The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  When Kate brought the dirty linen to the kitchen, Joan was shelling peas, her movements efficient and practiced. Walter sat at the table, enjoying a slice of buttered bread and a cup of ale. He made to rise when Kate walked in, but she motioned for him to remain seated.

  “Good day, mistress,” Water said as soon as he swallowed the bite he’d been chewing.

  “Walter, have you seen Master Guy?” Kate tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart raced beneath her calm exterior.

  “Not since the day before last,” Walter replied. “He went off somewhere.”

  “I see.”

  “Were ye needing him for something?” Joan’s hands stilled as she watched Kate with that knowing smirk.

  “No. I just wondered, that’s all.”

  “He’ll come back when he’s good and ready. That’s Guy’s way,” Joan replied, oozing disapproval as her hands returned to her task.

  “I’m sure he will.”

  Kate left the basket of linen and went back to her room. She just wanted to be alone, especially since the nausea was making itself known again and gnawing at her guts as it intensified. She was curled up in the window seat when there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Come,” Kate called, hoping it wasn’t Joan. Some days the woman really grated on her.

  It was Eleanor. She looked pale and sad, her golden hair hidden beneath a dun-colored veil that matched her plain, serviceable gown. “How do you fare, Kate?” she asked.

  “I’m well. Thank you.”

  “Won’t you join me in the Lady Chamber? It’s rather quiet without you.” Eleanor stood awkwardly in the doorway. She’d never actively sought out Kate’s company, taking for granted that Kate would be there whenever she felt like talking to her. “I’ve started a new piece of embroidery. With Adam gone, there’s much less mending to do,” she added wistfully.

  Kate had no desire to make small talk with Eleanor, but she felt sorry for the woman. Losing Adam was a big adjustment for her, even if she’d always known the separation would come. “I’m sure Adam is well,” Kate offered as she hauled herself to her feet.

  “I worry about him so. He’s so young and vulnerable. What if he gets hurt or falls ill?”

  “Eleanor, the earl is a kind man. He looks after his people. Adam will thrive under his tutelage. You’ll see.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but you will,” Eleanor replied spitefully. “Just wait until your child is torn from you, and it will be, be it a boy or a girl. And that’s if both of you even survive the birth.”

  Kate blanched at Eleanor’s words. Was Eleanor hoping she’d miscarry, or die in childbed? Did she dislike her that much, or was there some other reason for her venom? She knew Eleanor was unhappy. A widow was about as useful to society as a three-legged horse, unless she could be married off to forge an alliance with another family or expand the family’s holdings, but since Hugh never sought another marriage for Eleanor, she was caught in a an unenviable position. Eleanor was still attractive enough to tempt a man, and fertile enough to bear children, but without the means of getting on with her life, she was left to fade away and turn to dust as time wove its spell and stripped her of her beauty and vitality. Whatever Eleanor’s reasons, Kate couldn’t bring herself to ignore the barb.

  “You know, Eleanor, I feel unwell after all. I think I’ll remain here for a spell, if you don’t mind. Please shut the door on your way out.”

  Kate turned away, but not before she saw the flare of resentment in the other woman’s eyes.

  Kate remained in her chamber for the rest of the afternoon. At any other time, she would have become lonely and left her room to seek the companionship of other women, but at the moment, she didn’t mind the solitude. She opened the window and allowed the gentle breeze to caress her face as she looked out over the verdant hills and mist-shrouded valleys. The Tweed flowed peacefully past, the river rippling and sparkling playfully as it wound into the distance. Kate wished she could get into a boat with Guy and float away to a place where no one knew them and they could choose their own destiny and live out their days in blissful anonymity.

  A knock on the door startled Kate out of her reverie. Perhaps Eleanor had returned, either to demand that Kate join her or to apologize for her thoughtless comment. Or maybe it was Joan, coming to check on Kate and offer unsolicited advice, as she did more and more now that Kate was with child.

  Instead, Guy came in and closed the door softly behind him before joining her at the window. “I’ve come back.”

  “I thought I’d driven you away,” Kate replied, smiling foolishly. The sight of Guy restored her spirits and her heart soared with certainty that he still loved her.

  “There was a bit of intelligence I needed to follow up on,” Guy explained.

  “What sort of intelligence? Is it to do with Warwick?”

  “No, this venture was of a purely personal nature. At the Christmas feast, Amelia Ambrose’s father made several comments about lecherous priests,” he said. “Do you recall?”

  Kate shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention to what he said. He’s a bit of a zealot, isn’t he? He sees sin everywhere.”

  “He does, but it got me thinking. So I went to Newcastle to do some digging.”

  “Guy, I don’t follow.”

  “I spent several days visiting taverns, especially those close to the Cathedral Church of St. Nicholas, which happens to be the seat of the Bishop of Newcastle.”

  “What were you hoping to accomplish?”

  “Bishop Bridewell is a well-respected member of the diocese. He’s always taken a hard line on sin, particularly carnal sin, preaching eternal damnation, and threatening his parishioners with the fires of hell should they commit the slightest transgression. He doesn’t believe in repentance or forgiveness, only punishment and the everlasting wrath of a vengeful God.”

  “Sounds like the type of clergyman we should avoid at all cost, given our history.” Kate tried to make a joke, but her voice sounded small and frightened. She was utterly baffled by Guy’s strange errand.

  “I was hoping to learn something of the bishop, and I did. It would appear that the very pious Bishop Bridewell, a man of seventy who’s devoted his life to the Church, regularly visits a certain woman at her lodgings, and arrives there sans his clerical robes.”

  “Who is she?” Kate asked, intrigued.

  “She’s his mistress, and has been for the past decade, during which time she bore the bishop three children. I’ve no doubt there were others before her. He’s sired half the bastards in Newcastle.”

  “What’s this to do with us?”

  Guy shook his head and smiled at Kate’s naiveté. “Kate, if Hugh agrees to an annulment, it’ll be that much easier to obtain if we have a bishop who’s willing to see it through. And what would make a geriatric bishop cooperate short of a threat to his livelihood and reputation?”

  Kate stared at him. This wasn’t the Guy she knew. This man was ruthless and calculating, ready to exploit someone’s weakness for his own gain. This was also a man who loved her and was willing to go to any lengths to free her from her marriage to Hugh. What Guy had done was an act of devotion, and a declaration of love for her and their child. He would never blackmail someone for money or power, only for love.

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Deadly. I won’t leave you ever again, Kate.”

  Her eyes flew to the door as it opened to reveal Joan holding a basket of clean linen on her hip.

  “Guy, I thought I saw ye sneaking about. Come to visit yer devoted sister-in-law, have ye?” Joan gave them both an acid stare before stowing the clean garments in the chest at the foot of the bed and departing.

  “Do you think she overheard?” Kate said as the door closed behind Joan.

  “Her hearing’s not what it used to be. She’s getting on in years,” Guy observed. He dismissed Joan and returned to the earlier topic. “Kate, I need to know that you agree before
I confront Hugh. No sense poking a hornet’s nest and getting stung if you won’t agree to go through with it.”

  Kate lowered her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of Guy’s gaze. Annulling her marriage, which was legal and valid, went against everything she believed in, but it might be her only chance at happiness. She doubted Hugh would agree, but if he did, she and Guy could marry and be a family. They could live in love and understanding and raise their children together. They could be happy. Even thinking along those lines made Kate cringe with guilt. What right did she have to ask for happiness? And what would be the price of that happiness? Hugh would be humiliated and ridiculed, and Kate would have to live with her deceit for the rest of her days. The world might believe that the marriage hadn’t been valid, but she’d know the truth. Was she ready to risk her soul for a future that might never be?

  Kate’s hand went to her belly. Deep inside, a little person slumbered, waiting to be born, oblivious to all the strife its very existence had caused. Guy would never have conceived of blackmailing a bishop of the Church if it weren’t for Kate’s pregnancy. Or perhaps he would. He wasn’t a man to lurk in the shadows and pick crumbs from his brother’s table. Guy was willing to fight for what he wanted, and he was daring her to be brave and honest and do the same.

  “All right. I agree,” Kate whispered, shocked by her own boldness. “When will you speak to Hugh?”

  “Tonight.”

  “No, please. Not yet. I need a little time to come to terms with what we’re about to do. Wait until after the Feast of Ascension.”

  Guy looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement. “All right. If that will make it easier for you.”

  Chapter 70

  May 1465

  Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland

  Kate trudged miserably up the stairs, stopping every few steps to catch her breath. She’d felt a little better the past few days, but the nausea had come back with a vengeance this afternoon, reminding her that she wasn’t over the worst of the sickness yet. Joan had insisted she remain behind in bed and rest, for the child’s sake, but Kate had wished to participate in the celebration. The Feast of Ascension was one of her favorite feast days as it was usually marked by picnics held on hilltops. It was traditional to eat some sort of fowl, to symbolize the flight of Jesus to the heavens, and whatever fruit was to hand. The fruit was blessed by the priest after the Memento of the Dead.

  Bless, O Lord, these new fruits of the vine which Thou hast brought to maturity by the dew of heaven, by plentiful rains and by tranquil and favorable weather. Thou hast given us this fruit for our use that we may receive it with thanks in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

  The blessing referred more to grapes, but as grapes were hard to come by in Northumberland, they had to do with the oranges that Hugh had managed to procure for the occasion. There had been only three, and they’d had to share, but the few slivers of the juicy fruit were ambrosia. Kate had devoured her share, her body starved for nutrients after months of monotonous winter food. Perhaps it was the orange that brought on this infernal sickness again, or perhaps it was fear of what was to come. Guy meant to speak to Hugh this night, and demand that he release Kate from their marriage. He’d been simmering since returning from Newcastle, and if she didn’t give him leave to act, his temper would boil over.

  As Kate had sat on a blanket overlooking the swift-flowing river and the rolling hills beyond, she had tried to calm herself by recalling the feasts of her childhood, when she’d spent the day with her parents and brothers, enjoying the fine spring weather after months of snow and rain. She could hardly remember the church services, or the food her mother had Cook prepare for their feasts, but she remembered the mood of those picnics. She’d felt safe and happy, delighted by the carefree banter between her parents and the camaraderie of her brothers. How life had changed since those sunny days.

  Kate finally reached her chamber, kicked off her shoes, and crawled into bed. The room was pleasantly cool, and the dim confines of the bed were a welcome change from the sunshine outside. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on her growing belly, willing the babe inside to make itself known. She’d felt it for the first time only about a week ago, a gentle flutter that came and went, hardly noticeable at first, but impossible to ignore once she’d realized what it must be. . It took a few minutes now, but eventually she felt a bump against her hand, like that of a kicking foot. Could it be a foot? Or an elbow?

  Kate sighed miserably. This should have been a happy time, even with the persistent sickness, but the thought of what would happen in a few short hours left her insides lurching with fear. She wanted to be with Guy more than anything, to live in harmony and raise their child in love, but Hugh wouldn’t take this lightly, nor would the Church. She and Guy had sinned, and now they wanted to legalize their sin and thwart the laws of God. It felt wrong. Kate tried to explain her fears to Guy when he’d followed her to the chapel that morning, but he brushed her reservations aside, determined to see this through.

  “Don’t you love me?” Guy had demanded when Kate broached the subject. “Don’t you want to leave Hugh and be free to follow your heart for once in your life?”

  “You know I do, but I’m frightened, Guy. Do you know anyone who’s been granted an annulment?”

  Guy looked at her for a moment, considering the question. “No, I don’t.”

  “Guy, the Church will not release me from my vows, even if we publicly confess that the child I carry is not my husband’s. We will be disgraced, humiliated, and punished for our misdeeds. I fear for our child. He’ll be branded a bastard, a child of sin. And what of Hugh? He might not be the husband of my heart, but he is my husband before the law. Does your brother deserve to be dishonored before everyone he knows?”

  “Hugh’s not been a good husband to you,” Guy had snapped.

  “He’s been no worse than most. Do you believe that every marriage in Christendom is based on love and mutual respect?”

  “Kate, you asked me to wait until the Feast of Ascension and that is what I have done. Tonight, I will confront Hugh, unless you tell me not to, but if you do, know that I will leave and never return. The choice is yours. I won’t force you, but neither will I live my life in secret, always skulking in the shadows and hiding from the truth.”

  The answer had sprung to her lips, urgent and filled with longing. “Don’t go,” she had whispered. “Please, don’t go. I can’t go on without you.”

  Drawing her close, he had pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll never leave you, Kate, not even if you ask me to.”

  “We must get back before anyone misses us,” Kate had said, pulling away from Guy. “I just heard Joan outside.”

  “After tonight we won’t have to hide ever again. Everyone will know.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of, Kate had thought as she’d watched Guy slip out of the chapel and walk away.

  Chapter 71

  Kate raised herself on her elbow and reached for the cup of ale someone had thoughtfully left by her bed. The slight movement brought on a new bout of nausea, but the ale helped settle her stomach. It was cool and bitter, more so than usual, but she hardly noticed. She was thirsty, so she drained the cup and lay back down, breathing deeply until the wave of sickness began to ebb. Perhaps it was the potency of the drink, but Kate felt pleasantly detached, her mind at peace for the first time in weeks. She began to drift, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness as her body relaxed into the mattress. Perhaps she’d sleep for a while.

  She wasn’t frightened at first. The twitches in her belly seemed insignificant, like the rumbling of distant thunder, and the shortness of breath and nausea had been her constant companions for several weeks. It wasn’t until that first sharp pain that she began to worry, wondering if something might be truly wrong. She tried to sit up, desperate to pull apart the bed hangings and allow some light into the dim confines of the bed, but another pain sliced through her, forcing her back down and pinning her to the
mattress. She rolled onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest, praying for the pain to stop, but it didn’t. Waves of nausea and dizziness rolled over her as the spasms in her womb intensified, no longer rumbles of thunder, but sharp, jagged bolts of lightning. Her extremities began to go numb, as her vision blurred and her hearing faded out. She tried to call for help, but her cry was like the whimper of a newborn kitten.

  “Dear God, please, no,” she prayed as hot, sticky blood began to flow between her legs, her womb mercilessly forcing the baby out. Somewhere deep inside she’d known that this could never be. She owed God a debt and He’d come to collect, with interest. He wouldn’t allow a sinner like her to taste such joy. God was vengeful, and He was cruel, and in her time of need He had forsaken her.

  She began to tremble violently as her breath came in short gasps, no longer seeing the darkness of her curtained world. What she saw were the faces of those she’d loved, floating before her like wispy clouds before the moon.

  As she lay in a pool of her own blood, and life drained from her battered body, she had one final thought:

  I’ve been murdered.

  Chapter 72

  September 2014

  London, England

  Quinn dropped the rosary. The pain she’d experienced in her vision didn’t fade away, but intensified, forcing her to curl up on the bed and hug her knees. Her womb was contracting, the skin growing taut with every spasm. Quinn tried to think calmly as she searched for a more comfortable position. She’d experienced mild Braxton Hicks contractions on and off since the second trimester, but Dr. Malik had assured her this was perfectly normal and not a prelude to a miscarriage. The contractions were more uncomfortable than painful, and usually went away after about a half hour. This pain was more intense, but she was also closer to her due date, so perhaps this was all par for the course.