by Ann Benson
Matthews looked back and forth between the faces of the physician and Sir John, looking for some sign of pity in their stony expressions. Alejandro could not let himself look into the man’s eyes, else he knew his resolve would crack. He stared vacantly at the ground as Matthews pushed Reed’s body out of the chair and picked it up at the ankles.
With considerable effort, for Reed had been a portly man, Matthews dragged the limp and uncooperative body across the stone floor until he reached the door. He let go of the ankles, and opened the door slowly. He was greeted with dozens of ready arrows pointed in his direction by men with whom he had honorably served in many fierce battles. Not one among them responded to his pleading looks.
He dragged Reed’s plump body across the dirt courtyard. After an arduous effort he arranged the body on the pile of wood, and stood up to face his encircling companions.
His sword upraised, Sir John called, “Ready!” and the bowstrings were drawn in unison. Matthews did not stir.
Then the knight said, “Aim!” and the archers sighted their arrows. Matthews covered his eyes with his hands.
He lowered his sword, and dozens of arrows hissed through the air, nearly every one piercing Matthews’ body before the blink of an eye.
After Matthews fell, Sir John took the bow from the nearest man, and unsheathed one of his own arrows. He wrapped the front of the shaft with a piece of paraffin-soaked cloth, which he then held to a torch. Taking careful aim, he let fly the burning missile, which landed neatly in the pile of dry wood. The leaves and twigs caught immediately, and the flame roared up to devour the bodies of the dead men.
Looking around the circle of archers, he said, “God alone knows which bow loosed the fatal arrow. We shall leave it to Him to judge us all.”
“Fiends! Monsters! What horrible thing have you done?”
Isabella stood helplessly watching the raging bonfire outside the castle gate, fueled by bolts of silk and linen, and countless lengths of beautifully tatted lace. Pacing back and forth, she stared in pained frustration as the fire consumed her long-awaited finery. It was more than she could bear, and she wailed out her pathetic grief as she clutched Adele for balance.
Alejandro watched from a distance as Adele made an attempt to calm her enraged mistress. How futile! he thought angrily. Adele was powerless to stop Isabella’s splendid performance, so skillfully given for the benefit of the assembled throng. Where, he wondered, was her grief for the tailor Reed? The physician shook his head in disgust, and turned away from the sickening scene.
That night, with renewed fury and increased vigor, his dream of Carlos Alderón returned to disturb his sleep. But this time he was joined by the ghoulish figure of Matthews, filled with arrows like a target stump, running urgently after him, the shafts of the arrows clicking together in a bizarre and disturbing musical performance.
Alejandro would not release Isabella from their bargain, regardless of the fruitlessness of Matthews’ mission. With unexpected wisdom the king refused to hear his daughter’s whining petitions, and it was rumored that she had begun to disgust even her adoring father. Only patient, loyal Adele seemed capable of tolerating the princess, who had alienated nearly everyone else in the castle. Finally, during one of their increasingly frequent but still clandestine meetings, Alejandro found the courage to query Adele about this situation.
“I am torn between two warring thoughts,” he said. “I both admire your tolerance of the princess’ testy nature and abhor that she requires you to be so eternally indulgent. I doubt that I would have such success in bearing her insults.”
Adele blushed at his florid compliment. “I beg you to consider her circumstances before you pass judgment on her. Despite the remarkable advantages of her position she has no true admirers or suitors, and she is sixteen years old! I, at least, am blest by the admiration of a fine gentleman who is a skilled and attentive physician. Poor Isabella has no luck in love, and neither does her father in his attempts to make matches for her. She is twice betrothed, and yet remains a spinster.”
His heart was warmed by her confession that she enjoyed his attentions.
“But surely,” Alejandro said, “she need not be concerned at her age. You yourself are older than she, and yet unwed; I hear no complaints from you on that account.”
Adele’s look was troubled, and Alejandro instantly regretted his clumsy remark.
“I do not bemoan my state,” she said. “No one has spoken for me, it is true, and it will likely remain so until Isabella herself is busily occupied with her own wedding arrangements. It is her father who must give my hand to the man of his choice, but it will not be done without the princess’ consent. She will not agree until she no longer requires my companionship.”
Alejandro did not reply, for there was nothing to be said. Isabella would not part with her dearest friend and only supporter until it was in her interest to do so. He was embarrassed by his own lack of discretion, and apologized for any distress he might have caused Adele.
“My dear,” she said, her eyes cast down, “you must not be concerned for me. I have not been dissatisfied with my position here. I have never given much thought to marriage. There is no advantage to be gained by my betrothal, for I have no family left to whom a fortuitous match might be beneficial. Isabella is my family. I enjoy privileges in her household that few in this world will ever know. I have been content.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Until now.”
And finally he reached out and held her, as he had wanted to do since first seeing her, desperately clinging to her fiery hair with his trembling hands.
Alejandro sat at the small table in Edward’s private apartment, watching the long shafts of afternoon light play upon the opposite wall. This audience had been at the king’s bidding, and the anxious physician pondered the reason for the abrupt summons. Suddenly the door flew open and Edward strode briskly into the room. Rising immediately, Alejandro bowed, and the king waved him back into the chair. This will be a brief interview. He is preoccupied and rushed.
“Physician, I am in a difficult position, and I require your assistance.”
With suspicion in his voice Alejandro said, “Sire, how may I serve you?”
Edward caught a huge breath, as if preparing for a long response, and launched into his story. “You are aware that there is a young girl in Isabella’s household who is my child by a woman other than my queen.”
“I have been told so, yes. I thought it not my concern to inquire further, Your Majesty.”
“You possess and display much wisdom for a Spaniard, Dr. Hernandez.”
Alejandro gave no hint of his anger at the thinly veiled insult about his heritage, for the king’s remarks would have been even more biting had he known the truth. “It is no doubt due to my French training, Sire.”
The king locked eyes with the physician, knowing that his own glaring insult had been bested, but so subtly that he had no basis to claim offense. “Ah, yes, your schooling in Montpellier,” he commented. “But let me continue.” He paced about, wringing his hands.
“The child’s mother, who resides in London, has taken ill. A message was brought this morning that the lady is in the clutches of the plague.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Your Majesty. It is a truly horrible way to die.”
Anxious remorse came through in the king’s voice. “I fail to recognize, Physician, that there is a pleasing way to leave this world, and despite her distance, I still bear this lady considerable affection. It was not my choice that she be sent away to London. To this day I feel great anguish over the circumstances of her departure. I would not have had it so, were it my decision.”
Alejandro was somewhat embarrassed by the king’s expression of regret and wondered how he planned to atone for his misdoings. He said, “Your Majesty, I fail to see how I can be of assistance. I cannot cure the lady, though I would give my soul for that ability.”
Impatiently the king said, “I have no such expectation. I would ha
ve you take the child to London to her mother’s deathbed. I can no longer live with my anguish over their separation. You are best qualified to oversee her journey. There is at least some hope of her safe return to Windsor if your best skills are given to her protection. I already have far too many reasons to fear for my eternal soul. I would be relieved of the burden of this guilt.”
Alejandro was stunned. Surely this was a death sentence for both the child and himself. How could Edward justify this request?
But it was not a request. “Make ready for an immediate journey, Doctor,” the king said, “for there is little time, and you will leave at first light.”
Adele’s already china-pale face lost all its remaining color when Alejandro told her of the king’s “request.”
“Dear God … why can he not send one of the guards?”
“He believes that by accompanying Kate I can increase her chance of surviving the trip to London and back again. He is heavily burdened by guilt in the matter of her separation from her mother.”
“And well he should be. He made no effort to intervene on her behalf when Queen Philippa took the child, but simply washed his hands of the entire matter. Now he compounds his sin by sending Kate to her sure death, and you with her!” She stifled a sob. “A curse on this plague and the wretchedness it has caused!”
“Adele,” he whispered, with far more certainty than he felt, “do not fear for my return. I have been through many trials, with little hope of finding joy or contentment. Now at last I have a reason to carry on, for I am inspired by my hopes of winning your love in time.”
He was nearly trembling with the fear that she would not share his hope, but would scorn his profession of love. God curse my inexperience! I have spoken too soon.
But Adele did not scorn him, or make haste to retreat. “I have longed to hear you say these words, for I, too, would win your heart. I am loath to let you go from within these walls, for I fear that some harm will come to you outside their safety.”
“I shall return, be certain of it.”
She was not convinced. “Yes, of course you shall, just as Matthews did, and Reed with him! I shall not watch your body burn for the sake of helping the king rid himself of his past sins!”
Adele sat down on a stone bench, her mood pensive and quiet. At length she looked up at Alejandro, and made a determined declaration.
“I shall go with you and Kate.”
“That is quite impossible! Even if the king would allow it, which he surely will not, Isabella will object mightily to losing your company. I cannot see how you have any hope of accompanying us. Nor should you. This is not a mission for a lady of great delicacy.”
“Do not be deceived into mistaking me for delicate, Alejandro. I am a woman of great resolve and no small means. Since I was a small child,” she said deliberately, “I have served my lady admirably, and never given a thought to my own happiness. For all my life I have been her friend and trusted confidante, never asking a favor. She will not deny me. Nor will I ask permission of King Edward. Isabella would rather die than lose the only companion whose love for her is genuine, and not merely an instrument for gaining royal favor. She will let me go, and will make excuses to the king for my absence.”
Alejandro was in awe of her sudden boldness; he had not guessed that this quality dwelled within her. Where has she been hiding this adventuresome spirit? he wondered.
Then his reason returned. “I cannot allow you to risk your health for the sake of accompanying me. There is a terrible danger that none of us will survive.”
“I have no fear of losing a life that is devoid of nearly all I hold dear. If you are lost, and Kate, too, then I shall be alone in the world, save Isabella. I will be bitter and dry and without hope. I fear such loneliness far more than I fear death.”
Sharing her fear of loneliness, he could understand her determination. “So be it, then,” he said. “We are together in this.”
As Adele had predicted, Isabella did not deny her. She was unwilling to risk the demise of Adele’s friendship by refusing her permission to leave, but still tried mightily to persuade her to remain in the safety of Windsor’s walls.
“Dear Adele, would you leave me for a Spaniard? Are you sure that he is worthy of your affection and confidence?”
But Adele was firm with her. “He is worthy of even your affection, Isabella, but I doubt that you could see it, for you are blinded by your anger.”
Chastised, Isabella asked, “Have I wronged you in some hidden way?”
“No, dear friend, but I will wrong myself if I do not follow my heart in this matter.”
The tiny young woman hugged the willowy princess and tried to calm her. “If it be God’s will, I shall return, in the company of a good man and the child, for surely all three of us are under His loving protection.” She fingered her ruby cross, and hoped with all her heart that she was right.
Alejandro went immediately to the guardhouse and advised Sir John of their journey. A strong horse, but a gentle one, he said, would be the animal of choice for the young girl, who had little experience in such travel. He did not say that the horse would in truth be carrying two small ladies.
He gave many instructions for their return, for he and Kate would be subject to the same strict quarantine as Matthews and Reed had suffered. He had not yet considered how Adele would safely be brought back into the castle, but there would be time on their journey to devise a plan. This time the preparations would need to accommodate the more delicate needs of a very young lady.
With his usual efficiency Sir John made the necessary preparations, taking great care to select an appropriate mount. The horses were waiting by the gate when Alejandro arrived before dawn with the sleepy little girl in tow. He helped her up onto the saddle, and was alarmed at how small and lost the child looked on the huge horse’s back. He checked the provisions one more time, and prepared to mount his own horse. Then Sir John put a hand on his arm, and spoke earnestly.
“See that you shield her from harm, Physician, for should your journey end as Matthews’ did, it will not be me or any of my soldiers who put an arrow in her breast. Not even for the king.”
And with that advice Alejandro took the reins of Kate’s horse, and they rode out just as the sun cleared the horizon.
Adele hid a hundred paces into the forest, dressed in the rough clothes of a common traveler. She had made her escape from Windsor earlier by using a narrow tunnel that she and Isabella had discovered as girls. Alejandro almost missed her, for her brown tunic and gray breeches were nearly indistinguishable from the dry twigs in which she hid. Kate shrieked with delight when she saw Adele, for she had not been told of the extra company she would have on this morbid journey. In their rough travel garb they appeared to be a common family on the run from the plague. No one would mistake them for two ladies of nobility and a renegade Jew.
Fourteen
As soon as the guard left, Janie rushed to the edge of her cell and gripped the bars with white knuckles. “What is going on here?” she whispered urgently to Bruce. She saw more fright in his expression than she wanted to see.
“Just try to stay calm,” he said quietly. “This is just some sort of misunderstanding. I’m sure it will all be worked out very quickly.”
“But why are we locked up like this? All I did was drop an earring, for God’s sake! It wasn’t as if I had some kind of terrorist bomb or anything—”
Bruce interrupted her in midsentence. The look of fear on his face intensified. “I don’t think we should be talking right now,” he said. He cast his gaze around the area as if he were looking for some sort of listening device.
Idiot, Janie chided herself silently. Of course they can hear every word we’re saying. She nodded, indicating her understanding, and said nothing more.
Almost immediately the same Biocop who’d first trained the weapon on them opened the door to the cell room and entered with an air of brisk authority. He slipped his magnetic identification car
d into the wall slot as he’d done when locking them into their cells and pressed one button, a different one this time. There was another click, this one smaller than the one they’d heard when the doors closed, after which the cover plate on a small pass-through bolted into the bars of Janie’s cell slid up with a soft whirr. The guard passed through a flat plastic container, which appeared to have some sort of garment folded up inside it. Janie stared at it for a few wary moments, then reached out tentatively and took the sacklike container out of the open bin. She turned it over a few times in her hands, examining it, and then looked up at the guard. Bruce watched silently from his own cell.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A suit of sterile clothing,” the guard replied. “You are to remove all your own clothing and put it on,” he ordered.
She looked at Bruce in alarm, and he immediately said to the guard, “Can you please explain what’s going on here?” His tone was firm and conveyed clear displeasure, but Janie was surprised by the lack of anger she heard in it. He’s holding it down intentionally, she found herself thinking, and decided that she would be wise to follow his lead. What does he know about this that has him so worried? she wondered with alarm.
“The lady made an attempt to enter this facility, which as you know, Dr. Ransom, is a secured storage area.” He turned to Janie. She could barely see his facial features through the thick plastic of his mask. “You are not authorized to enter, madam.”
All notions of personal constraint left her. “I didn’t try to enter your facility,” she said angrily. “I dropped an earring and I picked it up.”
The guard was infuriatingly polite to her. “Nevertheless, madam, your arm crossed the plane of the scanner and it read your presence. It considers any reading, however incomplete, to be an entry.”
It considers … she thought. It seemed to have taken on a life of Its own, and It clearly had a great deal more authority than the guard who operated It. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Janie said, exasperated, “do I look like some kind of terrorist?”