The time that followed the ceremony was one of reflection and sobriety. The castle was strangely quiet, and even the servants worked in hushed effort. It was as though the entire community held its breath in anticipation.
Helena found it strangely comforting. She went about her duties, seeing to Timothy’s needs when Arianne was busy with other tasks and writing songs in her head when moments of inspiration came upon her.
On Easter Eve, the candles surrounding the sepulcher were extinguished. A single candle, the great Paschal candle, was lit as an all-night vigil of the clergy began. Arianne watched with Helena, deeply disappointed that Richard had not yet returned. Helena felt her lady’s sorrow and reached out a hand to reassure the duchess.
They walked back to the castle in silence, a procession of knights and their families following behind. Many parted at the castle gatehouse for their own homes, while unmarried knights took refuge in the barracks provided for them within the castle walls.
To Helena it seemed as though a great shroud had been placed upon them. The silence fell heavy in an almost smothering way. Each sound seemed magnified against the stillness; each footstep rustling against the rushes upon the floor echoed loudly within the dark, damp halls. It was a hallowed time.
Matilda handed Arianne a cresset lamp with oil. Without being told, she lit the wick and nodded, as though words would somehow have been a blasphemy of the moment. Arianne, bearing the lamp, went upstairs with Helena following closely behind her. They parted at Helena’s room, Arianne placing a silent kiss upon her cheek.
“Let us pray that Richard returns soon and,” she added almost as an afterthought, “that Devon will return and bring Richard’s brother home.”
Helena nodded and sought the refuge of her room. The fire burned low, and Helena knew it would only be a matter of time before the castle curfew or “cover fire” would be upon them and the watchman would make his rounds to stoke up the hearth fires for the night.
Feeling the cold and damp penetrate her skin, she readied herself for bed. A song came to her lips, and only when she began to sing did Helena realize it was a requiem. The mournful words flooded the room, while the haunting melody seemed to drip down from the walls and flood the stones below.
With slow, almost practiced steps, Helena went to the bed and knelt on the turned-back covers. Reaching up, she loosed the ties that held back the canopy curtains surrounding the bed and closed them around her.
Heavy brocade snuffed out the light from the hearth. It was like burying herself in the sepulcher, Helena thought. She pulled the covers high to her chin and settled upon the satin-covered pillow. Then with a will of its own, her mouth opened and again the eerie strains of mourning filled the night’s silence.
❧
Arianne stood at the window of her bedroom. While the priests kept vigil in the church, she kept her own for Richard’s return. Silently, she brushed her copper hair and with each stroke thought of her husband’s absence and the longing she felt for his return. Had it only been weeks? It truly felt as though a lifetime had passed since she’d last felt his arms around her or heard his boyish laughter ringing in the halls.
Putting the brush aside, Arianne hugged her arms to her body and looked out upon the darkened lands.
“Oh, Richard,” she whispered. Just then, Helena’s sad voice came through in a muffled song.
Arianne strained to hear the words, but couldn’t make them out. She thought of how blessed Helena was. The voice of an angel, Matilda had said, and Arianne thought perhaps even angels would behold Helena’s voice in awe.
But tonight was different, Arianne thought. Usually Helena’s songs were light, lyrical, and joyful. This was music for the dead, and Arianne knew that it came from deep within Helena’s own heart. Was she wishing that she were dead?
“Dear Father,” Arianne prayed in earnest, “go to her and give her peace.” Then glancing out again to a world that would offer no hope of her husband’s return, Arianne pleaded for the same comfort for herself.
“Bring him home, Lord,” she begged. “Bring Richard home soon and with him Devon and Tancred, as well.”
Timothy began to fuss, and Arianne went to the cradle and tenderly took him in hand. Taking him with her to the bed, Arianne settled down to nurse him. She took great comfort in this action. Somehow with Timothy beside her, she felt Richard’s presence. Her cheeks flushed warm at the thought of Timothy’s life coming out of her love for Richard. What wonders God had wrought and how inconceivable His ways, Arianne thought.
Just then Helena’s singing ended and somehow its absence made the silence seem overwhelming. Arianne cuddled Timothy closer and nuzzled his soft head with her lips.
“Dear Father,” she whispered, “let this night pass quickly.”
Chapter 9
Helena awoke and pushed back the bed curtains, just as the morning sun was streaking the horizon with pale, rose-colored light. Taking the fur that had been placed upon her bed for added warmth, Helena wrapped it tightly around her and stood in the open window.
As each inch of darkness yielded to the light, Helena felt a small corner of her heart yield as well. It was easier to be brave in the light, she mused. Staring out across the newly plowed fields to the forest of trees in the distance, Helena wondered how much longer she would be able to stay at Gavenshire.
“Oh, Father,” she whispered in a moan, leaning heavily against the stone that framed the window opening. There was little else to say, for in her heart she had no words. Words seemed inadequate. What more could she ask of God?
From the village and bailey below her came sounds of the morning. Cocks crowed and hushed voices rose to sounds of merriment and laughter. It was Easter, and today they would celebrate the resurrection of Christ. Helena smiled sadly. She had tried so hard to bury her suffering, yet daily it seemed to come back to life with a will of its own. What strange creatures we must seem to God, she thought.
It wasn’t long before a young girl appeared at Helena’s door to help her dress for morning services. Helena felt extremely privileged as she donned a tunic of the finest pale pink silk. It felt soft and cold against her body, but Helena relished it. The neckline had been embroidered by her own hand with tiny flower buds and ivy twining. Next came a surcoat of amber velvet. Helena had never known anything so regal in all of her life.
“You look grand, Milady,” the girl said boldly. And indeed she was right in saying so.
Helena waited patiently while the girl dressed her hair and secured a thin white wimple to cover her head and neck. She was bringing Helena her slippers when Arianne knocked on the door.
“Good Easter morn,” she announced, sweeping into the room.
She was resplendent in her sendal tunic of cream and surcoat of dark green velvet. The sendal material made a rustling sound, causing Arianne to smile. “My finery will no doubt announce me in church.”
Helena laughed and curtsied. “You are truly a pleasure to behold your grace. Would that your husband could be here.”
“Aye,” Arianne sighed. “I prayed it might be so.” Her words seemed sad, but still she smiled. “The day is not yet out. Perhaps Richard will arrive after church.”
“Let us hope so,” Helena replied.
They made their way to the bailey below with a crowd of others following and gathering around them. Easter was quite a celebration for the people. The villeins would be given time off to enjoy a rest from their labors, knights would test their skills against each other in mock joust, and nobility would survey all from amidst the revelry and deem it good.
Helena had been a part of Easter celebrations before, but never anything so grand and glorious. They made their way to the church, finding smiling faces and happy greetings wherever they went.
“I truly love this,” Arianne stated as they walked. “I have enjoyed o
ur own castle chapel, but the church in town allows me to be amidst all the people. I feel as though I’ve always belonged here.”
Helena grimaced, but did not allow Arianne to see her pain. The words only served to remind her that she did not belong here or anywhere and that only by Arianne’s kindness had she been allowed to stay. What would happen when the duke returned? Perhaps he would insist Helena reveal her identity and go home. What would she do then?
The pealing of the church bells brought Helena out of her stupor. It was impossible to be lost in such gloomy thought with such glorious sounds all around her. It made Helena want to sing, and in spite of her resolve to be quiet, she began to hum to herself. If Arianne heard, she said nothing. She was too busy laughing and greeting the people around her.
“Richard told me that the priest has arranged to present the Quem quaeritis,” Arianne said in a whisper to Helena. “It will come at the end of the mass.”
“I have heard of this but never seen it,” Helena replied as they walked up the steps of the church and were greeted by the priest.
Ushered inside by two of Richard’s most trusted men, Arianne and Helena stood upon the straw-covered floor and awaited the procession on the priests and choirboys. With a song of celebration, they entered the church. Helena watched in complete captivation as the cross was brought out from the mock sepulcher and laid upon the altar.
At this, they knelt in the straw and bowed their heads as the priest offered up a Latin prayer. The service progressed in a series of prayers, songs, and ceremony. At the end of the service, the priest stepped behind a screen and then reappeared with three other men for the Quem quaeritis, a reenactment of the resurrection story.
One priest, dressed in white vestments and holding a palm in his hand, represented the angel at the tomb. “Quem quaeritis in sepulchro?” he questioned. “Whom do you seek in the sepulcher?”
The others, representing the three Marys, answered in unison, “Jesus of Nazareth.”
Helena’s breath caught. It was a moving play, and in her mind, she could very nearly imagine it was all real and happening for the first time. “Whom do you seek?” a voice seemed to question within her soul.
Tears came to her eyes. For all of her life, she had been raised in the beliefs and understandings of the church. She had never once questioned the existence of God or of His Son Jesus Christ. She practiced with the utmost reverence the requirements of her faith, yet in all that time she could not say in honesty that it had been God whom she sought.
“He is not here, He has risen,” the angel-priest was announcing.
With this, the three Marys turned to the choir and replied, “Hallelujah, the Lord is risen today!” Then, the choir joined in a chorus of praise.
The angel-priest moved to where the cross had been placed in the wall. He lifted the veil that now covered the opening and said, “Come, see the place.”
The Marys crossed to peer inside, while two men representing the apostles Peter and John appeared from behind the screen. John was in white and holding a palm, while Peter was dressed in red and carrying keys.
John reached the sepulcher first, but Peter reached inside. He pulled out the gravecloth in which the cross had been wrapped on Good Friday. “He is not here.”
“He is risen as he said,” the angel-priest announced.
Helena felt the tears flow down her cheeks. “Quem quaeritis? Whom do you seek?” She thought of Tanny and the love that might have been given to the hope that she would one day find him. “Whom do you seek?”
She watched the play continue with the exit of two of the Marys. The third, dressed in red and representing Mary Magdalene, stood weeping. For some reason, this made Helena cry all the more.
“Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?”
The voice went straight to Helena’s heart. She knew that God had been with her through all the years of anguish and lonely heartache. Now, it seemed as though this simple trooping of the resurrection story had brought a realization to Helena’s soul. God wanted her to seek Him, Him alone. Not Tanny and not a home or place where she’d feel safe. God wanted her to seek only Him.
“They have taken my Lord,” the man playing Mary stated in a sobbing voice.
The miracle unfolded, and the man playing Jesus revealed himself to Mary, much as God was revealing Himself to Helena as she stood and beheld the story.
“Rabboni,” Mary said, falling to the ground. “My master.”
“Rabboni,” Helena whispered, knowing in her heart that God had truly taken control of her life.
The performance ended with a glorious hymn sung by the choir. “Te Deum Laudamus—We praise Thee, God.” Overhead, the bell pealed in celebratory announcement. “He is risen. He is not here.”
Helena left the church a converted woman much, she imagined, as Mary must have left the garden. Just the knowledge that she was no longer bound to her fears gave Helena the first real happiness she’d known since her beloved had gone away.
All around the revelry was evident. There was dancing and singing, feasting and gifting. The tenants of the land brought eggs in payment to the castle, while in return Arianne had planned a great feast for all the people.
Arianne acted as hostess with Helena never leaving her side except to take baby Timothy upstairs in order to remove him from the noise of the castle bailey. Helena knew that Arianne scanned the horizon constantly for some sign of her husband, and when evening was approaching, the call that she had waited for finally came.
“The duke approaches!” one of the battlement guards called out.
“The duke!” Murmurs ran through the crowd, and people stopped their feasting to line the entryway into the castle.
Arianne glanced around for Helena and then remembered that she’d gone to take Timothy for his changing. “Matilda!” she said, beckoning the woman from the crowd. “Run, get Helena and Timothy. I would present him to his father and show Richard how much he has grown.” Matilda quickly went in search of Helena, while Arianne rushed forward to greet her husband.
Three horsemen appeared in front of the procession, and Arianne instantly recognized each rider. Richard rode slightly to the front, with Devon and Tancred bringing up the rear.
“Richard!” she shouted and hurried to his side.
Richard dismounted in a leap and pulled her into his arms. “I have missed you sorely, sweet wife,” he whispered and kissed her boldly in front of everyone.
Cheers below went up from the crowd, and Helena could only wonder at what matter had stirred them this time. There had been such cheering and shouting all day, and at times, Helena had worried that the babe’s ears would be harmed from such noise. Nestling Timothy against her tightly, Helena moved through the happy people.
She knew from Matilda that the duke had returned, and no doubt his people were simply celebrating that fact. As the crowd parted for her, however, she found herself only a few feet away from the embracing couple and instantly flushed at the scene.
Arianne pulled back and saw her. “Richard, come see your son. He has grown wondrously since you last saw him.”
Richard smiled at Helena, who was now trembling. “Your Grace,” she said, as Richard reached out and took the baby.
“You are looking much better than the last time I saw you,” Richard said with a smile.
Helena nodded but refused to meet his eyes. Would he send her away? Again, peace washed over her, and Helena realized it didn’t matter. Lifting her gaze, she smiled.
“Much better,” Richard said, then smiled down at his son. “And you truly have grown.”
Helena noted the two men who were dismounting but gave them little thought until Arianne went to embrace each one of them. They had their backs to her, but Helena could see the smile of pleasure and something akin to relief in Arianne’s eyes.
&nb
sp; Richard handed Timothy back to Helena and pulled her forward. “You must meet my brother,” he said firmly.
“It has been a long time,” Arianne was telling one of the men. “I am glad you have returned.”
Helena thought little of the matter, but when her eyes lifted to meet the man whom Richard introduced, she was stunned silent.
“Helena, this is my brother, John Tancred DuBonnet.”
Helena’s eyes were drawn to Tancred’s against her will. “Tanny,” she murmured so softly that no one understood her. Her arms began to shake, and she thought for a moment she might drop Timothy. Arianne noted her state and quickly took the baby from her.
“Helena, is it well with you?” Arianne whispered against her ear. But Helena only stared dumbfounded at the man before her.
“Milady,” Tancred said, with a slight bow. He was mesmerized by the huge blue eyes that refused to break their hold on him. She was clearly the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld.
“Helena?” Richard said, noting the whiteness of her face. “Are you ill?”
“Mayhaps she’s just taken in by the charming faces of these men,” Arianne teased lightly. She was truly worried about her lady-in-waiting, but refused to cause Helena any further embarrassment. “Helena needs to attend to Timothy’s bath. Come, no doubt my son will seek his feeding as well.”
Helena allowed herself to be led away by Arianne, but still she said nothing. How could it be so? Tanny, her own beloved Tanny, had come to her. Still, he knew her naught. She had been but a child when last they’d met, and now she was a grown woman. Should she go to him and reveal herself? Yet in revealing herself, she would also betray her true identity.
“Have you not heard me?” Arianne questioned with a gentle nudge.
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