by Maggi Petton
With his own tears falling Father Tim said, simply, “James was a gift and I will miss him.”
Bella gave no indication she heard him, but then, slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were cold, dead. Catherine saw them and shuddered.
The three of them stayed with James’ body until dawn. Bella sat. Catherine worried about Bella. Only Father Tim prayed.
When sunlight streamed through the stained glass window, bathing Bella in a rainbow, she seemed not to notice, but finally said, “I want to find my parents’ graves. They should be somewhere on my husband’s land. Someone must know where they rest. I want James buried beside them.”
Catherine did not try to convince Bella to change her mind, although she was sorely disappointed that Bella would want James so far from them. She would have preferred to bury James here, in the palace cemetery, where she might feel the essence of his spirit close by.
“I’ll have Robert prepare for the journey, my love. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”
But she turned so Bella could not see the hurt in her eyes.
“Princess Sofia to see you, Your Grace,” announced the servant.
The bishop got up from his reading chair and went to the entry himself. “Princess,” he held his arms out and she fell into them crying.
“I am sorry to hear about James,” he said. “I know how much you cared for him.”
The bishop patted her head. “There, there,” he said. “Come in and sit.”
He led her to his sitting area and poured her a cup of wine. She took it gratefully and sipped at it.
“It is a shame about the boy,” the Bishop continued.
“Will he go to hell?” Sofia asked abruptly. She always counted on being able to turn him away from his heretical viewpoints. Now, all she wanted was reassurance that he wasn’t damned.
“Sofia,” he shook his head and answered gravely, “only God can make that determination.”
“But you are God’s emissary here. You know the scriptures and the laws of the Church,” she cried. “Please, I must know he will not burn in hell.”
He took his time to answer her. When he finally did, he said, “Sofia, I was not privy to the boy’s spiritual well being. You know his mother never allowed him to attend Mass here.” He leaned forward in his chair. “And we both know how your mother has always felt about me. I tried, on several occasions, to convince both your mother and the Lady Isabella to bring James to Mass here in the Chapel.”
He watched her face and knew that Sofia believed his every word. “What did they say when you asked?”
“They both refused, they preferred the boy to join them in Castiglione d’ Orcia with that priest they were both so enamored of. They did not even let me Baptize James. They sneaked their priest in to have him Baptized in their quarters.”
“I am so sorry, Your Grace.”
“It is of no matter now. I was quite hurt at the time, but in actuality, I have always been more concerned about their souls than my own feelings.”
“Tell me if you think there is a chance that James is in heaven,” Sofia begged.
“I would if I could, Sofia. I don’t know. If he has believed the lies of the Castiglione d’ Orcia priest, I am afraid for him. But I will pray for James’ soul in earnest.”
Sofia got up from her chair and wandered over to a sideboard along one wall. She had stopped crying, but her anger at her mother for years of refusing to see reason when it came to the bishop and the Church came crashing down on her. She felt it fill her soul and spread its venom into her bones. All these years she tried to help her mother and James through her prayers and supplications. If it weren’t for his mother, and her own, James would be in heaven. Now she couldn’t help him. Her fury built with surprising force within her. It was her mother’s fault that James might go to hell. She struggled under the weight of having the responsibility for the souls of everyone on her shoulders. She slumped, briefly, then, all of the anger she felt about James’s spiritual well being and now his death, in fact, all of the anger she felt, created a horrible rage that unleashed itself within her.
Her mother must pay.
Thomas Capshaw watched Sofia closely. He saw her face transform slowly, from one of grief, to one of anger. He felt his heart quicken. He saw his years of hard work begin the task of completing itself. He did not have to say another word. Her face, so grief stricken, the eyelids puffy, her nose reddened and dripping, lips swollen…all of her features underwent metamorphosis before his very eyes. Her shoulders drew back first, followed by the straightening of her spine, an unfolding from the base all the way up until her head lifted, straight and erect from her neck. Her eyes narrowed, the lids squeezed the last tears out then hardened, displacing the puffiness that had just been there. She held a handkerchief in her hand, but she ignored it, wiping her nose on her sleeve in a gesture so harsh it almost seemed violent. When her sleeve pulled away from her face the nostrils flared. A snort emanated from her nose. The soft, full, sad lips that first greeted him thinned into a single, angry line as he observed the alchemic miracle that filled him with hope. Her jaw clenched. He could see her teeth, and the muscles of her face just in front of her ears, grinding, creating a bubbling, roiling movement that told him he had finally succeeded. She turned to him, and she was not the same weeping, simpering child who entered his quarters a few moments before.
“It is finished,” he thought jubilantly.
Sofia looked at him. “I have a confession to make,” she said with steely resolve. “I fear that my feelings for James may have clouded my thoughts with regard to my duty.” She began to pace before him.
“Whatever do you mean, Princess?”
Sofia’s looked directly into his eyes, the blue of hers intense and determined. “I mean that I have known about the heretical activities of my mother and Lady Isabella, along with James and the Castiglione d’ Orcia priest. I have been hesitant to report anything because I kept hoping that James might see reason and join me here with you.” For the briefest of moments her anguish about James whisked across her face. She banished it and quickly grabbed hold of her anger again.
“I see,” the Bishop got up and turned from her. “I wish you had shared this with me sooner, Sofia. Perhaps I could have helped in some way. Now it is too late for James.”
“Your Grace,” Sofia said. He turned and saw her grim determination. “They cannot be allowed to get away with this. It stops now. In the name of Christ, it stops now.”
“What do you suggest, Princess?”
“I think it is time to call on Captain Bello.”
He raised his eyebrows, attempting to create a look of fear to mask his joy. “Are you certain?”
With the authority of someone born to royalty she glared at him and ordered, “Call for him. I will be in my quarters. Send word to me when he arrives. I will tell him everything he needs to know.”
Sofia left the bishop’s quarters knowing beyond doubt that what she felt was the strength of her faith filling her. God was with her. God’s presence filled her and she knew that the power coursing within her could only be the power of the Almighty. She never felt so strong, so sure, so certain of anything in her life. The words of Christ rose up in her breast, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it.”
She knew that to be true to herself, she needed to be true to her faith. She knew that to follow Christ, she must give up her worldly concerns. She knew that her delay in acting before this moment was cowardice. And now James, the one person she hoped would come to see the light, would burn in hell for all eternity. She would be silent no longer. Her faith demanded that she act now, and without fear. The banner of Christ was before her, and she marched, determined, into the battleground. She was right and she knew, without a doubt, that she made the only decision there was to make.
Chapter Fifty Three
Catherin
e, Bella, Robert and the body of James left the castle early. The morning was foggy. A contingent of servants and a small group of soldiers accompanied them. Bella wanted a small private ceremony and didn’t want a large party to announce any part of her private grief.
Sofia refused to go, claiming she would rather stay and pray for James’s soul in the sanctuary of her own church.
Robert was uneasy about the journey to bury James. He couldn’t explain it, but this trip caused him more anxiety than he had felt for some time. Because of it, he commanded additional men to ride ahead and report back at regular intervals. Whether it was the place to which they journeyed, the vulnerability of the women he swore to protect, or his own grief about James, he would not rest easy until his queen was back in her castle. When they returned, he intended to deal with the murderer, who thus far refused to speak with anyone but the bishop. The bishop denied any knowledge of the man and ignored all requests to see him. Robert felt the bishop was hiding something and wanted to investigate the connection fully.
A wagon carried the coffin. Inside, James’s body was wrapped in muslin cloth. The coffin was draped with the royal colors. A complement of eight soldiers, plus the two forward guards and Robert made the journey. Two servants, one cook and a supply wagon followed.
It was a solemn procession. The soldiers all knew James. Not only was he well liked, but he was respected. He loved to joke with the others, and laughed just as easily when the jokes were about him. His recent state of mind over Teresa made him an easy target for kidding. But he was so much in love that he really didn’t mind the teasing of his compatriots.
James would be missed. Of that there was no doubt.
By late morning they were approaching the granite cliff where, so long ago, Robert and Catherine rescued Isabella. Catherine wondered if Bella had any sense of the place as they drew near.
Catherine thought back on that day as they passed into the shadow of the wall. She watched Bella closely to see if any of the surroundings sparked a memory. But Bella just rode in silence, her head bobbing gently as her horse made its way along the path.
Catherine remembered finding Bella. Sometimes her heart caught as she thought about how different her life would be if they hadn’t happened to hear her that day…if Bella hadn’t been found. Sometimes Catherine was more convinced that it was she who was found and rescued that day. Where the path widened Catherine spurred her horse up to ride alongside of Bella. She reached out to take Bella’s hand. “How are you holding up, love? Do you need to stop and rest?” she asked.
Bella simply shook her head.
The journey to Bella’s former home would take a full day, but Catherine had no idea what to expect when they arrived. It had been years since she stopped asking for information about the estate of Bella’s former husband. All this time and the information revealed nothing about who had been behind the attack on her family.
The forward soldiers were reporting back to the Captain at regular intervals. Once they moved well outside of the villages surrounding the castle there were very few farms or people encountered on the road. They’d seen no one for some time.
Robert was getting restless. It was past the time for the forward guard to report back. He didn’t like that they were bordered to the right and front by dense forest. The granite cliff was well behind them and he didn’t care to have them so vulnerable. There would be no cover for some time. He held up his horse to converse with the Queen.
“I don’t like riding so close to the tree line of the forest, Your Majesty. There would be little time to react should we be attacked from the forest. The foliage is so dense that it is an easy place to hide in waiting. Although it’s off the path, I am moving us to the center of the open meadow.”
Catherine looked around as if seeing where they were for the first time. She’d been so absorbed in her grief that hadn’t even realized where they were for some time. Finally, she said, “I agree. Let’s move to the middle of the meadow.” She had her sword, which she always wore when she travelled, but she never gave a thought to her chain mail, and left without it. If Robert noticed, he didn’t say anything.
Robert ordered the soldiers to bear left into the openness of the plain and returned to the front of the line. They moved through the grasses at a slow pace. He scanned continually for any sign of the forward guard. They were now long past due. As he squinted at the horizon where the meadow and the forest merged in the distance he spotted a horse.
“Hold up!” he ordered. He watched and waited. His whole body was on alert.
Catherine trotted her horse up alongside his and looked ahead to where he was searching. She saw the horse. It appeared rider-less.
“There is an outcropping of rocks,” Catherine pointed to them in the distance. “We can take cover there.”
“Agreed.” Robert turned to his company.
“Corporal, leave the wagon. Take the party to those rocks. Be alert for any danger,” Robert ordered as he spurred his horse forward to head for the horse in the distance.
The company of soldiers acted quickly. Two of them raced for the rocks to determine the safest place among them. The other soldiers surrounded the queen, Isabella and the few servants, and moved them speedily toward the safety of the rocks.
Robert returned a short time later and instantly commanded two of the soldiers to climb atop the rocks to stand watch. The horse he found belonged to the forward guard. He brought it back with him. The guard was nowhere to be found and there was blood on the saddle. The other guard and horse were missing.
For now, they were safest in the rocks, but if night fell, they would be no safer there than in the open or in the forest. They couldn’t wait long before making a decision to move ahead, or return.
Sofia left the Chapel with swollen eyes and a heart heavier than she had ever known. James was her whole history, her world, and she had failed to save his soul before he died. Knowing he would burn forever broke her heart. She spent the morning in the chapel praying for his soul, begging God to blame her for his misguided belief. Her rosary never stopped turning in her hands as she begged for his soul to move from purgatory to heaven, instead of hell. “If only I had been more insistent about him stopping the visits to Castiglione d’ Orcia,” she thought. Then, more sadly, “If only I had told him how I felt.”
Even when he ignored her requests to cease going to Castiglione d’ Orcia, she tried so hard to dislike him, but it was impossible. She could never be angry with him for very long. His charm, his disarming spirit, was impossible to ignore. That he would never torment her again with his teasing was not possible. The boy who held such a special spot in her own mother’s heart would now leave a gaping hole in hers. Regardless of where his soul might rest for eternity, James was dead and she would miss him terribly.
As she left the Chapel, her vision still blurred by her tears, she bumped into Lord Giovanni.
“Your Highness, please forgive me. I didn’t see you,” he apologized.
“You are forgiven,” she managed, “the fault was mine.”
“Princess, you are crying,” he spoke with the tenderness and concern of a father. As he always had with Catherine, he spontaneously wrapped his arms around Sofia. She could not help herself and fell to weeping in the comfort of his arms.
Lord Giovanni led her to a nearby bench and held her as she wept. When she was able to speak again she said, “I don’t know how I can live without him.”
“You and he shared something very special, Princess.” He reached and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I have watched you grow up together, he was more than a friend, he was your brother. We will all miss James, but I know that for you and your mother his loss will be especially painful.”
At the mention of her mother Sofia bristled. Lord Giovanni felt her stiffen and saw the anger flash briefly in her eyes. He knew Catherine and Sofia might comfort each other in the coming months as they struggled with their grief, but only if they could get past their anger.
> “Sofia, your mother loves you so much. What causes you to distrust her so much?” he asked.
“My mother loves much, but she only pretends to love me. She loves James, loved,” she added sadly.
Lord Giovanni took her hands in his, “Princess, you see her love for James because it’s easy to see. He loved her back. It isn’t hard to see love that flows openly between two beings,” he offered. He hesitated before continuing, then smiled and said, “When you were small I had the opportunity to spend a great deal of time with you and your mother. She loved you with an intensity I never observed in her prior to your birth. It was a pure mother love I thought never to see in my queen. It delighted me to see how much she loved you.” He paused. “You delighted in that love, as well, child. You used to adore her, you know.”
Sofia looked at Lord Giovanni as if he were talking of another child and another mother. She didn’t remember ever feeling that way about her mother, and she couldn’t tap memories of her mother ever feeling that way for her.
“Princess,” he continued, “it has been painful for those of us who adore both of you to watch you pull away from her.”
“She brought it on herself,” Sofia said defensively. “How could I continue to love someone who so opposed the teachings of the Church. My faith is the most important thing to me!”
“How is it that you came to believe that your mother opposed the Church?” Lord Giovanni asked gently.
“She can’t tolerate her own bishop. She works against him even though she knows he is the true authority of the Church. He is a representative of God. She cannot tolerate anyone having any kind of authority over her, even God.” Sofia stopped. She had made her point. Even Lord Giovanni would have to agree that her mother detested the bishop. She looked at him with all surety and confidence in her belief.
“Princess Sofia,” he whispered sadly, “there is no more God-fearing or spiritual being than your own mother.” He paused before he continued. “And your information comes, I believe, from the bishop, who has long hated your mother. Listen to me. I have watched that man try to undermine your mother for as long as she has been queen. It is he who has despised her and spread vicious rumors about her in an effort to accuse her of heresy against the church.”