by Mark Tufo
Grimacing slightly, she took a deep breath. The cramps made her stomach feel like it was being pulled from the inside out. Panting softly, she doubled over when another cramp hit her as if she was being crushed by a raging bull. The moisture between her legs grew and she let out a slow groan. Throwing back the blankets, she looked down and began screaming.
In the pool of blood, a child was squirming. It let out a shrill cry, filling the room and piercing her ears. Covered in afterbirth, its slick skin writhed against hers, and Isabel shoved her heels deep into the bed, pushing herself away from it. The long umbilical cord unraveled but kept her tethered to the infant. Letting out another horrified scream, she felt the world tremble. Her body was being rocked violently and the more she screamed, the more her body shook until finally she could hear a voice in the distance calling her.
“Isabella!” It shouted, cutting through the screams.
Isabel stopped screaming long enough to look around and find her nurse.
“Mari, please! Help me!”
Mari’s hand gripped Isabel from somewhere. Her voice was suddenly as clear as day, and no longer far away, “Isabella, wake up!”
Mari’s voice was firm and demanding of Isabel’s compliance. Isabel opened her eyes with a deep, gulping inhale. Mari was fending off Isabel’s clawing and kicking limbs, while trying to curl the girl into the protective embrace of her arms.
“Isabella, it’s all right! Shhh.” Mari whispered against her ear, tightening her arms around the frantic young girl.
Isabel was gulping in more air between sobs. Drawing her knees to her chest, she piled her entire body into her nursemaid’s lap. Mari rocked her gently, and hummed while running her fingers through the damp, matted curls of Isabel’s hair. Working the knots out, she alternated hands. One wiped away the beads of sweat from her forehead, the other separating the twisted nest of hair caused by her thrashing.
“Look,” she chided softly and playfully, “now we’ll have to redo your hair for the party.”
Isabel was still trembling but began the slow process of calming down. The longer she was awake, the further the dream faded away. Finally, opening her eyes, she looked down to her nightgown. It was dry and clean, except for the sweat from the exertion and fear.
“Do you wish to tell me about it?” Mari moved so that she could look into Isabel’s eyes.
Isabel shook her head. Talking about it would force her to remember. Remembering it would bring the images to her mind again. She couldn’t bear it. Maris nodded her head and brushed Isabel’s hair away from her eyes.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and put your new dress on. I’m sure your mother and father can’t wait to see you in it.”
Isabel forced a smile and sat up. The girls were sent in when Mari exited to assist her. Two of the girls were Isabel’s age, three were older. The eldest was Anna, who did Isabel’s hair. She loved the braids and twists that Anna adorned her with, and the gentle hand she used soothed Isabel to a calm state. Anna’s face was a welcome sight when she came through the door.
The second eldest was Sofie. She was the seamstress for Isabel and her mother. She made sure that all of Isabel and her mother’s clothing not only fit but lay impeccably without a thread out of place. Sofie’s soft voice came wafting in before she turned the corner and Isabel’s smile became less fake and more sincere.
The third eldest woman was in charge of Isabel’s hygiene and jewelry. Handing Isabel a rag, and a bowl of watered spices as she approached, she would supervise while the young woman cleaned her teeth. The strong herbs stung momentarily at Isabel’s lips and gums but she rubbed them in. Satisfied, the older woman named Beth handed her a cup of water to rinse.
When Isabel was done, Beth supervised the two girls who were of Isabel’s age as they washed her hands and feet. One of the girls, Amy, used a small stick to get under her finger and toe nails. The other, Jane, began affixing her jewelry. Placing the rings on her fingers, Jane walked behind Isabel and placed the new strand of opals and rubies that her mother had commissioned for this occasion around her neck. The gold wrapped around her throat snugly and then a delicate chain cascaded downward, finished with a cross that was handset with matching rubies.
“You look so beautiful, Isabel.” Amy announced, pulling her to the mirror to look for herself.
Isabel took in a soft breath at the sight of the beautiful piece, gingerly bringing her fingers up to trace the curl of the gold filigree. Sofie placed a few decorative flowers in her hair and they all giggled before stepping back and letting her look at her reflection.
The dress was white with embroidered, red roses all the way down to the hem. Her hair coiled in beautiful curls down her shoulders and tied back with a red sash. The splash of white flora against her dark strands made her eyes sparkle. The way the necklace cradled the base of her long, swan-like neck almost brought tears to Isabel’s eyes. Glancing down, she saw that Sofie even managed to make her slippers match, perfectly.
Stepping into them, she laughed.
“All this fuss! Just for my birthd-“ the words cut off from her throat as she looked up, and into the mirror, again.
In its reflection, she saw the ladies but their faces were disfigured and twisted into horrifying grins. The hollow of their eyes were blacked out. Their teeth gnashed and their jaws opened wide, allowing black tongues to whip and coil down past their chins.
Isabel screamed and looked to her neck. The red jewels were replaced with a slit in her throat that gaped angrily and bled down the front of her chest into the white satin of her dress. She choked and grasped at her neck trying to stop the bleeding, but the blood leaked and sprayed past her fingers and onto the stone floor. The girls swooped in like vultures. Their hands grabbed at her flesh and she looked on in terror as the mirror reflected the image of her body being torn to pieces.
“Isabel!” Amy cried and tried to pull her away from the mirror.
Isabel jerked away and spun, again. This time she knocked the tray over and the water with the herbs splattered all over the floor. Skittering away and back against the furthest wall, Isabel faced the ladies. Their reflection no longer in front of her, all five of them looked at her with concern and bewilderment. Afraid to reach out for her again, they stood there in stunned silence.
Mari ran in again and brushed past the girls, “Isabella? What is it!?”
Isabel’s first reaction was to pull away but Mari got ahold of her and kept her still. Isabel’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head with confusion.
“What is happening to me?” She cried.
Mari’s hands slowly collected Isabel until she was fully within her embrace. Isabel’s knees gave in and she crumpled to a heap on the floor surrounded by the others.
“Go, Amy. Fetch something to clean the floor.” Mari ordered, shooing the girl with one hand while keeping the other around Isabel.
Amy remained still for a several breaths, staring at Isabel before she was able to process the movement from her brain to her feet. She returned just seconds later with the towels. Going to her knees, she mopped up the water but kept glancing over at Isabel. Sofie stood back, frowning as she mourned the efforts she put into the dress which was now in a crumpled, wrinkled pile on the floor with Isabel in the center.
“She saw something in the mirror.” Sofie said, pointing at it.
Maris looked over her shoulder at the mirror and the reflection. Nothing seemed amiss but Isabel continued to shy away and avert her eyes from it.
It took almost twenty minutes to calm Isabel down this time and convince her that she was probably suffering from the stress of her nightmare and the excitement of her party that evening. Mari persuaded her to look in the mirror, confirming that it was just her imagination. When she finally conceded and gazed into its reflection, Isabel’s brows furrowed. Her concern was growing into a full panic, now.
“I think we should call the doctor in. Maybe he will prescribe a tonic to calm your nerves.” Mari said, once
more combing her fingers through Isabel’s hair.
“Please, don’t tell my mother and father, Mari. I don’t want them to worry. Let them enjoy the party. They worked so hard on it.” Isabel squeezed Mari’s hand as she pleaded with her.
Mari considered it for a bit then finally agreed, “All right but if anything else happens I will tell them, straight away.”
“Yes, nurse, I understand.” Grateful for Mari’s cooperation, Isabel moved to the bench in front of her vanity and waited the doctor’s visit.
The doctor came and did a brief physical examination then concocted the tonic for her which she drank, quickly. The strength of the medicine caused her to wince and make a face but she got it all down. Within minutes, she was drifting off to sleep on the soft fur blanket of her bed.
Mari sat beside Isabel on the chair that was beside her and began to knit while she waited for the girl’s nap to end. Every now and then, she’d pause and check on her. She smiled softly and leaned in, placing a kiss to side of her forehead. Mari had looked after Isabel since she was just a baby. This was a big day for her, but also for Mari and Isabel’s parents. Today she would meet George. George was one of the suitors for Isabel’s hand in marriage. Their parents would allow them to meet, then begin talks of negotiation for their betrothal if everything went as planned. Of the two that showed interest in Isabel, George is the one that Mari favored, the most.
Kneeling down beside Isabel’s bedside, Mari pulled out her rosary. Pressing the crucifix against her lips, she kissed the well-worn metal and closed her eyes to pray for her girl. Not even the first word was whispered before the woman’s eyes snapped open suddenly. She tried to take in a breath but the rosary was snaked around her neck and the beads dug into her skin.
Mari’s fingers clutched at the rosary, trying to pull it from her throat. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she looked toward the mirror to see who or what was attacking her. She choked out a scream when she saw the reflection of a girl that looked like Isabel but Isabel was asleep in front of her! Coal-like eyes gazed back at the woman as she struggled to free herself from its grasp. Slowly the room was growing dim and Mari’s consciousness began to slip before the beads snapped and hit the stone, followed by the sound of the bedroom door opening and a rush of skirts. The girls ran toward Mari to assist her, assaulting her with questions as to what happened.
Mari’s vision returned and she rushed to her feet. Pushing past the ladies, the woman ran for the door, screaming. Isabel finally awoke to the commotion and caught sight of Mari as she left. The girls turned back to look at Isabel who slowly sat up, still in a drug induced haze.
Amy knelt down and picked up the crucifix along with some of the beads, holding them up in her hand, “What happened?”
Isabel and the other girls stared at the pieces of the rosary in her hand and shook their head in silence. Mari never returned, and Isabel was so heartbroken that she had a new rosary made with pieces of Mari’s. From that day onward, she kept it with her at all times.
There were times when Isabel would ask her parents what happened, or if the two had ever heard from her, again. The two would exchange odd looks before changing the subject. It wasn’t until Isabel was sixteen that she’d overheard one of the staff whispering to another that just three days after Mari ran from Isabel’s room, she was found hanging from the rafters of her bedchambers.
Isabel sat on her heels, remembering it all. A year has passed since she’d entered into her service at the abbey. Rolling one of the beads of her rosary between her fingertips, she let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Mari was like a mother to her. Re-living the events was heart-wrenching for her. She was still kneeling before the cross in her room when she began to pray.
There was a sudden, loud banging on her door that snatched her out of her prayers instantaneously. Grabbing the hems of her skirts, she rushed toward the door.
“Who is it?” She whispered loudly.
There was no answer and Isabel’s heart began to play catch up with her breathing. She backed away from the door and ran to the small table beside her bed to grab her candle. Before her fingers could lock around the handle of its base, the banging continued, again. Her spine locked and she grabbed the candle, spinning on a heel to face the door.
“Who—who is it!” she shouted and her voice cracked ever so slightly.
Still, there was no answer. The handle of the door jiggled and Isabel backed up. The noise stopped as sudden as it began, leaving the echoing silence that rang against her ears. Realizing that her jaw was open and hanging there, she closed it, admonishing herself.
“This is ridiculous, Isabel. Answer the d..”
The sound of the door being slammed against from the other side made her rush back to it. Frozen fingers twisted the knob and she threw open the door, expecting for someone to fall inside. A gust of wind followed the opening of the door, but there was nothing and no one there.
Taking a few cautious steps forward, Isabel peeked outside the threshold of the doorway and looked left, then right. Nothing. The entire hallway was empty. She found herself gripping the rosary between white knuckled fingers. Forcing her legs to move, she rushed to the door and slammed it shut. Shaky fingers fumbled with the lock before it slid into place. Once she heard it connect, she ran backwards, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. Her eyes never left it until she saw the glow of candle light grow larger against the wall where she had begun her prayers. The light and the heat grew more intense, forcing her to take her eyes from the door to see what the source of it was.
The small flame of the candle grew to a miniature pyre, reaching higher and higher. Her eyes followed it to the tip until she saw it illuminate the crucifix, again. Blood began to ooze from the wounds of Christ down her wall. Crawling on all fours, Isabel raced to find her rosary. As soon as her fingers got close to it, she was thrown back and pinned to the wall. She tried to cry out for help but something forced her lips shut. Tossing her head to the side, she curled her fingers and pulled at her mouth, trying to break free of her confinement. Her hair slithered up along her chin and began feeding its way into her skin, pushing deeper until it pierced through to the other side. Needling its path, it began to sew the girl’s lips together.
Hours later, Isabel’s mother found her lying there on the floor unconscious. Calling for help, she began lifting from under Isabel’s arms to try and move her onto the bed. Her father was in the hallway with George’s father when they heard the cry for help and ran in to assist her. Isabel’s father, Louis, was furious. It was obvious to him that this was something that had been going on for a while but no one thought to let him know.
“What is wrong with her!” He yelled at his wife.
Undeterred by her husband’s roar, Blanche barked at them to bring the girl to the bed. When they lowered her down, Blanche wrapped her in blankets and dismissed her husband’s wrath. George’s father, John, stepped back while exchanging glances between the two. Sensing the watchful eye, Blanche pointed her gaze toward her husband and forced a smile.
“She is fine, Louis. Very excited for the evening, I believe. The girls have been running around all day getting ready.” Motioning with her eyes quickly at the observer, she masked her anger at her husband’s scene with a smile aimed at John.
“All she’s talked about since this morning is meeting your son, and hoping that he is not disappointed.”
It seemed to work.
John bowed graciously to Blanche, “It is my hope that he finds her to be more than he ever imagined.”
Bowing again, he cut his gaze toward Louis, his frown softening to concern and empathy, “Allow me to take my leave so that you can tend to your daughter. I will see you this evening, yes?”
Louis gave a grateful nod of his head, “Thank you for your assistance, John. Yes, tonight. It shall be a celebration for both our families.”
The families parted ways and half past the hour, Isabel finally awakened. The girls pounced into action, bustling so
chaotically they ran into one another more than once. Isabel tried to sit up but her head began to swim. Her mother reached out to her, holding a cup of water.
“Drink, girl. We need to get you up and ready for the celebration.”
Groaning softly, Isabel took the cup obediently. Taking a sip, she let out a soft, relieved sigh and eased her way out of bed. Within an hour, she was dressed and ready. The girls laughed softly as they surrounded her until her mother chided them.
“Tch! We are ladies, not a gaggle of swallows. You are to walk with immaculate posture, keep your eyes down and chin up.”
To punctuate her commands, she slid her hand toward one of the girls and placed the tip of her fan beneath her chin, giving it a slap. The girl choked back a gasp and went rigid at the spine. Blanche’s face twisted into a cold smile of satisfaction and she turned, opening the door for them to make their way into the ballroom.
There was a soft swishing of satin hems over the thick, cowhide carpets as the procession came into view. The audience who waited expectantly paused and let out a quiet rush of “ohh’s” and “ahh’s”. One by one, the girls entered to their announced names until finally it was the Queen’s turn. From the corner of her mouth, she whispered harshly to Isabel.
“Do not make a fool of me, girl. I’ve worked too hard for this.”
Then just as instantly as the horns began, the Blanche of Castile turned her head and smiled gracefully, then made her grand entrance, walking past the court until she arrived beside her King. Taking her seat, she nodded to the man near the door and he began the announcement for Isabel.