This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  The litter was set down, Katherine blindfolded, then taken into an ill-smelling corridor which was wet and drafty, up several steps, across a wide floor, then down endless flights of stairs, until finally she was guided in to a stone seat which was so cold that it permeated her wet clothes with chill. She began to shiver even as the knife which had been held at her side was removed and the blindfold flicked aside.

  Katherine blinked as the blaze of a torch came directly into her eyes. The flame was all that she could see for a moment, then as her vision cleared she looked into the triumphant face of Alexis Rykos. Suddenly, with her typical foolhardy bravery, Katherine forgot her danger, the air of evil that hung about Rykos, and the sure knowledge that he had had her watched for months.

  “How dare you take me in this manner? My husband will kill you for this. Release me at once and no more will be said, though by the faith you surely deserve punishment for this harassment!”

  Rykos looked into her clear green eyes, saw the softness of her arms where the sleeve was ripped, noted the pulses pounding in her throat and at her temples. His senses swam and his watchful restraint left him. He bent and caught her face between his hands, then set his lips on hers as his tongue thrust hard between her teeth.

  Katherine bit down as hard as she could even as her hands slapped at his neck and shoulders. He jerked back, spitting blood from his wounded mouth. Before she could move, he put both hands around her neck and squeezed until she felt the blood leaving her veins and her breath congealing in her lungs. Numbly she felt him lift her to a padded seat and stretch out her limbs. Then he moved away from her and she dared to open her eyes. The room was huge with a great fire burning in one corner. Water dripped down the stone walls and there was the odor of incense mingled with that of human occupation and lack of fresh air. A tapestry hung on an altar near which a gutter ran. The tapestry was worked with the symbol of the bent cross which she had seen before in one of the messages she had received. Black and red robes hung on a hook nearby.

  Katherine sat up a little and put a hand to her throbbing throat on which she could feel the welts rising. Rykos came close to her then, proffering an ornate goblet. He was smiling with his lips only.

  “You will learn not to provoke me, Katherine. Drink the wine now. It will relax you for it is a rare vintage and well worthy of you.”

  She took it from him without a word, looked into the self-satisfied face with its cut lip, drew back her arm and hurled the contents of the goblet into that face. Then she began to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “What do you want of me, Alexis Rykos? Why have you gone to such lengths to secure me, a married woman, no longer the virgin you sought to win by force? Leave me be!” Her last words tore her battered throat.

  He forced himself not to touch her for he knew that if he did so he would kill her and it was not yet time for that. Not quite. The skin pulled tautly across his face and his eyes were shiny pebbles. His voice rose flat and still in the dungeon-like room. As she listened, Katherine grew more afraid than she had ever been in her life. He did not lift a hand to wipe the wine from him and it dripped onto the floor.

  “You were to be the most fortunate of women, chosen by me for the highest of fates. I would have nurtured you carefully, taught you all that was needful. But you chose to rebel, you, the chosen vessel. You shall pay in pain and tears for that you have desecrated!” His voice rose and he paced about her, his black robes swinging.

  Katherine knew then what she had always instinctively known. He was mad. Cautiously she said, “What has been desecrated? Is the fact that I did not choose to marry you such an enormity of evil?”

  He laughed. “Your weak will is as nothing. Soon enough you will understand. Sacrilege exacts its own penalty. Bind her!”

  His control was leaving him. The same two men who had brought Katherine to this place now advanced on her. She fought with teeth and fingernails, kicking and screaming, but it was useless. She was bound with leather straps and gagged with cloth thrust between her teeth and another length to hold it securely. She shrank back from the eager exploring hands on her bosom as Alexis waved at them to be gone.

  He was now totally in the grip of his passion, his hands were sweating and his breath came in gasps. He drew a small dagger from his belt, opened Katherine’s bodice with a long ripping movement and took the firm white breast in his hand. With one long nailed finger he taunted her pink nipple. She writhed back and forth as he began to bring her breast to his mouth. Now she was in a panic. Part of her mind told her quite calmly that it was hopeless, yet another told her she must fight as best she could until he killed her. For she had no doubt that he meant to do just that. It was in his cruel black eyes, his savage hands that hurt her.

  He lifted his head to watch her, then said, “Ah, no, Katherine, it will be slow, very slow. Beginning this way . . .” He thrust the point of the dagger under the nipple and held it there. He could kill her in a second. Katherine wrenched back only to have him press the blade back.

  “Next I will press hard.” He left the dagger where it was and put his mouth down, sucking up a single drop of blood that now trickled down.

  Katherine knew that she would not faint, she would have to endure this until he tortured her slowly to death. She began to cry with pain and knowledge of her own folly. The gag was choking her, the straps had stopped all blood in arms and legs. Alexis watched eagerly, his face twisted and ugly with emotion. He took up the dagger again and began to mutter to himself. Katherine saw his eyes and steeled herself once more against the pain and humiliation.

  There was a cry from the stairs. It came from a shrouded figure on the stairs. A masked guard in black stood behind.

  “Stop that, you fool. Stop this instant!”

  Rykos stared for a moment, then sobering, he pulled the dagger from her breast and thrust it into his belt. Sobbing, Katherine rolled to one side and lay shivering on the icy stone floor. Alexis turned toward the figure, muffled in draperies, which advanced into the room and crossed it to stretch out gloved fingers to the fire.

  The figure spoke now in Latin. “It is not the time for such as this. I do not begrudge you your pleasures, foul though they are, but time is short. We must proceed to the work. It will soon be March and time is running out. Is it for this that we work for the cause?” It was the voice of a woman, soft yet resonant with rage.

  Alexis stared, then staggered over to the wine jug and drank deeply before tossing a cloak over his sweating torso.

  “Hear me, Alexis Rykos, if we fail because of you, then it will be you who dies the death. You who walk alone in the afterlife.” She waved negligently at the prone girl. “Leave the wench, return her to the stews for whence she came. I cannot understand why you bother with such carrion.”

  Katherine saw the calculating gleam come into Alexis’s eyes as he bent his head, seeming to consider. It was too long for the veiled figure and she swung angrily to face him. As she did so, the swift motion raised the floating material and, before it fell to cover her face once more, Katherine looked on the beautiful, disdainful features of Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of England.

  Chapter 23

  In the Matter of Belief

  When Alexis spoke again his voice was flat but his hands shook. “I have not forgotten that for which we work, be well assured of that.”

  The cold voice of authority said, “I do not debate. I command as does He. All your will and concentration are needed. Swear!”

  Katherine twisted deeper into the mantle that had fallen on the floor. Her hair fell over her face but her bared breast still showed. The veiled figure was standing in front of the fire now, her shadow seemed to grow larger against the walls. The girl was shaking again. If Elizabeth Woodville knew who she was, she would give her up to death without a qualm. Perhaps she would anyway.

  Rykos was saying, “I swear. But there is great danger if all is not performed properly.”

  “There is greater danger in delay. I will not b
andy words with you. Obey me!”

  He bent his head and there was silence in the great room. Elizabeth Woodville motioned to the guard who came to cut Katherine’s bonds. She could not move for a few seconds so he pulled the cloth from her mouth. In a slow movement she pulled the mantle over her cut breast and tried to rise while hiding her face in her hair.

  The Queen spoke to her in English, “Here, take this gold piece, it is more than the likes of you will see in many of month. Speak of this to no one, do you understand? The gentleman will not need you again.”

  Katherine hunched low as she wrapped both arms around her shoulders to still the shaking. She dared not hope as yet for freedom.

  Rykos stared fixedly at her but did not dare voice her identity or his own desires. The Queen was watching him and so did not heed Katherine’s terrible urgency. Then the silent guard pushed at the girl’s shoulder and indicated the door. She followed him out of the chamber, away from the malevolence of Rykos and the incurious woman to whom she was a nothing. The door gave onto a long corridor which in turn gave out into the dark street where rain still fell. The guard made scattering movements with his hands and Katherine saw that he was mute either by nature or by rendering. She suspected the latter. Ducking her head, she stumbled past him into the fresh air.

  Then Katherine ran with all her might, heedless of anything but the terror that consumed her and oblivious to weather, passersby, or thieves. Few were out in that dark and cold night, thus her flight was unimpeded. She ran until the breath left her lungs and she could only gasp, rested for a second and ran on. The blood seeped from her but she felt nothing. Finally exhaustion took its toll and she was forced to slow down. She had entered a section that she knew and then, spying a small church, made her hesitant way inside.

  It was almost warm there by contrast with outside and rushes had been freshly laid. This church was poor and no wealth of stained glass touched its windows but the altar gleamed white in the shadows and the compassionate Christ mourned from his cross over it. Sanctuary, the right of the criminal and the hunted. “I will claim it if I must,” said Katherine out loud. There was no sound or movement from anywhere as she sat down on one of the crude benches and gave herself up to a passion of thanks for her rescue. For the moment it was enough that she still lived, the pain in her breast was as nothing compared to what she might have endured. Bodily safety was enough. As her breathing slowed, the full horror of what she had been through came over her and her senses reeled. Her tired mind played the scene over and over again but the single most terrifying fact of all was that the Queen plotted with Rykos in some deep scheme, knowledge of which could mean Katherine’s death.

  She must have dozed for it was soon faintly light. She stole cautiously from the church, and vowed to send a purse of gold to the priest in gratitude. The rain still fell and it was bitterly cold but no one paid any attention to her as she strode along purposefully in her bedraggled state. Just when she could walk no more, a carter paused beside her to ask directions to the house of a well-known merchant and she rode with him to show him. When he took leave of her it was but a short walk to the house. She would tell everything to James, surely he would know what to do. It would be a relief to let the story go, to cry if need be and cleanse herself of it all. She was so tired that she could not think coherently as it was.

  An ominous stillness hung over the house and there were no servants as she came boldly up to the front door, entered without challenge and stood in the stripped room, for the house was to be completely closed in view of the King’s orders. She stood now, looking about, and it was thus James found her.

  He leaned against the wall, a cup of wine in his hand despite the early hour. Tall and elegant in riding clothes of black, hawk face closed in lines of anger, gray eyes bitter, he surveyed Katherine, taking in every detail of her appearance from the bloodied bosom, to the boy’s garb, dirty face, tousled hair and bruised neck.

  “You look the very slut, returning home after a busy night.” His tone was lazy, conversational. He held out the jug after pouring some of the contents into his own cup. “Wine?”

  Katherine might have heeded the veiled warning in his voice if she had been less exhausted for his pose was that of the predator waiting for its prey. As it was, she came close to him, put out a shaking hand to touch his and spoke swiftly. “You would not believe all that has happened, James!”

  “Would I not? Have I not spent many a night in the stews of London? It surprises me that you have discovered them so quickly, however.”

  Katherine did hot at first take in the full import of his words. She said, “I know that I should not have gone out alone the way I did, but it was all so awful! I despaired...”

  He recoiled from her as she stared wide-eyed at him. “You are quite correct. I will not believe what you say nor do I wish to burden myself with listening to lies at this hour. Go and bathe, you reek.” The dark brows, so strange in contrast to his wheaten hair, drew together as he sipped at the wine.

  She gaped. “You do not believe me?”

  “Has your night of whoring quite ruined your hearing? I believe I heard myself say that only minutes ago."

  She had lain with this man, lost his child, nursed him in his bitter illness and knew the depths of the pain that scarred him, but she did not know him nor the depths of his cruelty until this moment.

  “How dare you? What manner of man are you to speak to me thus? I have almost lost my very life.” Anger was burning away the hurt as pride came to her rescue.

  “But you did not. You did not. That is the important thing, surely.” He was making mock of her, his mouth rising in a lopsided grin. “Important, at least to you.”

  Katherine cried out savagely, “I came to you in need.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Did I do this to myself?” She opened the tunic and ripped it aside so that she stood barebreasted before him. The bruised shoulder and the wounded breast with the livid knife and teeth marks shone in the pale morning light. “Did I?”

  “You seek to shock me, I see. Cover yourself. I do not care what your fancies are, I have told you that.”

  Katherine fought back the tears with an effort. It seemed to her that she was always trying to justify herself to this man. For what seemed the hundredth time, she wished for the peace of the convent. Had she ever thought to take a husband that she could manage? How pleasant was that girlish dream. But even in the midst of the misunderstandings and pain that she and James Hunsdale experienced, she knew that she could not imagine life without him.

  She tried again. “Will you let me explain, James? I have not been whoring as you so elegantly put it. Why must you judge all women to be the same because of one long ago?”

  James whirled on her, his face white. “Keep your slut’s mouth quiet or I will add to your bruises!”

  The words had slipped out but Katherine could not regret them. She looked into the cold face and hated him. “You will not give me even one chance to explain?” She pulled part of her mantle about her shoulders and shivered from the cold air.

  “No, I will not. But you shall hear me. Your fancies will be restrained until you have borne my heir. Surely you could have waited to debauch yourself.” He looked at her in palpable disgust as he poured more wine.

  Katherine gave him look for look. Her pride would not fall before this man who could not trust a woman. She held her own pride high but she could not imagine how anything that had happened so long ago could so blight a life now. Then she thought of her own preoccupation with Antony’s fall and she wondered.

  “I have told you ...”

  James set the wine cup down very carefully, then walked over to her and took the unbruised shoulder in his capable swordsman’s fingers. His eyes were almost black in that unmistakable sign of rage that Katherine had come to know.

  “I will not have my name mocked, Madam. Hear me well. A maid will remain with you at all times until your flux comes. If it does not, I will have
no man’s bastard. Then, since you are so eager for sport, be assured that if you do not conceive, it will not be for lack of it.”

  She knew that he meant each word and she would not appeal further. A wave of anguish swept over her but she turned proudly and started for the door, not deigning to look back at him. His voice followed her.

  “The surveillance begins now. We leave at daybreak for the North. Be ready or you will go in your shift. It does not matter which.”

  Katherine turned in the doorway. “I thank you for your kind treatment of me, my lord husband.” With the little strength left to her she mounted the stairs and fell upon the bed as she was.

  James drank heavily of the wine, then called furiously for more, as he paced up and down cursing.

  Katherine slept the rest of that day and all night. Her wounds were tended by a new maid who was both taciturn and quick. She was thin and dark with huge black eyes. Her name was Alice Parton, she said, and was only come to the service of Lord Huns-dale the day before. She was to be Lady Hunsdale’s personal servant. James had anticipated her, then, Katherine thought tiredly, but what did it matter?

  It was still raining the next morning when the cavalcade left for Hunsdale Castle. Much of the household had been sent ahead days before. Those such as Lucy, with families in London, had remained there against the time when the King might relent and there be a need for the town house again. James would ride with them, sometimes going ahead. Katherine, the maids, and the men-at-arms would travel more slowly. They took the north road, each huddled in mantle and hood, neither speaking to the other, both morose and distant. Katherine ignored James and withdrew into herself as she had done as a child.

  However, as they rode deeper into the country it was possible to tell that spring was not too far off. March was almost upon them. The air was fresh and keen, some very early buds appeared but were battered down by the rain, her horse was lively under her hands, she was young and newly escaped from a fearful fate. Katherine forced herself to think of it now and then since she could share the burden with no one and had long known that to hide from the truth only brought pain later.