by Leila Snow
“I care, Nate,” Madeline said so quietly he could barely hear her. “And don’t forget, he also killed my husband.”
“Regardless, I now have the king’s command and I will have my revenge,” he bit back, heatedly. “He sends me to Marbourne immediately and a messenger to your father at Alwinsopp. I ride now.” He spun and pulled the door open.
“Be safe!” Madeline bade him as he strode purposefully from the room.
Control thy passions
lest they take vengeance on thee.
~Epictetus
CHAPTER 33
Not a star shone but rather hid, from a night that hung thick and heavy with portent over the countryside. It was an inky blackness in which one could imagine that not another soul existed in the entirety of the universe. As their horses flying hooves tore heavy clumps from the ground, the riders felt the full weight of its intensity.
She was not surprised by the thunderous pounding at her door in those haunted hours in the dead of night. She stood still and silent amongst her pungent herbs, twitching with each thud, whilst the firelight flickered off the melange of vials and bottles covering every available surface. She remained thus as the door finally burst from its hinges, landing with a din as it knocked a flagon of red wine from the table. The vessel smashed to the floor, the garnet liquid within pooled at her feet and the old witch looked down with a shudder to see her own face reflected in its blood-red surface.
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to the two knights who stood silhouetted in the doorway. Behind them she could see their great warhorses, who stomped their huge, shaggy feet and shook their massive heads impatiently as their breath billowed in white clouds into the chill of the night air.
“I have been expecting you,” she rasped resignedly, though she took an involuntary step backwards as their bulk filled the confining space of the shack.
“On this night retribution arrives at your door to put an end to your evil ways,” a voice rumbled from the largest knight as he drew his sword.
The clouded eyes of the witch stared sightless as her gnarled head rolled grotesquely across the floor before being lifted by the hair and shoved unceremoniously into a mouldering grain sack. Her body, they dragged into the night to feed the scavengers that hunted therein. The knights then mounted their steeds clutching their ghastly prize and galloped off into the blackness.
* * *
Not so very many miles away, in significantly more luxurious accommodation, Geoffrey stared out the open window into the cloying murkiness of the nighttide. He shuddered as an ominous shiver vibrated down his spine. Shrugging off his sense of unease, he closed the shutters against the chill and the darkness.
As he turned, he sent a lascivious sneer at the two servant-girls who stood naked and trembling before the dim, red-glow of the fire.
“Get onto the bed,” he sneered as he began to strip off his own garments. Once he had disrobed, he stalked towards them, contemplating the two and wondering which he should have first. He decided on the brunette and made a sharp lunge for her. She squealed in fright and he slapped her hard across the face before pulling her head forcefully down to his straining arousal.
Without warning, the door to the chamber exploded from its frame, crashing violently into the room. The women screamed in surprised alarm whilst Geoffrey spun about, his fist raised at the audacity of the intruder.
A colossal filled the entire doorway, clad in chainmail and leather, only his blue eyes were visible beneath his dark hood. The servants shrieked again and scrambled for their clothing. The giant of a man stepped to the side and beckoned them depart. “By order of the king, you will not breathe a word of this,” he ordered gruffly. They both nodded eagerly, their eyes wide, then departed at a run and without a backward glance.
“How dare you!” Geoffrey screeched, finally finding his voice.
“How dare you?” the man growled low in his throat, pushing the hood from his head. The blonde waves of his hair caught the firelight and Geoffrey immediately recognized Sir Nathaniel, the captain of Lady Madeline’s guard.
“I shall have you killed for this!” he screamed in a fit of rage.
“Nay, you shall never again have the opportunity,” the knight snarled as he raised his shining sword. “In the name of God and the king, I take vengeance for Endle, for Aileth, and for my wee babe,” he bellowed as the gleaming sword swung down in a long, smooth arc.
* * *
Madeline neither slept nor ate for two nights. On the second, she paced relentlessly throughout the long, interminable hours of darkness. The babe woke to eat and then slept again but still Madeline could not find rest for herself. She prayed and begged and pleaded for Nate’s safety and wellbeing, but there was no answer in the obscurity of those midnight hours. Eventually, desperate for the sweet, warm comfort of Nathaniel’s son, she picked him up and settled herself in a chair before the fire whose embers yet glowed. Finally, as she rocked the babe, a gentle peace came upon her and she slept.
* * *
Lord John was already awake and clothed by the time his steward appeared the following morn. “Three knights await you,” the man informed with a bow.
“Where are they?” Madeline’s father asked briskly as he pulled a light cloak about himself.
“I took the liberty of sending them to the dungeons,” the steward replied. “It seemed a clandestine quest they had returned from. Not to mention…” the man fumbled for the appropriate words.
“Well, man? Get on with it,” Lord John grumbled.
“My apologies, my Lord, but they carried two rather unfortunate looking grain sacks,” the steward stammered.
“Ah!” the Lord sighed. “So it is done. I will attend them immediately,” he said as he followed the steward from the room. They traversed the hall silently and then Lord John continued on alone, navigating the narrow stone steps down into the dank depths of the dungeons.
“Have no fear men, we shan’t remain in these squalid accommodations long,” he jested when he saw the three knights leaning against the damp stone walls. His attention was diverted by two brown sacks that lay upon a nearby trestle table. A foul odour emanated from them, and even in the dim light he could see they were darkly stained with a sticky liquid that dripped onto the wood of the table.
He turned up his nose and sneered at the grisly sight. “It is no better than they deserve,” he proclaimed bitterly. “Well done,” he praised the knights. “Nourish yourselves and then get some rest.”
Swiftly, Sir Gareth and Sir Hugh took their leave, weary of the night’s sordid business.
Sir Nathaniel alone remained, staring fixedly at the gruesome bags.
“It is done boy,” Lord John consoled him after a few silent moments. “And though the heart never forgets, it must learn to let go and to live again.”
Nathaniel nodded briefly. “Your reasoning is ever free of error, my Lord,” he said in a hushed voice. Then he also departed the dungeon.
* * *
By the end of the week a messenger had arrived for the king. Madeline saw him as he strode into the great hall during the evening meal. He spoke quickly with the steward who then reported to Edward. Madeline was unable to hear the hushed conversation though she strained her ears desperately.
The king nodded regally, then rose and departed the great hall with Cedric. Madeline could barely sit still upon her seat for the remainder of the meal.
Finally Baron Montagu leaned towards her. “Your unease would indicate your awareness of the matter which has drawn the king from us this eve,” he whispered. “Do you deny it?” he asked pointedly.
“Nay, I do not deny it,” she returned quietly.
“I will not ask the specifics,” the baron surprised her by saying. “I simply ask if it is anything that could affect the king?”
“Rest assured that it will in no way cause any trouble or obstacle for Edward,” she answered.
Montagu narrowed his eyes as he searched her own for their truthfuln
ess. “I believe you,” he confessed eventually. “Let us say no more of the matter.”
Madeline nodded, though the lack of conversation held no effect in keeping the topic from her mind.
At long last the meal ended and she anxiously made her way back to the bedchamber. She was confident in her choice of nurse for Matthias but as yet was uncomfortable with being parted from him for any length of time. Her worries for naught, she found him sound asleep nestled in the woman’s arms.
Madeline took the sleeping babe from the nurse and excused her for the night. She preferred to care for her son on her own. She also suspected the king might visit to apprise her of the circumstances.
She had not been wrong she realised, when not more than an hour later the tapestry was pushed aside and Edward stepped into the room. The babe still asleep in her arms, Madeline didn’t rise from the chair but nodded to him.
“Edward,” she whispered urgently. “What news have you?”
“It is done,” he answered solemnly.
“And my guard?” she asked delicately.
“All well,” he replied succinctly.
“Do they return to me?” she probed, relieved.
“Sir Gareth and Sir Hugh return presently after informing your father. Sir Nathaniel, you will recall, is no longer a member of your guard and I believe he has returned to Cullenthorpe,” he told her gently.
“I see,” Madeline responded, her heart sinking within her. “And my son and I? What shall we do now?”
Edward smiled at her compassionately. “For now you rest, my dear. But in a short while you will be given a new husband.”
Madeline raised her head abruptly and her eyes sought out the king’s. “A husband?” she exclaimed.
“Of course,” Edward said brusquely. “You are yet young. A wealthy widow with a young child. Why would you not marry?”
“Because I do not wish to!” she exclaimed.
“Nonsense,” he uttered. “Who will hold Marbourne until the boy is of age?”
“You said you would appoint yourself his guardian,” she pointed out. “Do you now alter your desire?”
“Madam, you forget yourself,” he growled at her. “My desires and intentions have not changed. Yet someone must manage the guard and daily administration of so great a holding.”
“I will do it,” Madeline insisted.
“My darling,” he scoffed lightly. “Though you are a woman without equal, an estate such as Marbourne needs both a Lord and Lady.”
“I don’t wish to remarry, Edward,” she said softly.
“And I am not eager to lose you, my dear, yet I have already chosen the man,” he divulged. “And he has already agreed to the marriage. The contracts will be signed forthwith.”
“And why wouldn’t he agree to the marriage?” Madeline spat. “You have told me several times what a grand estate Marbourne is and what a wealthy widow I am! I hope you have chosen well for me, Edward,” she sighed bitterly.
She expected his anger but instead saw an understanding glimmer in the young king. “I know what it is to have your fate decided for you at every turn,” he commiserated gently. “Nevertheless, we must do our duty for the ones who are dependant upon us.”
Chastened, she nodded and turned her eyes down to the innocent babe that lay in her arms. “I must have faith in you, sire, and trust you have chosen well for us,” she relented miserably.
“Would you care to know the man’s name?” he asked.
“Nay,” she insisted. “It matters not the name of the man to whom I will be unwillingly joined. Leave me in peace, that I may enjoy this brief respite from reality until it forces its tedium on me.”
Edward frowned but shrugged and nodded his consent. “So be it,” he conceded. “I shall decree that the name of your intended be kept undisclosed until the moment you desire its knowledge.”
* * *
Edward granted Madeline a month before the first banns were posted on the chapel door. She spent the weeks in quiet contemplation and several times just barely managed to refrain from begging him to disclose the name of her intended. Stubbornly, she resisted the urge.
Her mother and father arrived a fortnight before the wedding, when the banns were posted for the second time. She didn’t attend mass with them and when she went privately to pray, she turned her head from the writ nailed to the door of the chapel, desirous not to accept the truth until it was forced upon her.
Moment by moment she wondered where Nate was and why he hadn’t returned to her. His anger at her concealment of Geoffrey’s involvement in Aileth’s death was understandable but she knew it to have been necessary. Even if it meant he never spoke another word to her in this lifetime, it had been worthwhile to protect him from himself. Nevertheless, she mourned him intensely as if he was lost to her, as he most assuredly was, or would be when she married again in less than a week’s time.
We long have knelt
and wept full many a tear.
Yet lo! One hour at last,
the Spring’s compeer,
Flutes softly to us from
some green byway:
Those years, those tears are dead
but only they:
Bless love and hope, true soul;
for we are here.
~Dante Gabriel Rossetti
CHAPTER 34
Fate mocked her yet again. That was the only explanation as to why her second wedding day should dawn as bright and sunny as the first. Inside her soul dwelt a cold, rainy, miserable clime, her every movement heavily laden, almost as heavy as her heart. Right up until this morn, she had hoped and prayed that Nate would come for her, to save her from this women’s fate. But now, the light of day revealed the futility of such a hope. He had finally turned his back on her.
Madeline turned her face from the beautiful blue gown Muriel presented to her. The maid had arrived with the entourage from Alwinsopp and Madeline was grateful for her presence. But the blue of the gown reminded her of the day she had wed Endle. It was a bittersweet memory. She prayed she may be fortunate enough to be bound to a man half as kind as her late husband.
“Nay, I will not wear it,” she stated vehemently.
“But, my Lady, King Edward had it specially commissioned for you,” the maid pleaded.
“It matters not,” Madeline repeated, “I will not wear it, Muriel.”
The maid sighed. “The king will not be happy. What shall you wear in that case?”
“I shall wear the black and red over-gown with the gold embroidery that came in the trunk from Marbourne,” she declared after a short moment.
Muriel put a hand to her throat. “Nay, my Lady. ’Tis not a wedding garment!” she exclaimed.
“Tis for me,” Madeline said, as she turned to stare out the window into the distance. “Black is the colour of melancholy and red the colour of martyrdom, both of which are appropriate for today. Fetch it now, Muriel.”
The maid gulped in horrified silence but ran to do her lady’s bidding, whilst Madeline turned from the window and surveyed wee Matthias who lay gurgling and cooing upon the bed.
“And you,” she said with a smile reserved for her son, “Will you be good for Nurse whilst Mama is gone?” She gave a chuckle that melded into a sob as the babe gave her a gummy lopsided grin. “So like your Papa,” she said. “When you were born I had hoped…” she trailed off. “But, we are never promised happiness in this life. Perhaps in the next,” she sighed.
Muriel arrived with the gown. It was beautifully made and of excellent quality. Stripes of black and red velvet were bordered by intricate patterns of gold-threaded embroidery. Six dozen small pearls were sewn down along the centre seams. Also bordered in pearls were the red velvet, extravagantly embroidered cuffs, whose centrepiece was a large teardrop shaped pearl and from which cascaded long, red silk sleeves.
“It will do,” Madeline nodded as she sat to allow Muriel to plait her hair. The maid wound her hair into two cauls, which she confined in elegant go
lden crispinettes. Each was then held in place by a fine gold band that encircled Madeline’s head like a crown. From this golden circlet she hung a gauzy golden veil.
The maid stepped back and admired her handiwork. “The gold brings out the fire in your hair, my Lady,” she sighed admiringly.
“My thanks, Muriel,” Madeline smiled. “Now help me with this gown. It wouldn’t do for me to be late for my own wedding,” she scoffed half-heartedly.
Finally clothed in the elegant dress, Madeline stepped to kiss her son on the forehead and each of his pudgy cheeks. “Mama will be back soon,” she promised him as the nurse arrived. “Fetch me if he fusses,” she directed the agreeable nurse.
“Aye, I will, my Lady,” the nurse promised. “But I’ll not have any problems with the wee love,” she said affectionately.
Madeline nodded and took a deep breath. Resolutely accepting her future, she stepped out of her chamber door and strode unwaveringly towards her arranged fate.
* * *
Her father and mother met her in the great hall. It was not as grand a procession as her wedding to Endle, though the minstrels struck up a cheery tune and led the way out of the castle. Madeline clung onto her father’s arm for dear life, whilst her mother walked a step behind them in the procession. There was a chapel inside the palace but it was too small for the wedding and as such, they now walked the short distance to the older, but larger chapel in the nearby village.
The walk felt to Madeline as if it were at once a thousand miles and yet only too short. She clutched at the fabric of Lord John’s sleeve until he looked questioningly at her.
“Rest easy, my daughter,” he said soothingly. “Did I do you wrong in your first marriage?” he asked.