The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  Catherine saw the pain and fear in Bella’s face. She looked at Marie, smiled, and reached for the bundle.

  If Catherine thought that denying her love for Bella was impossible, what happened to her next was nothing short of miraculous. She hadn’t expected or prepared for anything but a resigned acceptance of the child. At first she was only aware of the weight and warmth of the child. The scent of him wafted up to her nostrils and she looked down. Her reaction was instantaneous and overwhelming. This was no child of the devil.

  “Oh!” whispered Catherine as she looked at him, “hello.” He looked back at her, blinking, and gurgled. Never had Catherine felt such a tug at her heart. She looked down at the face of an angel, and she fell instantly and completely in love. Catherine’s awe and instincts surprised her. She knew, without doubt, that loving and protecting this defenseless little bundle gave new dimension…new meaning to her life.

  “Bella, Bella,” Catherine whispered, “he is beautiful.”

  Bella refused to look. “I don’t want to look at him. Take him away, Marie.”

  Catherine handed the bundle back to Marie who put the baby in the cradle that had been brought to the quarters. She turned to Bella. “You’re tired after your ordeal. Rest now. I’ll be right here.”

  The midwife informed the queen that a wet nurse had been located. Marie and the midwife cleaned up and left the queen alone with Bella and the newborn.

  Catherine picked up the baby, and sat cradling him in her arms. She and the baby both slept. A peaceful look graced her face. A short time later she woke up and looked again at the sleeping baby in her arms. When she looked up, Bella was watching her. She smiled, “How are you feeling, my love?”

  “Lighter,” Bella said with a snort.

  Catherine looked down at the baby, then back at Bella. “Your son,” she glowed, “is beautiful.”

  Catherine stood and took the baby over to Bella. She sat on the pallet beside her. “I know you never wanted this day to come, but it has arrived. You must accept the fact that you are the mother to this child…whether or not you wish it so.”

  Bella’s face crumpled into a mask of pain and tears.

  “I am not capable of mothering this child, Catherine,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me.”

  Catherine was afraid for Bella…and the baby. While she believed Bella would learn to love her child, there was a touch of uncertainty. Regardless, it was time for Bella to deal with things. “For all these months I have lived with your fear,” she said, “I know that you believe that this child is of the devil. Listen to me…if this is the devil, then I will be content to live in hell for the rest of my days.”

  Bella’s eyes filled with fear as Catherine leaned toward her. She shook her head. “No, no, Catherine, please. I’m not ready. I cannot do this.”

  Catherine ignored Bella placing the baby in her arms. Bella was forced to accept the bundle. She didn’t take her eyes off of Catherine’s, but when the weight of the baby settled in her arms he made a small noise. Reflexively, she looked down into his face.

  Catherine could not see Bella’s face as she first looked at him, but she saw Bella’s body relax. The fear and anger that she knew Bella had braced for dissipated at first sight.

  Bella looked up at Catherine, her eyes brimming with tears and surprise.

  “How can this be?” she asked.

  “Perhaps that is the definition of a miracle. It cannot be…but it is.” Catherine settled next to Bella, the baby between them. The three of them slept peacefully.

  The baby woke them up with a pitiful little cry. Bella picked him up.

  “I think he’s hungry,” she said instinctively.

  Catherine started up to fetch Marie to call the wet nurse, but Bella asked her to wait. She wanted to see if the baby would feed from her own breast. Catherine helped Bella to untie her dressing gown and lower it to reveal her breast. As Bella brought the baby up he instinctively began to root, looking for his source of nourishment. As he latched onto her nipple and began to suckle, Bella let out a little gasp, “Oh, my, you are a hungry little one!” She looked up at Catherine and smiled, “He is beautiful, I am blessed…for you both.”

  Catherine was filled with joy and relief.

  “What will you name him?” Catherine asked.

  Without hesitation Bella answered, “James. After my father.”

  “James,” repeated Catherine. “It’s a fine name.”

  It was out of the question to ask the bishop to baptize the baby. In an attempt to subtly cast doubts about her, the bishop had taken to ignoring Bella at the communion rail during Mass. Rumors started to spread that he refused her communion because she was a witch. Bella had not attended Mass for several weeks.

  “If he thinks I am a witch,” Bella said over breakfast, “he will certainly not look favorably on my son.”

  Catherine filled a plate with fresh melon for her.

  Bella reached for the plate. “I want that hypocrite nowhere near my baby, especially not in light of what Robert saw!”

  Both of them were determined to protect the child from the lecherous beast.

  “We’ll ask Father Tim to baptize him,” Catherine said. “I’ll ask him to perform the ceremony next week. It’s perfect. He can openly arrive at the castle without arousing any suspicion. He will be here to administer sacraments to you and your child. Since the Bishop unreasonably excluded you from communion he cannot be offended if you must seek your spiritual needs elsewhere.”

  Since Bella hadn’t returned to Church, she was in danger of furthering accusations of heresy against her. Now that she had James’s soul to consider, it seemed an easy task to request that Father Tim arrange to come to the queen’s private quarters to say mass.

  “I look forward to meeting Father Tim. Perhaps when he is finished with his usual Sunday mass in the village he can say mass for us here in your quarters and then dine with us. That would give you time enough to discuss other matters with him.”

  “I’ll send word to him,” said Catherine.

  Father Tim arrived the next Sunday just as Catherine was leaving the bishop’s mass. She was unwilling to forego one mass for another. It seemed imperative to her that she know what the bishop was preaching. It gave her information about him and it kept him careful about what he might be insinuating behind her back.

  As she made her way from the chapel to the castle, Catherine saw Father Tim sitting on a bench talking to some children. The children were laughing.

  She approached. “Father Tim, you will spoil our children with too much fun,” she laughed. The children scattered, still laughing as they ran.

  He rose to greet her. “Your Majesty. It is good to see you.”

  She guided him toward the castle and together they walked.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on Sundays,” she said.

  He looked at her. “It is my pleasure, Your Majesty. But, I have been giving considerable thought to your request. Do you believe it wise for me to come every week? This is the bishop’s territory. In reality, I must defer to his authority. He will not be pleased. I am worried that we risk engendering his wrath further than we have already.”

  They’d reached the main entrance to the castle. A guard opened the doors for them and they stepped inside. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darker atmosphere after being in the full sunlight.

  “Of course,” Catherine said. “I apologize. This is my battle. I did not intend to create difficulty for you,” replied Catherine.

  “I believe we can make an excuse for the Baptism today. His refusal to include Lady Isabella one sacrament is reason for you to believe he would refuse another. But, is he aware I am here today to baptize Lady Isabella’s child?”

  They were climbing the large, stone stairway that led to Catherine’s quarters on third floor.

  “Not as yet, but he will undoubtedly know by the end of the day. It’s his doing that created the need. I will accept his wrath in the mat
ter and present your visit as being at the command of your queen if I hear that he has been angered.”

  “How is your relationship with the bishop, Majesty? Is he still searching for ways to brand you a heretic?” asked Father Timothy.

  “In his zeal to find yet another way to bring me closer to heretical accusations, I am afraid our dear bishop went too far when he refused Lady Isabella communion. We believe he is trying to portray her as a witch.”

  Father Tim stopped and looked at her. “That is a serious accusation. She must be very frightened.”

  “I believe our good Captain has addressed the issue with His Grace in such a way that we need not worry about his zeal for some time,” Catherine smiled, then sobered. They continued walking. “Father, I wonder if you would sit with me before we proceed?”

  They had reached the third floor and were near a bench in an alcove near the queen’s quarters. She sat and indicated her desire for him to do the same.

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” He sat beside her and waited.

  It was some minutes before Catherine spoke again. “In our past dealings regarding victims of this Inquisition, I have been--” she paused searching for words. When she continued, her voice was soft and low, “I have been less than compassionate for certain subjects…whose actions I have perceived as…against the teachings of Christ.” Catherine struggled, not knowing how to express that she had opposed championing those who, like herself and Bella, had been persecuted. Father Tim, his head bowed, listened attentively.

  Catherine continued, “You urged me to be compassionate to all of God’s children. I ignored you. As a result, there were those of my subjects who were tortured and executed. I justified my actions, or inactions, because of what I believed.” As she said this, her heart was breaking, thinking about the way she had simply turned her back on those whose relationships she had thought sinful in the sight of God.

  “You have always acted according to your conscience and with the best of intentions, Majesty,” said Father Tim.

  “I was wrong, Father,” Catherine was shaking. “I have come to believe that I allowed those persecutions because I could not accept my own inclinations. I….”

  Father Timothy held up his hand to stop her, “My dear queen, you need say nothing more.”

  “But, I as much as condemned those innocents as if I were the bishop himself,” she whispered as she looked down. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Majesty, we are, each of us, on our own spiritual journey. With God’s help, we see things when we are ready to open our eyes. Some are never ready, for to see requires action. Many depend upon their blindness in order to survive. You are not one of those. And your new understanding and remorse means that those souls did not die in vain.”

  “The knowledge I now have changes everything.”

  “It is not knowledge that changes us, Catherine,” he waited until she looked up at him, then looked so deeply into her eyes that she was certain he saw into her soul, “it is how we choose to act on that knowledge.”

  “What must I do to be forgiven?” whispered the queen.

  “Ask.”

  “Forgive me,” said Catherine quietly.

  He placed his hand on her head, “In the name of Christ, you are forgiven your sins. Go…and sin no more.”

  She wanted to continue to talk to Father Tim about this, but did not yet feel strong enough to speak of her own struggle. She still felt scared. She still missed feeling God’s love and still feared He did not approve. In spite of Father Tim’s absolution, she didn’t feel absolved. Her heart remained weighed down by her burden.

  Bella was waiting. She thanked Father Tim and together they went into her quarters.

  Father Tim smiled as Bella walked toward him with her hands outstretched. Before Catherine could introduce them Bella said, “You must be Father Timothy. I have heard so much about you. I am Lady Isabella.”

  As Bella finished introducing herself she looked to Catherine. Father Tim blinked and smiled.

  “Lady Isabella, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

  They sat and shared pleasantries. Then the priest said, “Lady Isabella, I understand that our Bishop has excluded you from taking the sacrament of Holy Communion.”

  Bella poured wine for all three of them and handed a cup to Father Tim. She nodded. “Although I understand his motive, I believe he feels he has hurt me by the act. If I thought he was truly a man of God I suppose I would be hurt. But I see his act more as a bad cook denying a meal to an already satisfied patron.”

  Father Tim laughed. “I believe our good Bishop would be appalled to hear you utter such blasphemy.”

  Bella immediately looked horrified. “I am sorry; I tend to speak too freely at times. It was not my intention to…”

  The priest held up his hand, smiling, and reassuring her, “You may speak freely with me, Lady Isabella, I was making light of what is really a serious topic. Your queen and I have long dealt with the tyranny of the bishop. It is not often that I am afforded an opportunity to be in the company of those who share my feeling.”

  Bella smiled and visibly relaxed. “I am at your disposal in the fight against such despicable deeds as those of the bishop. How can I assist you?” She offered him some olives and bread.

  “Bella,” Catherine said, “Father Tim thinks his coming here will endanger his tenuous relationship with the bishop. We need to find another way to meet with him.”

  “Perhaps,” Father Tim offered, “a Sunday afternoon outing to my village, where Lady Isabella can hear mass?”

  “No matter what we do he will see through our guise, but I should be able to convince him that it is in his best interests to allow you to serve us Mass in your own village,” Catherine offered as she sipped her wine. “That will make Robert’s presence necessary, as well.”

  “I will be glad of less skulking about in the forest, Majesty. Although I know our meetings are held with the utmost of secrecy, I always worry that one of us will be followed.”

  The baby’s cry caused all three to turn. James was awake and hungry. Bella excused herself from the sitting area and went into the queen’s bedroom to feed the baby. She returned a short time later and introduced her child to Father Tim.

  He took the baby gently. “He is beautiful,” said the priest. “Shall we baptize him?”

  When the ceremony was complete, Catherine called for a meal. James’ soul was now safe, and he was officially named.

  When they first began their outings to the village, the bishop objected. He made an appointment with Catherine and was in her office. “Your Majesty, it is not right for the queen to seek mass and confession from someone other than her own bishop in her own castle church,” he protested.

  “Your Grace, I accompany Lady Isabella, who has been refused Holy Communion by my bishop. She was so aggrieved by this action that we have been forced to seek her spiritual requirements elsewhere. Did you expect her to stop attending mass or confession?”

  She had him. She was secretly delighted to have angered him and see him have to relent as he said, “You are quite correct, Majesty. Perhaps I was hasty to judge her.”

  “Perhaps,” was all Catherine said.

  In actuality, Catherine knew the bishop was more concerned with the fact that she was now regularly in the company of Father Timothy. She knew the Bishop Capshaw did not trust him, and had long suspected that he was sympathetic to the Reformation.

  “Majesty, I would be happy to accept the Lady Isabella and her son at our own mass. I am willing to apologize to her.”

  Catherine watched him choke on his own words. “That is very gracious of you, but I believe Lady Isabella is quite content with both the Mass and spiritual counsel of Father Tim.”

  “Majesty,” he said as his face turned a bright shade of red and the veins in his temples visibly pulsed, “I would prefer that you both resume taking your spiritual requirements here.”

  “I have not ceased attending mass here, Your Grace, and I
will continue to do so. I also continue in my confessions with you, do I not?”

  “You do, Majesty. Is there a reason you find it necessary to repeat both mass and confession with Father Timothy?” he asked.

  “I am unaware that the Church limits our ability to partake in the sacraments.”

  “It does not, Majesty. But I have reason to believe that your priest may be involved in the Reformation activities that are spreading across Europe. I would not want you to become entangled in something that might put you at risk. Your Father Timothy may already be in a difficult position.”

  So, he was trying to scare her into cutting ties with Father Tim. Catherine directed an icy glare at the Bishop. She was done playing games.

  “Lady Isabella and I enjoy our Sunday outings to the village. I don’t anticipate any change in that routine. As to your suggestion that Father Timothy may be involved in heretical activities, I have no knowledge to that effect…nor do I have any reason to suspect that your information is anything but a desperate attempt to frighten me. I am well aware that your authority over village priests gives you the right to remove and control them.” She stood and leaned over her desk. “If anything alters Father Tim’s status in his village…if any accusations of heresy befall that good man, you will pay the price for your own hypocrisy,” she waited while her words took effect.

  The Bishop’s face was livid with anger. “Majesty,” he said curtly, through gritted teeth. He stood and turned to leave her office.

  “Your Grace,” she called to him. He turned slowly. “You may take your leave.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Catherine and Bella had been visiting Father Tim for some months. Their Sunday afternoon ritual was something to which both women looked forward. It gave them an opportunity for a regular outing with James and time to enjoy the beauty of the kingdom between the castle and Castiglione d’ Orcia, where Father Tim lived and worked. The residents of the village looked forward to their queen’s arrival as well. Her visits brought extra income to the impoverished little village. Queen Catherine traveled with no less than four guards and a servant. After mass they all dined at one of the local taverns. Catherine was sensitive to alternating between the few that existed.