Captives: Kingdoms Rule Hearts

  “Her passing was not painful, and at the end she… she seemed ready to go –”

  “Ready?” Catheryn winced at the pain in his voice. “How can you say that – how could she have been ready to go?”

  “I only meant,” Catheryn said quietly, “that she had accepted that it was her time.”

  “Her time, her time,” muttered Fitz, a hint of madness in his voice. “Who are you to say when her time was? Was it Selwyn’s time, when he was slaughtered on a battlefield for a country that he could not protect?”

  Catheryn gasped, but quickly regained her composure. “I know you are lashing out in grief, and so I shall not take offence at your words. I want to give you peace, that is all.”

  “She took my peace with her,” Fitz’s voice cracked, “and left me in this world alone.”

  “You are not alone. I am with you.”

  As soon as the words were said, Catheryn realised that she had made a mistake: she had moved too soon.

  “You?” Fitz stared at her in amazement. “Who are you? What are you? You are just a woman, my lady Catheryn. A noble woman, maybe, and a beautiful woman, I must admit: but you are a prisoner here. You are not my sister, or my friend, to tell me what to do and what to think and how to feel.”

  “That is not my intention!” Catheryn said forcefully. “I only –”

  “What?” Fitz stood up, unable to contain his anger and pain any longer. Every muscle within him was strained, almost at breaking point. “I have ridden day and night three times over to be here, foregoing rest, ignoring food, challenging God in order to be here as my wife lay dying, and what do I find?”

  His voice was so loud now that servants and other members of the household were turning their heads to see what was happening. Ursule was stroking Reginald slowly, staring at Catheryn.

  Catheryn grew hot, and she could feel the blush on her cheeks.

  “Fitz, you are suffering from a great loss, it is natural that you are angry –”

  “Angry?” Fitz’s voice boomed. Orvin, sitting alone and nervous amongst the household that he barely knew, could not believe that his new master could speak so loudly. “Yes, I am angry! I am angry because the woman that I have gone through life with has been taken from me, and no one did anything to stop it!”

  Catheryn could not believe what she was hearing. “Ursule and I did everything that we could!” she cried. “Sometimes the sickness is stronger than we are!”

  “Did you?” Fitz stared at her, something indescribable in his eyes. “Did you really do everything that you could for Adeliza? Despite the fact that you were jealous of her, that you did not like her?”

  “That’s ridiculous, I had great affection for my lady Adeliza –”

  “But more for me.”

  Catheryn’s mouth fell open. A gasp went around the room, but she did not turn to look at them. Her eyes were transfixed on Fitz. The man that he had been, the man that she had known, the man that she had grown to love, was completely gone. In his place stood a skeleton of that man, a mere shadow of his former self. Instead of calm, there was panic. Instead of mercy, there was accusation. And instead of love, there was hate.

  “You wanted me,” Fitz said quietly, but forcefully, “and I told you that we could not be together because I was married. From that moment, Adeliza was merely an obstacle –”

  “That is not true!”

  “An obstacle preventing you from getting what you wanted. And so – what did you do?” Fitz’s eyes were wide now, as though he was trying to see the truth through a dark mist. “Did you not help her, when she fell sick? Did you give her something, something that would prevent her from getting well? Or,” Fitz took a step backwards, away from her, “are the depths of your malice even deeper? Did you… did you make sure that she became sick?”

  “My lord.”

  Catheryn and Fitz turned to look at a young man, with blonde hair, who was standing at the opposite end of the room.

  “My lord, perhaps we should retire. We have had a long journey,” said Orvin, a gentle smile on his face.

  “Quiet!” shouted Fitz. “Who asked for your opinion?”

  Orvin went red, and sat back down. No one else stirred.

  “Fitz,” Catheryn spoke quietly. “I know how you are feeling.”

  “You can’t –”

  “Yes. Yes I can,” Catheryn smiled sadly. “You are not the only one here who has lost a loved one; a husband, a wife; when they least expected it. You are not alone in looking back and wishing that the last farewell had been a warmer one. You are not the first, nor the last, to bemoan God for taking someone so precious. You feel broken now, but you will heal –”

  “I will not.” Fitz’s words had a finality in them that shook Catheryn. “I will never love again, now that you have killed my wife.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Fitz sat in his bed chamber – the room that had held such depth of sorrow over the years. Losing a child at birth had been terrible; but he and Adeliza had borne it. Losing Isabella had been terrible; but he and Adeliza had learned to bear it. But losing Adeliza…

  He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, and flinched as one of his nails caught at his scalp.

  It still did not feel real, this loss. At any moment, he expected Adeliza to walk into the chamber, and berate him for not completing a task that she had asked him to do. Fitz tried to smile at the memories, but they brought nothing but pain. Sharp jagged edges of pain shearing down into his very memories.

  There were few parts of his life that did not contain death – but this, this was beyond anything that he could have expected. Fitz rose heavily, and stared out of the window. The cracked glass needed replacing, but it was still possible to see through it.

  Catheryn was pacing. He had noticed that she always paced when she was angry, or upset. A careful flick of her head kept a tendril of hair out of her eyes.

  Fitz stared at her. Catheryn was beautiful, and gentle, and probably everything that Adeliza was not. But had Fitz ever really noticed the deficiencies of his marriage until Catheryn had wandered into their lives, ordered here by a far off King because a nameless lord could not stand her presence? Before she had entered their lives, had Fitz ever really realised that Adeliza needed to be more, so much more, in order to make him happy?

  Happy. A state that Fitz had not been in for a long time.

  Something warm and wet trickled down by his right ear. Fitz put up his hand, and when he brought it back in front of his eyes, he saw that he was bleeding. The nick in his scalp must have been deeper than he thought.

  Then suddenly, Fitz started. Catheryn had stopped pacing, and was staring up at him. Her eyes were full, and even through the misted glass he could see that tears had fallen down her cheeks.

  He turned away from the window, and sat back down on the bed, in the centre of the room; the room where Adeliza died.

  *

  The moon had waxed and waned, and four weeks had passed: and yet nothing within the home of the FitzOsberns had changed.

  Roger had returned, and brought with him his brother and family. Baby Isabella was now smiling, and yet she received very little attention from her aunt and uncle. Neither could look at her, speak her name, without recalling her namesake. It was painful for them.

  The three siblings were brought together by death, once again, and it was just as painful. When Adeliza was laid to rest, beside her daughter, no person bothered to wipe away their tears. They fell, unhindered, onto their garments and onto ground.

  William had not stayed long. He had attempted to speak to his father, but Fitz had taken to shutting himself away, seeing no one, eating barely enough to keep a child alive. After trying, desperately, to speak with his father about some problems he was having with the local village, William realised that it did not interest Fitz. He had no time for the concerns of the world now: his whole world had been his duty to his family, and now his daughter and his wife had been taken from him.

  T
he parting of the siblings had been watched by Catheryn, and she watched it with sadness. Their words of sorrow barely explained the concerns of their hearts, and in the end, embraces were all that they could manage.

  They reminded Catheryn of her own daughter. An only child now; an orphan, for all the good that her mother was to her. Annis was just as alone in the world as they were, although they did not know it. Why were parents so often ineffectual? Catheryn wondered. Why do we let our children down?

  Catheryn and Ursule had gone through Adeliza’s bed chamber, removing the debris of the sick room to leave it clean, perfect, whole. Fitz had not slept in the room since his return; he had been sleeping in a guest chamber.

  “It is an ill time,” Ursule muttered, and nodded sagely, Reginald wrapped once more around her neck. “He shall not recover from this, mark me.”

  Catheryn’s eyes widened. “He won’t – he won’t die, will he? Do you mean that he will die?”

  “Oh, yes,” Ursule nodded, and then her face broke out into a smile with no warmth in it. “We shall all die at some point, my lady. But Fitz; something inside him, that brings us all life, and joy, and happiness – that part of him is dead. It cannot be brought back to life, and he shall never feel those things again. He lives, yes: but he is not alive.”

  Catheryn shook her head sadly. “It feels like such a waste.”

  “Because you wanted him to feel those things for you?”

  Catheryn stared at her in horror. “What – how could you…?” she stuttered.

  Ursule waved a nonchalant hand. “There is more that I know besides healing the sick.”

  The blush that never seemed far away from Catheryn had blossomed once more on her cheeks.

  “You would never… you would not say anything, would you?” Catheryn had not meant her words to sound so much like a plea, but they did.

  Ursule smiled. “It is not my place to say anything, my lady. What you feel, and decide to do about those feelings, is up to you.”

  The old lady swept out in a flurry of fur, and Catheryn was left alone, standing in the marriage room of the man that she loved, and the woman that she had been publicly accused of killing.

  Catheryn sighed. Her status as a prisoner had not changed, despite the force of death that had passed through the castle. There was nothing for her to do here, except wait for release: to England, or to a much sweeter kingdom.

  Catheryn could not stand there for long, and she soon made her way to the Great Hall. It was empty, and Catheryn breathed easy. The last thing that she wanted was to be amongst people now. Silence, and rest, were all she craved. Settling herself by the window, she shut her eyes, and breathed out deeply.

  “Éadesburg – éadesburg Catheryn,æðelflæde Theoryn, suþa?”

  Catheryn’s eyes snapped open. The blonde man, only a few years older than her own daughter, the man who had tried to get Fitz to rest that dreadful evening when he had returned, was staring at her. She had not even heard him come in.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly in her native tongue. It was almost a relief to be able to wrap her tongue around familiar sounds. “It has been a while since anyone has greeted me by my proper name.”

  The boy – for he was a boy in many ways – turned red, but smiled. He then kneeled, and bowed his head.

  “It is an honour to speak with you, my lady Catheryn,” he said to the rushes on the floor. “I have wished to speak to you many times, and yet it is only now that I have been able to.”

  Catheryn stared at the man, but no spark of recognition hit her.

  “I must apologise,” she said softly, “for I do not believe that I know you. Come closer, and speak with me a while.”

  Although he hesitated, the man did approach her.

  “My name is Orvin, son of Ulfwulf, of the South.”

  “Of the South?” Catheryn’s eyes lit up. “Then in that case –”

  “I knew your husband,” Orvin interrupted. “Or at least, my family did. I am the second son of the eldest daughter of the family where your husband served, before you married him.”

  Catheryn smiled. “It is always good to hear from people of my own country, and you are doubly welcome as a friend of my husband.”

  “He was a good man.”

  Catheryn nodded. “He was one of the best men I ever knew, and I may never truly recover from his terrible loss.”

  Orvin hesitated, and then continued. “My lady, it is not my place to… to pry into the affairs of those that are above me. Yet I am sworn to my lord Fitz, and I cannot help but see that he is unhappy.”

  “Yes, he is,” Catheryn said softly. “But then, losing someone as important as our lady Adeliza, after losing your own child… it is a terrible thing. It is understandable that he is… upset.”

  “I know,” Orvin said quickly. “At least,” he amended, “I have never been married, so I cannot know what it is to lose one’s life companion. But I did lose my mother when I was very young, and the pain of that remains with me. I know what it is to lose someone precious.”

  “Too many of us do.”

  “And yet,” Orvin continued, “I am sworn to my lord Fitz, and as you know him so well, I would ask of you: is there anything you can think of that I can do to bring him relief?”

  Catheryn stared at him. “You… want to know what would make Fitz happy?”

  “He is my lord,” repeated Orvin. “I serve him, but in this case, I do not know how to serve him.”

  Catheryn gazed at him; this young man who had already known such suffering, such pain. He was in a foreign land, with no friends or elders to guide him – and yet his thoughts did not run on how terrible his life had been, but rather how he could make the life of another less terrible.

  “You are a rare breed, Orvin, son of Ulfwulf,” she said slowly, “and if I think of anything that can bring Fitz back to the land of the living, I will tell you.”

  Orvin barely had a chance to reply, his mouth open, before a loud knock was sounded on the Great Hall door.

  “Enter!” Catheryn spoke loudly, unsure as to who it could be. Why would anyone knock on the door?

  A man entered, dressed in thick leather. He had obviously been riding, from the spurs on his boots, and he seemed grateful for the warmth that the castle provided.

  “Welcome, stranger,” Catheryn said, standing up. Orvin rose beside her, but took a humble step backwards. “You are welcome within these walls if you bring peace.”

  “I bring peace,” said the man. His voice was strange; Norman, yes, but with an accent that Catheryn could barely recognise. “I am the bearer of a message, intended for the ears of my lord William FitzOsbern. Is he within?”

  Catheryn turned and smiled at Orvin. “Would you be so good as to fetch my lord Fitz here, Orvin?”

  Her voice was soft, but he heard her. Orvin walked out of the room, leaving Catheryn and the messenger alone.

  “Orvin will fetch my lord FitzOsbern,” Catheryn said formally. “Until he returns, I bid you wait here.”

  “My thanks,” said the messenger, relaxing. “It has been a long journey, and I would welcome a rest.”

  “Have you come far?”

  The messenger stared at her, and hesitated. “What is your name, my lady? My patron is… I do not want all to know that I am here.”

  Catheryn tried not to become irritated. Back home, amongst her own people, all knew her that saw her. Orvin was living proof of that. And yet even messengers questioned her very right to be here.

  “I am Lady Catheryn, daughter of Theoryn, of the South,” she said, much more haughtily than she was happy with, “and I have no wish to pry into the business of your patron.”

  “Ah; the prisoner,” the man smiled. There was no malice there, but he clearly did not consider her important enough to fear any longer. “I have heard of you.”

  Catheryn was spared the indelicacy of replying with rudeness by the door slamming open. Fitz stood in the doorway, and he looked awful.

 
He was still wearing the clothes that Catheryn had seen him wear over a week ago, and if the smell was anything to go by, he had not removed them since that time. His hair was greasy, and there was a stain of something by one corner of his mouth.

  “My lord William FitzOsbern,” the messenger bowed low, his face not betraying the surprise that he felt. “I have come far to deliver a message to you.”

  “Then deliver it.” Fitz walked into the room, and stood by the fire. He had ignored Catheryn completely.

  The messenger hesitated. “I would prefer to deliver it in private, my lord.”

  Fitz shrugged. “We are alone. Deliver your message.”

  The man cast a nervous glance at Catheryn, who smiled wearily. Of course, Fitz no longer counted her as worth paying any attention to.

  “Well… in that case…” said the messenger awkwardly. “I bring you greetings and warm words of friendship from Richilde, daughter of Robert, widow of Baldwin VI of Flanders. Since the sad loss of her husband, which she is sure you will appreciate, she has been protecting the rights of her son, Arnulf, whose uncle has cruelly attacked his succession to Flanders. She knows of your greatness, both of character and with the blade, and she asks that you join her side as her husband in this fight for justice.”

  Catheryn gasped. Fitz did not look round at her. He did not even look at the messenger. He just continued to gaze into the fire.

  “And my lady Richilde’s terms are?”

  Catheryn could not help herself. “Fitz, you cannot seriously be considering –”

  “Quiet!” he barked. “What I consider doing is no business of yours.”

  Fitz turned now to look at the messenger, who looked slightly confused.

  “I repeat,” Fitz said quietly. “What are her terms?”

  “Her terms are but few,” the messenger said quickly. “She asks that the marriage take place within a fortnight, and that you commit yourself and ten men to her son’s cause. She asks that you will fight for him, and for her, and that you will ask King William of England for assistance. She also says that there will be…” here the messenger coloured slightly, but continued on, “…no need to consider any potential children.”