer and kitchens. She truly hadn’t thought of any of that until now and her heart sank; why hadn’t she considered it?