I soon found out that it was not just my mind that had been subjected to the aftermath of the abuse. My whole body ached. I walked slower than usual, taking my time to reach Francis and Catherine in the courtyard. There are bruises all over my body. My neck is bruised in the shape of fingerprints, a nice reminder of last nights events. My black dress covers most of them, my hair covers the rest.
As I make my way over to them I stop. There are men lined throughout the walls of the courtyard, in shackles. Protestants. I look at each and every one of them, going down the line one by one. He must be here. They have to be. When I realize that he is not, I become frustrated. Then I here Catherine and Francis a little ways behind me.
"What's Mary doing here?"
"She's looking for her rapist. And if you don't catch him that's what she'll be doing for the rest of her life. In every room and every crowd."
Her words were sharp. Harsh even. Something in her voice sounds unusual. Almost as if for the first time in Francis's life, her anger seems to be directed at him. As is mine, even though we both know he does not deserve it. At least not all of it; however, Catherine's words make me go cold. It's true I'm sure. She would know. She never found closure. Maybe I won't either.
"Mary."
Startled, I turn around. Francis. It's just Francis. Get ahold of yourself, you are the Queen of Scotland and France, not to mention his wife! What is wrong with you? You are stronger than this!
"I'm sorry," he states when I finally face him, "Please come inside."
"He's not here," I blurt out suddenly.
"But all of these men will be questioned and one of them will lead us to him." He sounds so confident. So sure of himself. I wish I could say the same for myself, but I've had enough lies for a lifetime.
"And the other men, too. The ones who stood there and would have done the same to me or worse," I look at him and suddenly realize my mistake. He does not wish to know. To understand what happened.
"Yes," he says slowly. He looks so hurt. Pained. I can't stand for him to look at me this way. No longer am I his and his alone. Another has tarnished me, my soul.
"Mary it would be foolish of me to ask you to try and not think about it but I urge you to get some rest." He makes a small gesture to touch my hands and I recoil. He can't touch me. Please, Lord, let me get over this. I don't want any man to touch me, or to even be near me. It's too hard to bare. It's also inevitable.
"I can't close my eyes without seeing him. Them. The next hours are crucial, every minute that passes makes their capture less likely."
"They won't get away. I will find the men responsible."
My anger is at its peak. How can he remain so calm? So sure of this heinous situation. It makes me sick. Tears of anger threaten to appear.
"They could be miles away by now, I-"
"It doesn't matter where they are Mary, I will hunt them to the ends of the Earth."
I look over to Catherine, who is eyeing us uneasily. Our eyes lock for what seems like an entirety. A whole conversation between the two of us, silently spoke yet understood all the same. She turns to walk away and I panic slightly, my breath hitches and suddenly I realize I need her. I need her presence to keep me sane.
Catherine de' Medici cares only for herself and her children. Don't let her empathy shine through to you as caring. I stopped and watched her walk away.
"I'm going for a ride," I state to my husband as I turn and walk away from him. Unable to look him in the eyes.
"Mary, be careful and don't-"
"Don't go outside the castle walls, yes I think I should know better," I dare not turn around for the fear that tears will fall from my eyes. I cannot shake the feeling that his choices led us here. Led me here.
Riding might not have been the brightest idea I have ever had. I thought the pain was bad before, but now… I need to rest.
My horse and I come to a halt in front of the castle pond. It's beautiful, breathtaking even, but somehow I cannot seem to make myself care. I just stare off into space. I hear hoof beats of in the distance and turn to see if my horse is still near.
"Catherine, what are you doing here?" I question as she gracefully dismounts her horse.
"I thought you might enjoy my company, dear. It's a terrible idea for you to go off alone so soon after…"
"Yes, I know but what more could they take from me now?"
She looks at me sadly. Her eyes glossed over with tears that threaten to fall at any second.
"That's not what I meant," Her eyes break contact with mine. She looks out over the water, almost as if she is searching for something.
"Whether you like to think so or not, I do know how you feel and I am terribly sorry that this happened to you. No woman should ever have to endure what we have been through." Her breath hitches, "After I was raped the first time, I tried to kill myself. Unfortunately, I was not as good at poising as I am now."
The truth behind her words shock me, "Catherine, I'm sorry I didn't…"
"It's quite alright dear, you have nothing to apologize for."
We sit in silence for a few moment. Neither one of us makes a move, we just stand there staring at the pond.
"Does it get any better?" I turn to look at her.
She makes no movement, I can see tears streaming down her face. The cold weather making them move slowly.
"Eventually. But there are day…" she voice hitches, she takes a deep breath to steady herself, "There are days much like this one when my wounds feel as fresh as yours."
"What am I going to do, Catherine?" I'm crying now, like a child would if they lost a toy.
"I… I… don't want… they took my soul, Catherine…"
She wraps her arms around my body, and holds me while I cry uncontrollably. For the first time since my attack, I feel safe. She smells like peppermint. For a moment, just a moment, I feel like everything is going to be okay.
Catherine pulls back and sets me up straight. Her hands on either side of my face, her face inches from mine.
"Mary… you are one of the strongest women that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting." Tears are still streaming down my face, hiccups take over my uncontrollable sobs. She puts her forehead to mine.
"I will get you through this. We are not victims. History is written by the survivors, and we are surely that."