The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  At the last minute she asked Bella to wait while she brought some of her riding garments out to her. Bella sat on her bed. Catherine’s royal attire, complete with crown, was quite visible in her wardrobe. She was glad she thought of it before bringing Bella in. While Catherine perused her clothing she wondered about the continued concealment of her royal title from Bella. What purpose did it serve now that Bella was well? The question was one she had been avoiding asking herself because she already knew the answer. Bella had been well enough for the past few days to leave Catherine’s private quarters. Catherine was not willing to give up this one, private indulgence in anonymity. But it was more than that, Bella engaged Catherine in ways that no one but Robert had ever been able to do. At days’ end, though, Robert had a home and a wife to return to, and who engaged him. Catherine relished Bella’s companionship for pure pleasure. While royals had the authority to command entertainment for their own enjoyment, Catherine did not take to that particular benefit of being queen. There lacked a reciprocity in the very act of commanding entertainment. With Bella the conversations flowed, the expectation to respond “regally” was pleasantly absent. There was an easy give and take, an ebb and flow that was sometimes missing, even with Robert, because of her title. And Catherine knew that all of this could disappear if Bella knew that she was, in fact, the queen.

  Catherine emerged from the wardrobe with three different outfits, each appropriate for an outing on horseback. Bella had spent her many weeks in simple, loose-fitting undergarments. Catherine saw that the thought of real clothes delighted her. She spread them out on the bed. Then, one by one, helped Bella try them on.

  The first was a red silk gown with matching turn backs. It had a crimson and black two piece kirtle with jeweled fore sleeves. The smock was white with black-worked wrist frills, a black velvet French hood with jewels, pearls and gold-work.

  The second outfit was made of green silk. The underside of the green was cream colored. It gathered from the floor to a point at the right side of the waist. The long, flared sleeves draped to a point from the gold braids at the shoulders. It, too, was lovely, but had a corset, and Bella desperately wished to avoid the discomfort of a corset just yet.

  It was the third dress that nearly made Catherine gasp. The blue of the gown was rich, deep, nearly the color of the autumn sky. When Bella held it up, her eyes matched the color, impossibly blue. It was trimmed in silver with a low cut neck and a v-shaped lace partlet that stood up from the sides of the décolleté. A silver jeweled belt hung in a ‘v’ just below the waist and tiny beads of silver hung in long strands to the middle of her thighs. Long, lighter blue silk wings draped from the underarms. A loose hood flowed up from the shoulders to cover her head.

  Catherine assisted Bella into it and thought she had never seen a vision so breathtaking. In fact, she had to work hard to keep her breath even and normal. Bella glowed with happiness and twirled in front of the mirror. Catherine knew that she must have grown tired of seeing herself in the drab, linen undergarments. The best part of this gown was that Bella could avoid wearing a corset.

  As Catherine worked to help Bella into and out of the gowns, she struggled with having to push down the fear that bubbled up within her when she accidentally brushed her hand against Bella’s skin. She found herself wishing for the easy, relaxed way that she and Bella related for the past many weeks. These new feelings cluttered what had previously been so simple, innocent and pure. Perhaps she needed to trust that easy intimacy would return. She took a deep breath.

  “I like this one the best,” Bella said of the blue silk, “and it fits the best.”

  Catherine could not take her eyes off of Bella. Finally, she said, “It is stunning on you. Please consider it yours. I never looked that good in it and I have rarely worn it.”

  Bella started toward Catherine to hug her in thanks, but Catherine turned and scooped up the other two gowns and made for the wardrobe. When she returned Bella was still admiring herself in the mirror.

  “I was sorry that you did not feel well enough to apply the salves last night,” Bella said as she looked at Catherine in the reflection. “It surprised me that they make such a difference.”

  The thought of rubbing the salves on Bella’s wounds made Catherine’s inside’s lurch. To continue with that daily ritual would be a curse, and a blessing. “I hope the discomfort did not prevent you from your rest last night,” she said softly.

  “The discomfort caused by the absence of the salve was not what caused me to lose sleep.” Bella reached for Catherine’s hand. “I was concerned for you. You left so suddenly that I thought perhaps I had offended you.”

  Catherine jerked her hand out of Bella’s. “You did no such thing. I simply was overcome by exhaustion and felt the need to lie down.”

  “Catherine, look at me,” Bella implored as she reached again for Catherine’s hand. “I know that something happened when we embraced. I felt it, too. Can you look at me and tell me that you felt nothing?”

  Catherine looked into Bella’s eyes and saw her own desire staring back at her. She saw, too, that Bella was not afraid. This fact terrified her even more. She shook her head.

  “What frightens you so?” Bella asked.

  Catherine did not know what to say…how to respond. There were no words for what she felt. She turned away, threw open the doors to the balcony and went out. As she stood with her head buried in her hands, Bella came and stood next to her, then reached out and placed her hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “What frightens you?”

  After a long silence Catherine said, “My very feelings frighten me, Bella. How can you not be frightened? I did not know it was possible to feel this way about a woman. I…this…we...” she stammered.

  Bella sighed. “I didn’t know it was possible either. But now I do know. Perhaps it is wrong for me to be unafraid.” When Catherine did not respond, Bella dropped her hand from Catherine’s shoulder and walked a few steps away, then turned back. “You stirred something deep within me. It has taken over. It is stronger than anything I have known. When you touch me I feel both the icy tingle of winter and the burn of flame licking my skin. I must fight not to grab hold of you and…”

  Catherine whirled to face her. “Stop it! Do you not believe that these feelings are wrong?” she interrupted. “Have you no knowledge of God’s laws?”

  Bella took a large breath and exhaled slowly, sadly. “Ah, you believe that our feelings are sinful?” It was really more a statement than a question. “Catherine, have we done anything that you cannot live with?”

  “I don’t know how I can live with the feelings themselves!” “Do your feelings for me torment you so much?” Bella asked.

  Her feelings did torment Catherine. It took all of her willpower not to reach out and pull Bella to her. She wanted desperately to fill her face with Bella’s hair, to touch her lips with her fingertips. Yet she believed that to do so would damn them both. It was not fair that she should want something so badly and have to deny herself. Knowing that she was denying Bella made it even worse. She would do anything for this woman. But all she said was, “I am confused by them. I have never felt this way about anyone before. I expected one day to feel this way about a man. Isn’t that how it is supposed to be? I don’t know how I can live with these feelings.” Catherine paused, and added, “Yet I cannot imagine not having you here.” Her eyes began to fill with tears as she struggled to sift her emotions into some sense of order.

  “I have been aware of my feelings for you for some weeks now.” Bella said. “They grew slowly, but grow they did. I have had much time to think about my feelings. Perhaps I am less afraid because I have already lost everything I hold dear.” She walked back into the room and over to the window near her pallet. She was silent for a moment before turning back to Catherine, who had followed. “When you found me I had nothing left to lose. But now I have found you. I have never felt so alive. When you are away from me, my thoughts are consumed with you. When you are near
I want you nearer, and nearer.”

  Tears fell from Catherine’s eyes and she did not respond for some time. Bella went to her and reached for her hand. This time Catherine did not resist, but felt her heart breaking with the knowledge that she could never kiss, or hold Bella in the way that her body demanded. Catherine shook her head, “It is not right. It cannot be,” she said softly.

  Bella reached to place her hand on Catherine’s face. “For now, then, let us just enjoy each other as we have these past weeks. We need do nothing about our feelings. I don’t wish to cause you any discomfort.” Catherine looked up and their eyes locked. They said nothing further, but for both of them, nothing demanded enormous effort.

  Chapter Six

  The days that followed were filled with temptation and desire. The women tried to resume their routine as they had fallen into it over the past weeks. They breakfasted together, and then Catherine left for a good part of the day. Evenings brought them back together for a simple supper. Bella’s baths continued, though less frequent, since it was obvious she didn’t require the ritual for wound comfort any longer.

  Neither of them mentioned discontinuing the bath. Perhaps it was the temptation itself, or the act of resisting it, but they both looked forward to it.

  Catherine never again neglected to apply the ointment to Bella’s wounds, which were nearly healed now. But before, Catherine’s fingers would gently dab the salve on each sore, now her hands massaged the oils into whole body parts…ankles up the legs, wrists up the arms, back, down to the roundness of buttocks. Sometimes Bella turned onto her back and reached for Catherine, but the queen resisted the urge to give in to an embrace. Catherine allowed her eyes to wander down to Bella’s breasts, but there she always stopped herself, always managing to stop herself from acting. However, she could not stop herself from wanting. At times she wondered if she were designing her own temptation so that she could feel noble when she did not succumb.

  Catherine no longer went to the church to pray. She had no desire for another confrontation with the Bishop. She found herself content to take her beads and her prayers elsewhere. Sometimes she prayed in her room, more often, however, it was the palace gardens that appealed to her. There she could walk in the midst of God’s own beauty and search for her comfort…and her salvation. But in the matter of Bella, she found no solace, no answer to her prayers, and no elimination of her earthly, unbidden desire. God, it seemed, had abandoned her in this issue. Or so she thought.

  If God had abandoned her, Robert, at least, had not. As faithful as ever, he met with her daily. Sometimes he went to her office, sometimes they walked the gardens. While mostly their talk revolved around matters of her safety and the kingdom, he always inquired about Isabella. During one of their meetings, as they strolled the gardens, Catherine was particularly on edge.

  “I don’t care what Lord Carfaggi thinks!” she fumed. “He’s a bitter, hateful man. He and the Bishop both infuriate me. If Carfaggi is so concerned about securing the western border then let him supply troops from his own land. Let him feed and clothe the soldiers. I am pleased enough with the security supplied by Lord Giovanni.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Do not patronize me, Robert! I am in no state.”

  “I can see that. What has put you in such a foul state?”

  “Nothing.” Catherine shook her head irritably and sat on a stone bench. Just as quickly she stood again.

  “What is it?” asked Robert.

  “Nothing!” she practically shouted at him. Then softly, apologetically, “I am sorry, Robert. I do not mean to…” She stopped herself, turned to him and said, “Saddle our horses. Take me to the woods and let’s practice with our swords!”

  “Yes, Majesty!” Robert smiled. He thumped his chest happily with his fist and bowed.

  When they were younger Robert was expected to learn all of the martial arts as part of his training. He was quick to learn and an excellent swordsman. It wasn’t long before he was training the younger boys in sword technique. Whenever she could, Catherine watched him train. She was not permitted, as a princess, to train in any of the fighting arts. But swords always intrigued her. One afternoon when they were about thirteen years old she asked if he would take her on as a student.

  “No,” Robert answered.

  “Why not?”

  “You are forbidden to train with the sword and I am sworn to protect you.”

  “It’s a stupid rule, and when I am queen I will abolish it. How could teaching me to defend myself be a bad thing? “I did not make the rule, Princess,” he replied, “I am only sworn to uphold it.”

  “Robert, please,” she begged, “just for fun, then. It does look like such a great deal of fun! And it would be good practice for you, as well.”

  Robert adored his cousin, and always had difficulty saying no to her. “What if we are caught?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  “We won’t be caught. We can go into the forest to practice. No one will find us if we’re careful.”

  Robert shook his head, “I don’t think it a good idea at all.”

  “Well, then, I shall simply have to command you. As your future queen I hereby command you to teach me the ways of the sword,” she stated quite haughtily.

  Robert laughed, “Well, then, your future Majesty, I am at your service.”

  Every opportunity following that afternoon Robert and Catherine escaped to the forest. He taught her everything he knew about swordsmanship. She was actually quite a good student and once the muscles in her sword arm strengthened sufficiently, she was able to spar with Robert well enough to feel that she actually could use a sword if need be. Once she became queen she did, in fact, abolish the rule forbidding royal women from training in any of the fighting arts. Whenever she traveled about the country she always had her sword with her.

  She and Robert made for their old secret training ground. Robert dragged some fallen tree limbs from the clearing while Catherine put on her protective gear. She wore a shirt of chain mail and a helmet for practice because Robert insisted. Her sword had been a gift from Robert on her fifteenth birthday. He had worked with a blacksmith for several months to design something for her that would be functional and more protective than standard blade types. Ultimately, it had to be lighter than other swords, without compromising the strength. With Robert’s assistance, the smith finally created one that was very lightweight, the hilt of which was a complex twist of metal on the blade side of the grip. The twisting metal was designed to protect the hand of the holder and was much less dense and heavy than a regular cross guard. It had a dual protective quality in that if the blade of the opponent’s sword tip moved into the coiled metal Catherine could disarm her opponent with a mere twist of her wrist. The grip was smaller than normal to accommodate her hand. The forte of the blade, the strongest portion from the hilt to the center of the blade, was thinner than most to lighten it even more, but it still needed to be strong enough to withstand and block blows. The forte also needed strength enough to add slightly more length to make up for Catherine’s smaller stature. If she could not easily reach her opponents, they would have a distinct advantage over her in reach. Finally, he had her family coat of arms engraved on the pommel. All in all it was quite an elegant sword. Catherine was more excited about the sword than any gift she could ever remember receiving. She cherished it more than any crown or jewel that she possessed.

  They moved to the clearing and crossed swords. At first the attacks and deflections were simple, standard, and allowed them some warm up to move in to more complicated moves.

  Catherine had learned well from Robert how to fake some attacks in order to catch her opponent off guard so that she might take advantage while they were distracted. She faked a move toward his face. He was easily able to deflect her sword, but already knew that her real target was his femoral artery. He was ready and instantly swung his sword down. He swept her blade away in a circular motion.

  The sounds of the swords stri
king against one another became more and more intense. With each blow Catherine’s moves focused more on attacking. This was unusual for her during practice. Generally, Robert insisted that she focus on learning to protect herself.

  Robert, aware of this dramatic change, found himself working harder than usual as she relentlessly attacked him from every angle. At one point she stepped back from him and then spun herself around with her sword in the air to avoid one of his lunges. She ended with her sword on his neck. If this had been for real, she could easily have beheaded him.

  After about thirty minutes Catherine cried, “Enough! Enough, cousin! I am spent!” She collapsed onto a dead tree log on the edge of the clearing.

  When they put their swords down both were breathing heavily. When he finally caught his breath Robert asked, “What battle were we waging, your Majesty?”

  She smiled, exhausted, “What makes you think this was anything but a practice?”

  “I saw your face as you fought, and I felt the force of your blows. Unless you’re angry with me for some reason, you were battling an enemy,” he looked questioningly at her.

  Catherine sighed. “The enemy is myself only, dear cousin, and I don’t wish to talk about it,” she walked toward her horse to put up her sword and retrieve her water bag.

  “I suspect,” he said as he followed, “that this might have to do with a rumor about your Lady Isabella?”

  “What have you heard?” She whirled toward him. “Tell me!” At once she was angry and fearful.

  “Don’t be upset,” he pleaded. “You understand better than anyone the small minds and wagging tongues.”

  “Small though those minds may be, the Bishop has let me know that he suspects the rumors to be true,” she said, “and that is no insignificant wagging tongue.”

  “True,” said Robert with concern. “Who do you suspect of starting the rumors?”

  “Isabella is tormented, as you might imagine. There are nights she cannot sleep for the terrible dreams. On occasion I have fallen asleep beside her while helping her back to sleep. Marie has found us together.” She wondered if Robert could see through her, if he knew how she really felt about Isabella. She wanted to talk to someone about her feelings, and Robert was closer to her than anyone, but she did not trust that he would understand. So she lied to him. “I am sorely disappointed if it’s Marie who is spreading an ugly lie that is, in fact, a kind gesture only.”