The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  Catherine had both hands on her sword, her throat issuing grunts and cries as she swung at him. She was on the defensive, warding off his attacks and deflecting his lunges. She knew she was doomed if she was forced against the rocks. She needed to move to his side to maneuver herself back out into the open. The rocks were right behind her. As she engaged his blade from underneath and twisted upward with all her might she managed a turn than brought her to the side of the rock so that he was next to the huge boulder, but easily beginning to push her again.

  A sickening thud dropped him to his knees. His head split down the center. Catherine stared at his body lying on the ground before her, his brains spilling out of his skull. The surprise of his end took a moment to register.

  Catherine looked up. Bella stood on top of the huge boulder. She had lifted as large a rock as she could and dropped it on his head.

  Catherine stared at her in awe, then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, my love!” she shouted up at her. Then she turned and made for the field where her soldiers battled.

  “Catherine, no, please,” Bella begged. But Catherine was already too far away to hear her.

  Several men on both sides were already felled. She counted only six of her own soldiers, Robert one of them, still fighting. There were eight of the others. “We could win this.” She thought.

  Knowing her best strategy was surprise, she held back until she saw an opportunity to strike at the back of one of two men who had engaged one of her guard. Her man was fighting well, and holding his own, but she wanted this fight finished sooner rather than later. When both of the enemies were positioned so that their backs were to her, she moved swiftly forward and slashed at hamstrings of one of the men. He collapsed instantly. Then she impaled the other man from the back through his heart.

  Now the battle was more even.

  Robert saw her out of the corner of his eye. “Majesty, back to the rocks!” he shouted.

  “Robert, watch--!” she yelled back. But in the split second of his distraction to order her out of danger, his opponent took his opportunity and put his blade through Robert’s neck.

  “Nooooo!” Catherine was on the enemy in a flash. Her horror, her anguish, her fear and rage gave her strength she did not know she possessed. Against all practical swordsmanship, she grasped the grip of her sword with both hands, raised it over her head and with a deep, powerful yell smashed the blade down on the man who stabbed Robert, splitting his head in two. All of the other men were engaged with each other. Catherine turned to find Robert looking up at her. She dropped down next to him and lifted his head onto her lap. He was still alive, but the life was ebbing quickly out of him.

  “Robert, cousin,’ she cried, “please don’t leave me.” She rocked his head and cried out to God. “Please, please let him live.” Her heart tore in two, the pain as excruciating as if she had been run through by a sword.

  Catherine bent low, cradling his head next to hers. “My Queen, I am sorry. I have failed you,” he whispered.

  “You have done no such thing!” she said as her tears splashed upon his face. “I beg you, cousin, hold on.”

  “I am lost…” his face held a multitude of pains, “be safe…tell my wife…my Gio…I love them…”

  “They will know,” she sobbed, “and all of Montalcino will know that you died protecting your queen.

  Robert fisted his right hand. With his last ounce of strength he drew his fist up over his chest where it stopped and fell over his heart.

  Bella was making her way to them when Robert died. When she was nearly to them she saw the man that Catherine lamed crawling on his belly, pulling himself on his elbows, to where Catherine was holding Robert.

  “Catherine!” she called out. “Catherine….” But as Catherine looked up at Bella, her face streaming with tears, the lamed man used all of his strength to thrust his sword up and into Catherine’s back. Robert’s head fell from her arms. She looked up at Bella running toward them.

  “For Christ, you heretic!” cried the man who plunged his sword into her.

  Catherine still not believing that Robert lay dead in her arms did not, at first, realize what happened. Then the pain shot threw her. She looked down at the point of the sword sticking out of her chest. It was covered in blood; her blood. With horror she looked back up at Bella and her thoughts were only of the woman she loved more than life itself. She had not intended to die.

  Bella was running toward her, her face a mask of fear, agony and rage. “Nooooo!” Her scream pierced the air, but Catherine didn’t hear it. The only sound she heard was a deafening silence. Gone were the sounds of metal on metal, the swords clashing and the grunting of the battle.

  She watched Bella, almost as if in slow motion, running toward her, her mouth open wide, her face fierce.

  As Bella rushed toward her, she momentarily wanted to order her back to the safety of the rocks, but all she could do was watch as Bella neared the battleground.

  That was when she realized that all of the pain had left her body. She felt an overwhelming sense of peace. It filled her and she was no longer afraid.

  She closed her eyes, and as she did her mind filled with her life’s loveliest visions. She was a child on horseback, racing through the flower fields with Robert, laughing, her hair flying behind her. She saw James’s newborn face looking up at her from her own arms, and felt the rush of love for him. Sofia’s little arms wrapped around her neck as she heard her daughter whisper, “Te amo, mama,” for the very first time. She was transported to the cave behind the waterfall at Ribolla, resting back against Bella, hearing and feeling the water splash all around her. Then, she was in the flower fields again, kissing Bella for the very first time. As she gave herself, again, to that kiss, she found herself sitting in the chapel at Montalcino, her parents on either side of her. They smiled and wrapped her in their protective and loving arms, and that was when she was consumed, surrounded, filled with a force of Love so powerful that she knew all was well.

  There were still four men fighting. Robert’s soldiers, realizing what had happened increased the ferocity of their battle.

  Bella reached them and picked up Robert’s sword. She stood over the man who had run Catherine through. He looked up into her eyes. The smug look he held quickly vanished when he saw her face. No man could see her expression and not feel his blood run cold.

  Bella hoisted Robert’s sword with both hands, the point aimed at the man’s neck. She plunged it with such force into his neck that she nearly severed his head. She left the sword standing upright and went to Catherine. Her stomach clenched when she saw where the sword protruded from Catherine’s body. She fell to her knees.

  Catherine had collapsed onto Robert. She was still breathing, still alive, but barely. Bella positioned her on her side with her head supported in her lap.

  “Don’t you dare…” she sobbed, “don’t you dare die!”

  “Bella…my love…” Catherine managed weakly. “Can you,” she struggled for breath, “forgive me?”

  “What am I to do without you?” Bella wept. She held her forehead to Catherine’s as if she could will the life back into her. “No, no, no…please,” Bella pleaded as she held her love’s head, cradling it gently.

  “Bella…” Catherine whispered as she looked into Bella’s eyes. Blood and breath seeped from her body onto Bella. “I…am…sorry,” she managed with great effort.

  Bella moaned and rocked as she buried her face in Catherine’s neck. As she felt the life ebbing out of Catherine she began to shake violently.

  It was then she heard the horses. She looked up to see Sofia and her army riding into the field. The fighting was over. Two of Robert’s soldiers were still standing.

  Sofia saw her mother lying on the ground and ran her horse close to them, leaping off before the horse was stopped. She ran to her mother.

  “No! God, no!” she cried. “Mother, no, oh God,” she wept as she bent and covered her mother’s face with tea
rs and kisses.

  “Sofia…” Catherine could barely breathe and her speech came at great cost. Catherine tried to reach her hand up to her daughter’s face, but lacked the strength. Sofia grasped her mother’s hand and pressed it to her heart.

  “I have been a fool,” she sobbed, “I am so sorry.”

  Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “Don’t,” was all she managed. Then she turned back to look one last time into the face of her beloved. She placed her daughter’s hand into Bella’s and held her own there momentarily. Blood gurgled from Catherine’s throat and spilled out over her lips. Though her eyes never closed, and never stopped looking at Bella, she was gone. Her hand slipped from both of theirs.

  As the small army made its way back through the Borgo to the castle, villagers saw their queen lying dead and followed the procession. By the time the troop entered the outer wall near the guard house, some two hundred townspeople brought up the rear crying and lamenting the death of their queen.

  The bodies of Robert and his dead companions were draped over their horses, arms swinging to the slow, steady clomp of each hoof. Remy, tears streaming from his eyes, held the reins of Robert’s horse at the head of the procession. Other soldiers, each leading a horse with a dead man followed slowly. Behind them came Sofia, her face unreadable. Then came the wagon that had left just that morning with the coffin of James. The coffin was still in the wagon. Bella sat in the back leaning against her son’s coffin. In her lap she cradled the body of the queen. Bella’s face was stained with blood, dirt...and the tracks of her tears. The rest of the army followed, surrounded by the townspeople.

  As they made their way through the second wall, the castle residents were filling the courtyard. King Ambrose and Lord Giovanni waited on the steps.

  Apart from the occasional sound of a snorting horse, no one spoke until Sofia said, “Take the Queen’s body to her quarters.”

  “Yes, Majesty,” answered one of the soldiers.

  Bella reluctantly gave up Catherine’s body to the soldiers who carried it to her quarters on a litter draped in the colors of Montalcino. Once the weight of Catherine’s body was lifted from her Bella, sat leaning against her son’s coffin. She was cold. So cold.

  For the second time in her life, she was utterly alone. She realized no one was going to assist her down from the wagon, so she stood and climbed over the side. When her feet touched the ground, and she let go of the side of the wagon, her hand brushed against the dagger still in her belt. As she walked into the castle, her hand grasped the hilt and she was comforted by the thought of having it.

  Sofia stayed astride her horse until the bodies of all of the dead were gone from the courtyard. Lord Giovanni made his way haltingly to Robert’s horse. He reached for Robert’s swinging hand, grasping it as he walked, not holding back his tears. Sofia found herself wanting his gentle reassurance, but he would not meet her gaze.

  After what seemed like an eternity, only Sofia remained. A stable boy came to take the reins of her horse. King Ambrose went to his daughter and held out his hand to help her dismount. She looked into his eyes and saw his love, in spite of everything, and fell to weeping in his arms. He walked her inside, his arm protectively around her.

  The bishop was peeking out of a window in the Chapel when Sofia returned with the army. He knew that Sofia had raced off with the army to intercept the funeral party. He also knew that whether or not the Princess found her mother in time, it did not bode well for him. But, he did not expect this. When he saw Lady Isabella in the back of the wagon, the queen dead in her arms, his legs began to shake. Bile rose in the back of his throat. He sneaked out of the side entrance of the church and made his way to his private quarters.

  Thomas Capshaw slipped into his quarters unnoticed by anyone and went to his bedroom. He could barely stand, his entire body shook with the knowledge that he was doomed. He went to the window and looked out on the courtyard. He did not cry. He did not pray. He went to fetch a bottle of wine and returned to his bedroom.

  He pulled a wooden box out of the little chest next to his bed, opened it and slipped a small vial out of a velvet bag. He poured the contents of the vial into his cup of wine and downed it in a few swallows, then poured himself another cup. He climbed onto his bed and sipped at his wine.

  When the soldiers arrived to arrest him under orders from Queen Sofia he was dead.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Father Timothy came to conduct the funeral Mass for both Robert and the Queen. Bella insisted that Catherine and Robert be honored together.

  The night before the Mass, Sofia and Bella sat in the chapel. The light of the moon filtered through the stained glass window, painting Catherine’s coffin with a soft blanket of muted color. Robert’s coffin stood guard beside hers, vigilant even in death.

  Father Tim found the women when he went to the Chapel around one in the morning. Unable to sleep, he decided to spend one last night with his Queen and her Captain.

  Bella sat. Sofia knelt. They were on opposite sides of the Chapel. When the doors to the Chapel clanked, Sofia turned. She went to meet Father Tim as he made his way up the center aisle.

  “Queen Sofia,” he smiled gently, “you must be tired. I’ll stay. Go and rest.”

  Sofia looked at him only briefly before her shame and sorrow brought her to her knees. She cried out. Bella turned in time to see Father Tim catch her.

  “I cannot live with what I have done!” she wept. “I cannot live…”

  Father Tim knelt and enfolded her in his arms, holding her body as it heaved with sobs, his own tears blurring the flames of the candlelight surrounding them.

  When her weeping subsided, he held her face between his hands and said, “You are so like her.”

  “How can you say such a thing after what I have done…what I have caused?” Sofia cried.

  “Because, my child, it is true.” He smiled at her and looked over at Bella. She looked on from her seat in the front pew, but made no move to join them.

  “Your mother,” he continued, “saw how fiercely you defended your faith and your Bishop.” He helped Sofia to her feet and led her up to where Bella sat. Bella and Sofia had not spoken, except in need, since they had returned from the battlefield.

  “Catherine was just as fierce in her convictions,” he said. “And, like you, she was just as pained and full of sorrow when she discovered that her beliefs inflicted pain, sorrow, and even death.”

  Sofia looked at him with considerable confusion. She was unaccustomed to thinking about her mother as anything but a recalcitrant heretic. The new feelings and information she continued to absorb about her mother in the past few days relentlessly wounded her with regret for the woman she never allowed herself to know.

  “As Queen, your mother continually dealt with conflicting information and emotions.” He went to grab the small, ornate, chair behind the pulpit. He brought it down to place before Sofia and Bella, so that he could sit facing them both.

  “Your grief, and your remorse, will always be with you.” He reached to take Sofia’s hands in his. “I am afraid that is now a fact of your life.” He paused and inhaled deeply before continuing. “I remember once, years ago, having a similar conversation with your mother.” He closed his eyes as if remembering. When he opened them he looked at Sofia so tenderly that she felt the threat of a new wave of grief. “I told her, as I tell you now, it is not the knowledge of what we have done, but rather, what we do with that knowledge that makes us who we are…that transforms us.”

  He let the echo of the last words fade before he went on. “How will you, as queen, use what happened to guide you as you rule your kingdom? How will both of you,” he reached to take Bella’s hand in one of his, “find a way to help one another, heal one another…forgive?”

  Bella didn’t look up while he was talking, but finally raised her head to reveal the anger in her eyes. It threatened to consume the Chapel. He held her gaze, lovingly, tenderly, until slowly the sharp
edges of her fury began to soften, to drift and float outward mingling with the glow of soft light surrounding them.

  For the second time in as many days Sofia and Bella felt their hands joined together by someone who loved them both, unconditionally. Sofia looked at Father Tim, then slowly turned to look at Bella and with her tears streaming down her cheeks said, “I do not deserve your forgiveness.” She fell on her knees before Bella, grabbing her hands, “But, I beg you for it,” she wailed. “I beg you!” Sofia buried her face in Bella’s lap releasing, fresh torrent of unrestrained grief.

  Bella looked once more into the eyes of Father Tim, then down at the weeping body of Catherine’s daughter, her daughter. Ever so slowly, her face softened, and she placed her hands on either side of Sofia’s head and fell beside her, allowing her sorrow to split the seams of her soul.

  Father Tim held a small, private service for James. He was buried in the family cemetery just outside the walls of the castle. It was where Catherine had wanted him buried all along.

  The local boy’s choir sang at the Funeral Mass for Catherine and Robert. Originally, a full scale Requiem Mass was planned, but everyone agreed the requiem music originally selected, did not really reflect the spirits of Catherine and Robert. Catherine always commented on the boy choir when she heard them on special occasions, so they seemed the perfect choice.

  Ambrose stayed next to Sofia during the Mass. At times, her shoulders slumped and it looked as though she might collapse. Ambrose held his arm around her waist, supporting her throughout the service.

  Bella was next to Sofia. Occasionally, Sofia slipped her arm through Bella’s. A few times, when the voices of the choir filled the chapel with sounds so sweet and tender, they could not hold back their tears, Sofia reached her arm around Bella and they rested their heads together, weeping and clinging to one another.