This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  Katherine shifted position slightly and as she did so she saw that James was steadily rubbing the rope on his arms against the outcropping of rock. His eyes met hers but his face did not alter its set expression.

  Rykos gestured toward the sacrificial area and Katherine lay back as he indicated, trying to move as if in a trance. She was still afraid but the anger was with her now, burning white hot. Silently she prayed, “One opportunity, that is all I ask.” He spoke to the worshippers in the language they knew and Katherine rose on one elbow, thrusting her hand into the crown of hair. Immediately she touched and palmed the dagger as she put her hands down by her sides and lay still.

  Somewhere a drum beat softly and then was stilled. The cultists knelt as if felled by a giant hand. Katherine felt the coming of evil as a palpable thing. Then she heard her name called out in a passion of grief. It was James who stood staring at her, his face contorted in pain. She ached and saw the look of infinite satisfaction on the face of Rykos.

  He came to her then and raised the long blade high. The clearing was very still, only the flickering torches moved. Katherine forced herself to lie quietly on the chill stone though she longed to scream until her throat tore. Rykos called,

  “He comes. He comes. Hail, the Master!”

  In the moment that they cried in ecstasy, the moon went behind a cloud and the knife came down with savage barbarity, Katherine jerked aside and, with a ferocity born of terror, launched herself at Rykos. So swift was her action that they appeared only a huddled mass on the altar. She was on top of him in an instant and, in that time of surprise, drove the needle-sharp point into his eye, then jerked it back. He screamed with agony, once, twice. Satan’s followers threw themselves face down and moaned and writhed with excitement.

  James sawed the more frantically at the ropes which parted and fell just as another, longer scream rose from behind the altar. Katherine had been seized by Rykos who tried to strangle her but the pain in his eye was too great As he clapped a hand to the bleeding socket, she brought up her knee in an instinctive gesture into his crotch. He dropped the sacrificial knife, she caught it and drove it straight into his back as he bent over in pain. There was a final gurgle and then total silence. She lay on the dead body of her tormentor, savagely glad that he was dead by her own hand. She rose to her knees.

  The revellers now lay prone, not a head lifted. The moon shone white and full on the macabre scene. The chanting had ceased. She felt a touch on her arm and looked into the eyes of her husband. He pointed toward the tiny path that led down into the wood on this side of the altar. She nodded, then slowly and carefully they made their way down it. At the bottom James took off his mantle and wrapped it about her almost naked body. Still cautiously they inched along through the underbrush, then began to run. There was a stitch in Katherine’s side, her feet were bruised and aching. James was bleeding from the cut on his face but they ran on, cold, sweating, and free.

  After they had been about fifteen minutes into the wood, there was a single blood-curdling cry from the distance of the clearing and the chant turned to one of blood lust. The hunt was on and wild cries were all about them. It seemed that they were pursued by the evil one in tangible form. The very branches that slapped their faces were hands pulling them back to death and horror. They heard the sound of bodies crashing through brush and the slap of feet on paths.

  Suddenly Katherine fell prone and could not rise. Her breath came in gasps and pants.

  “I cannot go further. Leave me.”

  James slapped her face hard. His eyes were glittering in the pale light of the moon. She began to cry and he jerked her face around to his.

  “You did not endure all that to die by a path in these woods. Get up, you silly woman. I cannot carry you and I will not leave you.”

  His hand came hard over her mouth then as a figure dashed by not three yards from them.

  “Here, I heard them. Listen.” The voice was male, winded and slow.

  They crouched under the cover of the dense bushes, not even breathing for long minutes. Then the heavy footsteps started up again and faded away. It might have been a trick so they stayed where they were until their legs grew cramped and exhausted. They did not dare move, however.

  James lifted a finger and pointed to the path; Katherine followed his gaze. It had been empty for a long time, now a rabbit sat in the chill moonlight, seeming to watch them. Reassured, they rose and began to move cautiously along it. Katherine was able to keep pace with James now for the path went downhill and the undergrowth was less dense.

  “Look.” James gestured toward a hill which seemed to overlook the small valley into which they were about to descend. It had been fortunate for them that they paused to consider the landscape before emerging from the concealing trees. Several dark figures in long robes stood massed under a tree on the hill, obviously watching the path. Katherine shrank back against him and they started to turn back.

  Suddenly a figure jumped out in front of them, sword raised, edge gleaming in the moonlight. Simultaneously others surrounded them and one snatched the sacrificial knife that James had picked up at the altar. Katherine threw herself on the man who held James back, but was roughly tossed aside. The mantle fell open and her young body shone white and full through the gauze, the crooked cross blazed from her breast. James saw and writhed at the iron grip which bound him helpless. Katherine looked up at the ring of intent faces, her overwrought nerves gave way and she screamed with all her might again and again, the high sound carrying on the night wind.

  Chapter 33

  "Him That Had Best Cause to Be True"

  The harsh voice of their captor jerked Katherine back to sanity and caused James to cease his struggles.

  “Who are you? Why are you abroad dressed this way? Speak up or matters will be the worse for you.” They looked to be a partial troop of soldiers, some fifteen or twenty of them, all fully armed, weapons at the ready.

  James said, “We are pursued by madmen, they await us yonder, and go in danger of our lives. Take us to your camp, anywhere, but let us be gone from these woods while we may.”

  One of the men came diffidently up. The robed figures had vanished and the hill shone bare but he waved an arm toward the area and said, “There are strange things in these woods. I have lived around here all my life but I would not venture in them alone this time of the year, that I can tell you.”

  The older one who seemed to be the leader gave James a strip of cloth to wind around his head and ordered a mantle to be wrapped around Katherine in addition to the blood-splattered one she already wore.

  “We will take you to the village where you will be kept to speak to our captain in the morning.”

  It seemed miles to the village and to Katherine, whose feet seemed to tear open with each step, an eternity. They spoke no further words but the men were watchful and took care to separate her from James.

  The one inn of the village was small but comfortable. Katherine and James were locked in separate rooms until authority could be reached. The girl threw herself on the bed as she was and was instantly asleep, nerves and body could take no more.

  In the late afternoon she was roused, allowed to wash, given an old gray dress far too large for her, and taken to the common room of the inn where a well-dressed young officer eyed her coldly. James was already there, his wound dressed and the blood sponged from his clothes.

  He looked at Katherine full face and the light that burned in his eyes set her pulses leaping. He came to her side and helped her into a chair.

  “Katherine, my love, how do you fare?”

  Never had she thought to hear such words from him. Did he mock her? Tears swam in the green eyes. “Aye, my dear lord, I am well and the babe seems unharmed.”

  “Then I ask no more on this earth.”

  The officer intervened. “You say you are of the gentry and were attacked by devil worshippers.” His tone was clipped and his hand stayed near his sword as the soldiers who ringed
the room watched.

  Angrily James said, “Do me the courtesy, sir, to heed me. Release my wife and myself so that we may return to London, there to seek redress and justice. We have gone in peril of our lives and are not minded to be treated as though we are criminals.”

  The officer gave James glare for glare. “You go nowhere until your identity is proven. How do I know that you are not spies?”

  “How dare you speak thus to me?” James rose to his full height, fury in every line of his body. Katherine came to stand beside him.

  “What sort of spies?” James was suddenly alert to something he had missed.

  Katherine stared at him, an awful suspicion coming into her mind.

  “The Duke of Buckingham, King Richard’s sworn friend and most honored by him, has risen in rebellion and with him many of the shires. The King knows and hastens to battle. All who can be spared are rallying to him. There is also a rumor that Henry of Richmond has sailed from Brittany to seek the crown.”

  “Richard, my God, what will this do to him?” James paced back and forth in an agony of spirit. “I have told you over and over that I am James Hunsdale, counsellor and friend to the King. I must be with him when the battle is joined. Look you, take some of your men and ride with me to the King. He will identify me. We cannot waste time.”

  The young officer was adamant. “So was Buckingham good friend to King Richard. We stay here.”

  Katherine stood in shock. What had Rykos told her of the planned rebellion, of the triumph to be offered up on All Hallows Eve, a King for a King? The cult would flourish, he had said, when the usurper was pushed from the throne. No matter that she did not believe in witchcraft; many did and it was as good a rallying point as any.

  “Listen . . .” She turned to the officer and her swift compelling voice as well as the crooked cross and the anguish in her green eyes convinced them.

  “My God, one hears tales of such things. Very well, I and my men will ride with you to the King to offer what we can. If you lie, I will kill you myself.”

  James stood looking at him for a moment. His eyes seemed to see what the others could not. “Yes, his friends must be with him. Richard can trust so few. He can be proud of such as you.”

  The man flushed to the roots of his hair and Katherine smiled, knowing that he was now their ally.

  It had begun to rain as they rode through the countryside all that day and most of the next. Messengers sent ahead reported that the hastily assembled army of the king was perhaps a day’s hard ride ahead. Katherine had begun to have cramps and could go no further. Permission was given to leave her at an inn in one of the villages on the way where she could be tended. Two guards would remain with her until their identity was proven.

  The innkeeper’s wife vowed to tend her carefully for in addition to the cramps, she was spotting blood and shaking with heat and cold. The girl lay in the soft down bed of the inn’s best room while outside the rain poured down and the soldiers waited impatiently. James, clad now in battle gear, kissed her long and hard as she wrapped her arms around him in an agony of parting.

  He spoke to the landlady in a hard voice. “I charge you, good Madam, with the care of my wife. Tend her well for she is dearer to me than my life. I hold you for it.”

  Katherine wanted to cry. Such words from the taciturn James were almost more than she could bear.

  “Jamie, go to the King who has need of you. I shall be well and all our life lies before us.”

  The woman turned from their longing. “Aye, Master, she shall be well tended but she must rest quietly, lest the babe be displaced.”

  James bent to her again. “Katherine, when I return, there is much that you do not know about me. It may be that you will wish to seek divorce. If so I will not say you nay. But, this once, I will tell you. I love you.”

  With her last bit of strength, Katherine sat up against the pillows and smiled at him. “I have ever loved you, my husband, and nothing that you do or have ever done will alter that. Know this and take it into battle as your shield.”

  His gray eyes laughed into hers and she struggled against the coming tears. “Lady mine, as I have said, you read too many romances. Be sure I will hold you to such eager avowals.”

  She laughed then and so it was that he left her with the memory of her bright head high against the pillows and the emerald eyes blazing into his.

  Katherine entered now into a nightmare world where red and black alternated. Wild faces swung before her eyes, she struggled through endless swamps of mire, sometimes falling and sinking deep, she hid in caves only to see dead men at her feet. At times she screamed for peace and felt hands holding her down while a dagger came slowly down. Hammers rang in her head and rivers of blood seemed to flow over her.

  Sometimes she had a moment of clarity and would know that she was being bathed in cool water, urged to drink soup, that a priest was near murmuring the comforting words of Scripture. Then the darkness caught her again and she west with it into that world where no one could follow. Once there was the sound of a man’s bitter tears, a shaking voice saying, “For my sins, for my sins.” Then a softer voice saying in answer, “Our God is not such as we, my son.”

  Then suddenly she came to reality and saw the faint sunlight through the small paned window and felt the warmth of the fire on the hearth. An unknown woman dozed before it and, as she moved her aching eyes carefully about, James bent over her. He was gaunt and pale, the hawk eyes red-rimmed, but his hands on her trembling ones were sure and steady. “Katherine, do you know me?”

  Her voice seemed to come with great effort. “The battle, you must go. Why have you delayed?” Her hands went to her stomach in terror as knowledge smote her.

  “The child remains and Sir Anselm believes that, if you rest and take care, all will be well. He is strong and determined, this son of ours.”

  She tried to lift her body and failed. He adjusted the pillows and sat beside her. “The battle? What has happened?”

  “I will tell you a little, lest you fret and make yourself worse. The rebellion is ended, Richard yet rules. Buckingham is executed for the foul traitor he was. The Tudor has sailed away, having never landed. The weather played more part in all this than did our feats of arms. Never has there been such a flooding nor such tempestuous storming. The realm is safe. I was in time to fight in a minor skirmish before even reaching the King. I sent him my loyalty and was warmly received.”

  “What month is it? It seems so cold.”

  “November, Katherine. Rest now.”

  The door opened then and Sir Anselm entered, several maids behind him. “Lord James, you must leave now. There is yet much to be done.”

  Over the ministrations of her friend and the maids, Katherine learned that she had wandered in delirium for many weeks. James had been as one crazed, demanding that physicians and supplies as well as her own servants be fetched from London. Linens, fine foods, wines of all types, and ointments had come. The King’s own physician had conferred lengthily with Sir Anselm and had expressed grave doubts as to the life of mother and child. Only her strong constitution and Anselm’s good care had saved them both. She must rest here for weeks longer until her body was restored.

  One cold, blustery morning some weeks later Katherine was pacing up and down in her room. She was weary of captivity, however kind and comforting. Sleet blew against the windows of the inn and made her long for the fresh air. The hollows had begun to fade from her thin face but her eyes were still haunted. She was afraid of the dark and candles had to be burned in profusion at night. She thought of her anguished confession only the other day.

  “Father, I am not yet contrite that I took a human life. Right gladly did I slay him and would again. I prayed for the strength to live until I could take revenge. The very lack of sorrow fills me with dread.”

  The old priest had seen much in his time and was a compassionate human being. “Do you give Him credit for so little understanding, Lady Katherine? Be comforted, for
His love forgives us much. You are His true servant.”

  His benediction eased her sore heart.

  Now she peered into the polished steel mirror trying to see if the sheen had returned to her hair, then turned restlessly from it. For one thing she was sincerely thankful, the swelling of the child was causing the crooked cross to lessen in intensity on her breast. Burn scars faded remarkably with time, Sir Anselm had said in his matter-of-fact way that left no room for self-pity.

  She said to herself now, “Ah, I am weary of this sheltered life. I long for life again, laughter, people, my husband’s arms ...”

  She halted as James came into the room, his face grim and dark.

  “What is it? Has something happened?”

  He laughed but the sound was forced. “No, I think it is time that we returned to London. You are not fully recovered but you will be well tended in our house there. I will give strict orders.”

  “You sound as if you will not be with me.”

  He looked levelly at her. His face was closed. “I have decided to go abroad now that I no longer have such onerous duties at court and since all is well with you.”

  She strove to match his tone. “Where will you go?”

  “Italy, Spain. I am not really sure yet.”

  “What of the child?”

  “Many children are born without their fathers present. I will tell you that the King himself has promised to stand godfather.”

  Katherine could not believe that this was happening, not all over again after all the endured anguish. Why was he retreating from her again?

  “Are you saying that you wish a divorce?”

  “You are my lady wife and about to bear my heir. Of course not. I do not willingly cause you pain, Katherine, but I must be free to seek my own life. You will lack for nothing.”

  Just everything that made life worthwhile. The kindness tore her apart. It was not such tolerance for a breeding woman that she wanted from the man she loved. The weak tears of illness dropped on her velvet gown and spotted it. She brushed fruitlessly at them.