The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  “Robert!” Father Tim greeted him. “It is safe, please come in. Come in. This is my brother, my sibling actually, not another priest.” Father Tim walked over to Robert, Isabella and Catherine.

  “Majesty, my I present my brother, Thomas.”

  Thomas knelt before the queen, “Majesty.”

  “Please rise, Thomas. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Majesty. My brother has told me so much about you.”

  “And this is the Lady Isabella,” continued Timothy.

  “Lady Isabella, I am delighted.” Thomas bowed. “And the concerned looking fellow with the sword must be Robert, Captain of the Queen’s Guard?”

  “I am.” Robert nodded.

  “I assure you, Captain, I have nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for your queen. And I am unarmed.” Thomas smiled engagingly.

  “Thomas just returned from Spain,” Father Tim said. “His travels took him through parts of France and the Kingdom of Sardinia,”

  Catherine wondered if Thomas shared his brother’s views on the Inquisition. Until she had some indication, she listened.

  “I’ve met with many who are disillusioned with the Church. Majesty, know that you are not alone in your fight against injustice. I have seen, and heard, things that chill my blood. I don’t know how my brother continues to wear the robes of a priest in the Catholic Church. When I think of the…”

  “Thomas,” Father Tim interrupted him, “perhaps we can discuss that later. For now, Queen Catherine and Lady Isabella have come to hear Mass.”

  “My apologies, Majesty. As my brother can tell you, my zeal tends to overtake me at times.”

  “Thomas, will you stay for Mass? I am very interested in hearing what you have learned in your travels.”

  “No thank you, Majesty. I don’t share my brother’s spiritual leanings. I will be at the tavern. No offence intended.”

  “None taken, Thomas,” the queen laughed. “Your honesty is refreshing. We will join you after Mass.”

  “I look forward to it, Queen Catherine.” Thomas bowed and retreated.

  Thomas was ordering his second ale as the queen’s party joined him. They sat at a secluded table in the far back of the tavern.

  “Majesty, I know you want to hear about Thomas’ travels,” Father Tim began, “but you need to know that his stories make your experiences in Pienza and Ribolla seem like child’s play.”

  Catherine looked at Bella. “I intend to listen, but don’t expect you to stay.”

  “I am staying.” Bella stated firmly.

  Robert arrived with several bottles of wine. The innkeeper brought a platter of cheeses, breads, oil, olives, fruits and nuts. Goblets were placed around the table and the wine was poured.

  When the servers finished pouring the wine and left, Thomas began. “The majority of my time was spent in Spain, but I met with people from all over Europe. Primarily, it is the Protestants who are the targets of persecution. I’m sure you’ve heard that the King of France has publically declared he intends to exterminate all Protestants from France.”

  “With a cry of ‘turn Papist, or die!’” Catherine shook her head as she put her goblet back on the table.

  “It’s true, Majesty. Those who refuse are put to death. Those not put to death suffer imprisonment, their houses are burned and property stolen. Their wives and daughters, after being ravished, are sent to convents. If they try to escape, they’re pursued through the woods, hunted and shot like wild beasts.”

  He stopped, “Perhaps I am forging ahead too quickly. I apologize, Majesty. It isn’t my intention to startle or offend you.”

  “It’s fine, Thomas. Please continue at your own pace. I will stop you if I need to.”

  Thomas nodded and took a breath. “In all the provinces of France, it is the bishops, priests, friars and the clergy who work to keep up the cruel spirit of the military. An order was published for demolishing all protestant churches.

  “Ferdinand and Isabella laid the groundwork for their unspeakable cruelty well. Since their deaths, their successors have taken their Spanish Inquisition to new levels. Expeditions in new parts of the world are still being funded, so it isn’t just their own people they murder. I have heard Bartolome de Las Casas speak on the horrors he witnessed in Haiti, Cuba and the New World. Natives of those lands are being decimated in droves…as if they were nothing more than soulless beasts.”

  “Who is this de Las Casas?” asked Isabella

  “A Spanish colonist, Lady, and a priest. One of the good ones, although he did not begin as such.” Thomas smiled at his brother as he said this. “Originally he was a supporter and puppet of Ferdinand and Isabella. He traveled with Columbus to some of the lands I mentioned, and was present during the attacks on the native population of Cuba. It was there that he found his conscience rebelling against the slavery and slaughter of the natives. That’s when he became a Dominican priest. He travels back and forth across the Atlantic debating openly for the freedoms of the Indians of those lands. Many of them have been forced into slave labor.”

  “Where is he now?” asked Catherine as she accepted cheese and olives Bella placed on her plate.

  “For the last many years he has been writing and speaking. He has made several court appearances in defense of the Indians.”

  “I am glad to know that someone is out there making a public stand, but I wonder why he is allowed to get away with his public position?” Catherine was intrigued.

  “De Las Casas himself has wondered, Majesty.” Thomas smiled. “If you want my opinion, I think it’s because these new worlds are far enough away to be considered nothing by way of threat. The great Ferdinand and Isabella didn’t consider the natives of other lands to be people. But that is just my opinion.”

  “One that seems based in careful consideration and knowledge.” Isabella offered.

  Thomas nodded to her. “Thank you, Lady Isabella, but I don’t deserve your praise. I may be privy to much information, but it is people like de Las Casas who are fighting for the rights of others who deserve your respect. I am simply a carrier of information. I don’t have the courage to do anything with the information except pass it along to those who might be able to do something.”

  “Nevertheless, Thomas,” Catherine leaned across the table and placed her hand on his forearm, “you must not underestimate the power and importance of the information you provide. And the mere fact that you are willing to travel, supplying this kind of information puts you at risk. It takes a great deal of courage to do what you are doing.”

  “Thank you, Queen Catherine. I am only glad there are people, like you, willing to listen.” Thomas paused to take a long drink of his ale. Then he continued. “And I wish that there were more people like you. I wonder if you know that you are the reason I am here.”

  Father Tim playfully feigned astonishment. “Brother, you mean I am not the sole reason for your visit? I am hurt.”

  Thomas laughed and turned back to the queen. “My brother knows well why I have come, Majesty. You should know that word of your sympathy is spreading beyond your little kingdom. When I heard about you I determined that I must meet you. You can imagine my delight when Tim told me that he was working with you to fight for freedom.”

  “I am afraid that’s an exaggeration,” Catherine said. “There are times that I wish we might openly fight, but that has not been the case. Your brother wisely points out that the earth is filling with the bodies of martyrs right now. His is the voice of reason and caution as we search for new ways to help.”

  “There are times when I wonder if anything will ever help. Especially when I learn of how difficult things are in other places.” Thomas’s face darkened and he lowered his head to hide his tears.

  Timothy placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Majesty,” Tim gave a worried look across the table. “I hesitate for you to hear some of what Thomas has related to me.” Tim paused and didn’t seem willing to proceed. Cat
herine waited. The determined look in her eyes was one that said to the priest, “You know you will tell me…and do not make me ask.” It was a look that all present, with the exception of Thomas, had come to know over the years.

  Tim closed his eyes and dropped his head in surrender. “Bohemia. Things are very bad in Bohemia and Portugal. The Portuguese government ordered all non-Catholic children under the age of fourteen be taken from their parents and retained in the country as fit subjects for Catholic education. You can imagine the distress of the parents. Many of them murdered their own children to defeat the ordinance; many killed themselves as well.”

  No one spoke. What was there to say? The sounds of the tavern continued around them oblivious to the sadness that consumed the table of the queen and her guests.

  Finally, Thomas continued. “No one, however, has suffered more than the Protestants of Bohemia. Racked, burnt, sawn asunder, thrown from rocks, torn by wild horses, cut to pieces, skinned alive, hanged, drowned, stabbed; some were boiled in oil or had boiling lead poured down their throats. Many were crucified with their heads hanging downwards.”

  More silence.

  Then, finally, Catherine asked, “How many?”

  “Some I have spoken to have told me that the country may be nearing a new population count of one million…maybe lower.”

  “That is impossible!” Catherine cried. “Bohemia has three million people!”

  “No longer, Majesty.” Thomas dropped his head into his hands, then picked up his ale tankard and drained it. “In many places they locked up people in churches and forced them to kneel before the Host. If they didn’t kneel willingly their legs were beat with clubs until they fell down; others were gagged, and when they had propped their mouths wide open, the host was thrust down their throats. Many were detained in prisons until they died, and one was kept in a loathsome dungeon so long that his feet rotted off.”

  Thomas looked up to see that Bella had visibly paled. “I am sorry, Lady Isabella. Perhaps I need not be so graphic.”

  Bella took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, Thomas. If this is what is happening, then I must hear it. Everyone should know this, and be sickened by it. Please, don’t try to shield me.”

  Thomas ordered another ale and looked to Catherine, who nodded for him to continue.

  “If anyone tried to avoid the tyranny, to flee to the woods or other private places for shelter, edicts were published forbidding everyone from entertaining them, upon pain of forfeiting great sums of money for every night’s entertainment. Country people were fetched out of their houses, out of their very beds, by hoards of soldiers, who drove them like beasts in the worst of bitter weather. They filled the prisons, towers, cellars, stables…even hog-sties, where they died with hunger, cold, and thirst. Marriage, burial and baptism are forbidden to the Protestants, and if they perform the rituals privately they are imprisoned, or else put to great fines. In some places they are shut up in privies, in the hope that they might be poisoned with the stench.”

  Thomas stopped. Again, the only sounds were those of the tavern, silver on plates, the steady hum of voices around them, laughter.

  “It is incomprehensible to me,” Catherine broke the silence, “that the horrors we have witnessed in our little kingdom can be considered tame by comparison.”

  She ached. Her heart faltered within her.

  “You have presented us with staggering numbers of deaths.” Robert said. “If Bohemia alone has murdered two million, how many more have been eliminated in other areas?”

  “I don’t think we will ever know.” Thomas poured himself another mug of ale.

  “I cannot,” Bella started, shaking her head “comprehend how we have allowed this to happen! “Why are not more people standing up to this abuse?”

  “Some are, Lady,” Thomas said “just not enough of us.”

  When they parted, the queen thanked Thomas, bid him farewell and safe travels. He was leaving in the morning to try to make Venice by weeks’ end.

  Chapter Forty

  The evening ride back to the castle was full of emotion…but devoid of words. Bella sniffed and cried her way back. Robert occasionally filled his lungs, blowing the air out between gritted teeth as his head shook back and forth.

  Catherine was mobilized by her anger, she felt her fire fueled and fanned. Her mind raced with thoughts, both murderous and frightening. She did not understand how God allowed these things to happen. How did these atrocities go on and on? Where the hell was God? Why didn’t He do something? And that was when it struck her like a blow to the chest. God had nothing to do with this. God wasn’t even present. This was not God’s doing. It was a mistake to think that God was going to answer her prayers, or anyone’s. If He hadn’t heard them by now He was deaf. They were on their own to fight or die, or give in to the evils perpetrated by men who called themselves God’s representatives. God had abandoned them.

  That night in her quarters, Catherine was restless. She paced back and forth near the doors leading to the balcony. Bella tried to help her calm, but she would have none of it. The meal sat, mostly untouched, except for the ale which Catherine sipped.

  “Catherine, let me draw you a bath.” Bella offered as she reached her hand out to lay it on Catherine’s arm.

  Catherine shook her off. “I don’t want a bath.”

  “Please, then, sit with me. Let me hold you. I can see today upset you.”

  “I don’t want to be held.” Catherine continued pacing and did not look at Bella.

  “But I do. Catherine, please. Today upset me, too. And now you are worrying me. You think I don’t see that look in your eyes? That I don’t feel the shift in you?”

  She stopped her pacing and glared at Bella. “I am angry…angrier than I have ever been in my life.”

  “So talk to me,” Bella pleaded. “Let’s be angry together! Sometimes you act as if you are the only one who is allowed to respond to the things going on around us!”

  “I am not ready to share what I’m thinking. Just let me be, can you?”

  Catherine threw open the double doors to the balcony and went outside. Then she spun around, went to the table and grabbed the rest of her ale and returned to the balcony. Even there she paced. When she stopped pacing she stood looking up at the stars. Her teeth ground against one another as she went over and over the things that Thomas told them. “If God cannot be counted upon,” she reasoned with herself, “then we have to take care of this on our own.” She was unsure how, exactly, to fight, but the fight built within her as she resumed her pacing. She stopped and pushed against the half wall of the balcony with all of her might, stifling a scream.

  Bella went to the doors. “Catherine, please come inside. It is cold with the doors open.”

  “Then close them and leave me alone,” she barked.

  Bella closed the doors and went to prepare herself for bed.

  A while later Catherine entered the bedroom. “Bella, I am sorry. I know you have feelings about what we heard today. What you seem to forget is that, as queen, I have a responsibility to try to do something about it!”

  Bella was sitting in bed working some needlepoint. She looked up and delivered an icy stare at Catherine.

  Catherine felt the sting of the look. “Please, don’t be like that. I said I was sorry.”

  Bella’s face did not soften. “What you seem to forget is that I am affected by your responsibilities no less than you. When you decide you must act I am forced to act with you, or at least support your action, no matter how I might feel about it. And much of what you do as queen takes little of me into account.”

  Catherine felt her defenses rise up. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are always part of what I think and plan and do. You are included in everything.”

  Bella nearly flew off the bed. “I am not talking of being included, I am talking about being considered!” she shouted with her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing.

  “You are not making any sense.” Cather
ine dismissed her, “You are behaving like a typical…like a….”

  “Like a woman?” Bella finished. “Oh, well here is some news for you, Queen Catherine, I am a woman…and one who supports you in spite of my feelings. Do you think I enjoy following you all over the kingdom and watching you take on the woes of all of Europe? Do you not, for one selfish moment, imagine that I might enjoy a quiet life of reading, riding and watching our children grow without having to worry that your position…your fight…your damned royal title might doom us at any moment?”

  Catherine’s defenses shattered instantly. Her heart crumbled as she understood what Bella was saying. “Bella…I had no…” Catherine started apologetically.

  “I am not finished!” Bella interrupted as she strode around the bed to stand face to face with Catherine. “I am a typical woman because I continue to support you and all that you believe in and strive for regardless of my own fears. I do this because I love you…and I love you because I have no choice. If that makes me ridiculous then…”

  Bella was unable to complete her thought. Catherine could take no more. Remorse flooded her and threatened to drown her. She had to stop Bella; had to stop the words, the anguish of what Bella said. Catherine was crying, pulling Bella close, and kissing her hard. There was everything in her kisses… desperation, fear, anger, outrage. “Stop, Bella, please. Forgive me. Forgive me!” Catherine begged as she covered Bella with kisses. They were kisses that screamed the need for survival, held the last vestiges of hope, and pleaded for life in a world gone mad with murder.

  Catherine pushed Bella against the bed with the intensity of her kisses. Bella found herself responding in spite of and because of her own anger. She turned and pushed Catherine down on the bed tearing at her doublet. Catherine lifted her head but Bella reached up, slid her fingers through Catherine’s hair and pushed it back down onto the bed, all the while her lips, tongue, teeth probing, searching, desperate. Then Bella’s hands were on Catherine’s breasts, her knee pressing hard between Catherine’s legs.