The king was surrounded by his courtiers, men finely dressed in the latest style, and she could smell the perfume that some of them wore from where she stood, mixing oddly with the mustiness of the church itself. Old, mossy stone smelled of mildew, creating a rather pungent ambiance.
She could also see many armed men on the perimeter of the church, big knights with big swords. She couldn’t see their faces because they had their helms on, rather bad manners for being inside a church, but they stayed to the shadows for they were there to watch the king and not participate in the mass. She could also see a few men-at-arms back near the entry door, which had been closed, so they stood just inside the door. And she could see, clearly, that one of those men-at-arms was Maxton.
Somehow, she felt safe and comforted simply to see him there. She knew he would not let anything happen to her, which fed her bravery as well as her resolve. She was well out of sight, back in the shadows. But up near the altar, she could see the Mother Abbess along with Sister Petronilla.
Though it was usual for nuns to worship separately from their male counterparts, during the feast day, they were permitted inside the church with the men. They sat off to the side, at the edge of the sacristy, but they were in full view of the priests and the worshippers. And Andressa could see, very clearly, the pitcher of wine that sat on a table near them.
The pitcher meant for the king.
The order of the service proceeded. The Penitential Rights, Kyrie eleison, the Gloria, and the prayers from the Book of Psalms. The bishop was a loud man with a booming voice and a speech impediment, and his words echoed off the walls and up into the arched ceiling. Andressa could see the priests bringing out the large, silver chalices for Communion, and she knew that now was the time for her to act. Everything had to go smoothly.
The right wine for the right chalice.
It was as if everything in her life had built up to this moment, the time in her life when she would change the course of not only a nation, but of her life as well. No death to the king, but death to the assassins, women who had tortured her for four long years. Maxton and his men had no idea what she had planned, but it didn’t matter. It would all end here and now, and she was brave enough to face it.
Her heart was thumping against her ribs painfully as she watched the priests prepare for Communion, and she moved around the rear of the altar, back in an area called the Ambulatory, where she wouldn’t be seen in order to deliver the poisoned wine to the Mother Abbess and Sisters Agnes and Petronilla.
This one moment…
It was finally here.
“I shall take that from you.”
Someone was grabbing at the pitcher in her hand, startling her as she pulled it away. She found herself looking at one of the priests that the bishop brought with him, the man preparing for Communion.
My God! She thought in a panic. He wants this wine!
“You cannot have this,” she said, sounding frightened, but she quickly stilled herself. “The wine for the king is with the Mother Abbess. See? It is on the table next to her. It is wine straight from the barrel and has not been touched, by anyone. It is pure for the king.”
The priest, a man with shaggy blond hair, looked at her oddly. “What is wrong with this wine?”
He was pointing to the one in her hands and she looked at it, struggling to think of a believable reply.
“The… the sisters like it sweet and heavily mulled,” she said. “The king would hate such a wine. It is meant only for them.”
He eyed her. Then, to her horror, he stuck his finger in it and licked it. Immediately, he made a face. “Awful,” he hissed. “By all means, let them have that abomination. I will get the other pitcher.”
Relief flooded Andressa. She seriously thought she might collapse from it, but she forced herself to continue onward, watching as the priest took the pitcher of the king’s wine from Sister Petronilla.
There was the most wicked expression of satisfaction on Sister Petronilla’s face when she handed the wine to him, and when the woman saw Andressa approaching with a pitcher of what she believed to be unpoisoned wine, she nodded her vague approval at Andressa as if to say our mission is complete. They were close to fulfilling their directive from the Holy Father and the expressions of contentment on their faces was obvious.
Cool, collected… and deadly.
Now, it was time to kill a king.
Unaware that he might have the fate of a king’s life in his hands, the priest preparing the chalices made sure to keep John’s wine separate from the wine for the nuns. Since he’d tasted it, he knew it was awful, so when the communal chalices were prepared, Andressa handed over the wine in her hands and watched the man fill the nun’s cup to the rim.
Then, she couldn’t take her eyes from it.
Terrified she might be invited to take Communion from the poisoned cup, she made sure to hide well back in the shadows, watching everything, but ensuring that no one could see her. The priest moved to the Canon of the Mass and the Eucharist, followed by the Sanctus.
Now, it was time for those present to take Communion and Andressa watched, hardly able to breathe through the force of her anticipation, as the king was the first one to receive Communion. He drank deeply of the chalice, licking his lips of the fine wine, and Andressa couldn’t help but notice that the Mother Abbess, Sister Agnes, and Sister Petronilla were watching him with the expressions of hunters sighting prey. Smug in the knowledge that their task was complete, they waited for the monarch to drop dead.
The king was the only one to drink from that particular chalice, which was emptied and wiped, as was the tradition. It was called the Wiping of the Chalice, in fact. Then, others were called forth to take Communion and they did, through the third pitcher of wine that Andressa had prepared for the masses, untainted and pure. The bishop drank from that cup, and so did William, Christopher, David, Gart, and a host of courtiers that had accompanied the king. Andressa breathed a palpable sigh of relief when that was out of the way. Then, came the Communion for the nuns.
It was the moment she’d been waiting for.
Andressa was back to holding her breath again as the priests gave the full chalice of wine to the bishop, who approached the nuns in the sacristy. The chalices weren’t small; they were fairly large, meant for groups. But in this case, it was only three women who would be partaking. Andressa knew she’d put far more poison in the wine than Sister Petronilla had told her to because she knew that the chalice wouldn’t hold the entire pitcher, nor would they drink the entire pitcher at Communion. Therefore, what they did drink had to be very strong.
She couldn’t risk that they would survive it.
As Andressa watched with great anticipation, something happened that she didn’t foresee – the bishop, who had already taken wine out of the Communion cup meant for the masses, also took several swallows of the spicy wine in the chalice meant for the nuns. Then, he handed it to the Mother Abbess. Given that only four people were to drink from this chalice, the Mother Abbess didn’t want to waste the good wine and she, too, also took several healthy swallows. It was passed to Sister Petronilla, who drank her share, and then Sister Agnes, who drained it. There were even dregs in the bottom that she sopped up.
All of it, gone in an instant.
The bishop took the chalice back and wiped it out, handing it back to the priests who had been helping him. Andressa moved out of the shadows, grasping at the wine pitchers that were sitting near the sacristy, including the poisoned wine. She disappeared back into the Ambulatory and stayed out of sight as the bishop gave the final prayers and blessing, offering more prayers to St. Blitha on behalf of the king before finally dismissing the mass.
With the mass ended, people began to rise from a kneeling position. The strains of soft conversation began to fill the church, but Andressa could only see part of the action in the sanctuary as the bishop came away from the altar to speak with the king.
Knowing the man had ingested the poisoned wine,
Andressa continued to watch him, wondering how quickly the poison would take effect. She’d put so much of it in the wine, but no one seemed to be reacting to it, causing her to wonder if she had done it correctly.
God, what if I was wrong? What if I failed at this and now nothing will be solved, and no one, not even I, will be avenged against these murderous nuns?
What if…?
Suddenly, something happened out in the sanctuary that caught her attention. The Mother Abbess was moving for the door that led out to the cloister, but she wasn’t moving very well. She seemed to be staggering a bit before finally coming to a halt, her hand to her head as if she didn’t feel well.
There was a bit of commotion around the Mother Abbess as she held her head and finally put her hand to her lips. Sister Petronilla was looking to the Mother Abbess in concern, and trying to help her walk, but she, too, seemed to be unbalanced. She went to grab at the nearest solid structure to steady herself, which happened to be a table, and she ended up pulling a very fine cloth off of it and onto the floor.
She went down with it.
Now, people were noticing. Over by the king, the bishop was suddenly unsteady on his feet and as he pitched to his knees, the king’s personal guard rushed forward to take the monarch away, far away from whatever delirium was happening. They had no idea what was going on, only that the king shouldn’t be anywhere near it, so John hustled out of the church to the cries of “curse” and “the Devil’s work”. The last anyone saw of him, Alexander and Sean, in full personal guard regalia, were dragging him out by the arms.
The shouts were echoing everywhere.
Save the king!
As John was whisked way, some men remained in the church; Andressa could see them from her position back in the Ambulatory. She could see William, Christopher, David, Gart, and a few others, watching the bishop fall to the ground with the inability to breathe. His body was also shaking uncontrollably. Up near the altar, all three nuns were down, with the Mother Abbess on her knees as Sister Agnes lay on her back a few feet away, gasping for air.
If Andressa had wondered if she had, indeed, succeeded in her task, the evidence of her success was now before her. Oddly enough, she felt very calm as she watched the scene unfold. She was still holding on to the king’s pitcher and the nun’s pitcher with her good hand, and with the nun’s pitcher being less than half-full, she didn’t want anyone else ingesting the poisoned wine. It had accomplished its task. Pouring the poisoned wine into the dirt of the Ambulatory, she headed out into the sanctuary.
William and Christopher were standing over the bishop as the man writhed on the ground, while a few terrified nuns who had entered the church when they heard the shouting now stood over the Mother Abbess and the two writhing sisters. Andressa walked into the light, watching the women as they lay dying, feeling nothing more than a sense of closure. For all of the evil and pain they inflicted, and for the men and women they’d so gleefully killed, it was retribution.
It was justice.
“Andressa?”
She heard her name, turning to see Maxton approaching her from across the sanctuary. He had his men with him, following him, and they were all looking around with great confusion at what was happening. When Andressa saw him, tears came to her eyes and a smile to her lips.
Her salvation had arrived.
“Andressa?” Maxton said again, hesitantly, as he came near her, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her arm. “What has happened, love? Did you have a hand in this?”
She sighed faintly, her gaze turning to the Mother Abbess and the two sisters on their backs, now surrounded by a few nuns that were trying to help them. Not strangely, they weren’t trying very hard. They were mostly looking at them. She shook her head, knowing any help for the nuns was futile.
“I gave them the poisoned wine meant for the king,” she said simply.
Maxton’s jaw popped open in shock as he looked to the writhing bodies on the ground. “You did this?” he gasped. “You poisoned them?”
She nodded. “They wanted me to kill the king,” she said. “I would not do it. I switched the wine so they were the ones to drink the poison. It is their own wickedness that brought this upon them. Years of pain and torture, years of men and women who could not fight for themselves… yesterday, I fought back when they tried to beat me, and these are the results.”
She lifted her bandaged hand and, in that instant, Maxton understood what had happened. He looked at her in utter astonishment.
“Revenge,” he muttered. “You did this for revenge.”
She shook her head slowly. “Nay, Maxton. Justice.”
“And the bishop?”
“He happened to drink wine that was not meant for him.”
A glimmer came to Maxton’s eyes as he realized what, exactly, she had done, and why. But in truth, he was beside himself with the realization. He simply couldn’t believe it. All of the planning that he and his men had done, and the situation had been resolved by one small woman. Reaching out, he cupped her pale and injured face between his two enormous hands.
“And I had grand ideas of saving you from this place,” he murmured. “It seems that you did not need saving. What you did… I cannot imagine a woman so brave, Andie. Not only did you save yourself, but you saved the king and accomplished what a dozen seasoned knights could not have done so easily. Utterly remarkable, my lady.”
Her tears spilled over then, deeply touched by his words. The sweetness of his touch made her feel as she’d never felt in her life – comforted, appreciated, and adored.
Aye… adored.
“It occurred to me that taking this upon myself might somehow diminish your opinion of me,” she said. “But after yesterday… after they had beaten me… I knew what I had to do. You could not have punished them the way I did. Knights punishing women of the cloth would somehow sully you with the church, no matter how righteous your cause. But this way… there is no damage to you or your men. It is over now, Maxton. Rightness for one and for all.”
He caressed her face gently. “Did they beat you because of Douglas’ death? It did not occur to me until after we left his body at St. Blitha that they might punish you for it. Is that what happened?”
She didn’t want to make him feel badly about protecting her, because it had been the right and noble thing to do, so she simply shrugged. “They knew that the plan for the king’s assassination had been divulged to the king’s men,” she said. “They were certain I was the culprit, but I did not confess to it. Another nun tried to beat me for it, but I fought her and injured her. In fact, Sister Dymphna is in her bed, unable to move. She is part of this plot, Maxton, and should be punished.”
“I will send men to arrest her.”
“It would be a good idea to…”
“Andressa!”
A howling cry echoed off the sanctuary walls, cutting her off, and both Andressa and Maxton turned to see the Mother Abbess, now propped up against the altar, her finger pointing in Andressa’s direction.
Knowing she’d been summoned, Andressa approached the woman with Maxton at her side, noting that the poison was making the Mother Abbess’ limbs convulse uncontrollably. Her breathing was coming in shallow, uneven gasps and when she spoke, her lips and tongue were completely dry.
“The wine,” she breathed. “You confused the wine!”
Andressa looked down at the woman, feeling absolutely nothing by way of pity as she watched the Mother Abbess struggle. She didn’t even feel satisfaction. At most, she felt a sense of finality, as if the horror of her life was finally ending.
Bending over the woman, she spoke softly.
“I did not confuse the wine,” she said. “I gave you the wine you intended for the king. Now, he shall live and you shall die. If you are afraid to die, you should be. All of those women you murdered in The Chaos, and the others you have managed to murder all these years, shall be waiting for you when you face God’s good judgement. You have much to atone for, Gra
cious Mother.”
The woman was looking at her with something equating to stark fear. “You… you did this,” she said, her words slurred. “How… how could you do this to me?”
Andressa thought it was a ludicrous question, one she resisted snapping at. Glancing at the pitchers still in her hand, she carefully set them down next to the dying woman, including the one that had contained the poisoned wine. When she spoke, it was for the Mother Abbess’ ears only.
“Remember what you told me,” she whispered. “Death comes from the most unexpected sources. All those men and women you killed never suspected you… and you never suspected me. I hope you suffer as deeply as you deserve, Gracious Mother.”
They were the most satisfying words Andressa had ever uttered. With them, all ties and all memories with St. Blitha were cut in an instant. Standing up, she turned her back on the woman completely. She could hear moaning and weeping behind her as she faced Maxton.
“If you still wish to marry me, I am ready to go with you,” she said. “I realize that my actions today are most shocking, so I would understand if you would like to reconsider.”
Maxton was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as joy. Pure, prideful joy. A woman so strong, a crusader for what was true and right in the world, took the greatest risk of all in seeking justice for herself as well as others. The evil of Seaxburga needed to be stopped, and she put herself in danger to do just that.
“I am the most fortunate man in the world to have such a woman,” he said softly, reaching out to take her good hand. “Come along, love. You’ve known a life of hopelessness… let me show you what it is like to truly live.”
She smiled, his words filling her as deeply as the oceans filling the earth. It was deep and vast, simply waiting for her to discover it all. That kind of joy was so out of place among dying women, and a dying bishop, but Andressa wasn’t looking at that any longer. She was looking at the future, as bright and magnificent as she could have ever hoped for. As he held her hand tightly, she fell against him, affectionately, knowing that for the rest of her life, she was destined to be by this man’s side, for better or for worse.
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