Catherine lay awake in her bed, awaiting the sun…awaiting her fate. Suddenly, her chambers felt so cold, so dark…so empty without Henry. Over the many years, she had become accustomed to living her life without him; that had all been undone in the last two weeks. And now, she was unsure if she could go back to her old, lonely life. She had suffered many disappointments on her road to love…so many broken dreams that still cast a shadow over her. She had fallen in love many years ago…and her punishment had been torturous, unending, unyielding loneliness.
As her mind raced, Catherine could not take her eyes off the lamp in her window. The nuns in Florence had once read her a story that said a lamp lit for a loved one would bring the wayfarer home. She had lit that lamp twenty-two years ago when Henry had first gone into battle. She had never let it dim…never let it go out…hoping it would finally bring him back to her…and it finally had. But now…now that Diane was here, would he spare her a thought?...Would he remember his wife?
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"My lady, your prince is almost at the castle grounds now."
Catherine turned from the window, lamp in hand. She had been waiting with baited breath for his return. "Really?" she asked, filled with hope and happiness.
"Really! They are preparing for his arrival as we speak. The whole palace is in raptures, rejoicing his victory and… What's this, my lady? You are crying? I pray that these tears of joy do not douse the lamp before Prince Henry arrives."
(Catherine) "No power on Earth can put this lamp out…not until he comes back to me."
By the time Catherine arrived at the gates of the palace, Diane had already whisked Henry away to his chambers. Clearly, that woman would try to keep them apart for as long as she can. But Catherine was not willing to wait to meet her husband. They had been apart for ten weeks now, including the two weeks he had taken to leisurely return to the castle…two weeks where Diane had been by his side… and in his bed. Not any more. Catherine was intent on seeing him immediately; she was intent on reclaiming him...but would he want her? Had he forgotten her?
(Henry) "It's my time now. Now, no one can beat me; I am on a winning streak." Henry was boasting to the small crowd of aficionados that had gathered in his chambers when he spotted Catherine entering his room. "Ah! My wife is here now, but even she can't win against me... This is now my destiny."
Catherine rolled her eyes at his arrogance – her husband would never change. "Do you want to bet on that?"
(Diane) "Beware, Henry! Do not gamble against her! She will loot you for all your worth," the woman mocked with a grating laugh. Diane noted the platter – covered by a beautifully embroidered silk kerchief – Catherine carried in her hand. "Catherine, what have you brought with you today?" she asked, reaching for the cover. However, Catherine evaded her prodding hands; she was too quick for Henry's mistress.
(Catherine) "A message…for Henry from the Pope…"
(Diane) "Oh…"
Henry already appeared tired and a bit cranky from the journey and the cackle around him. It was only a matter of time till his infamous temper reared its head. Catherine knew that it would be best to rid him of these hangers-on, and allow him a moment of peace.
(Catherine) "I wish to discuss this matter with him privately," she said, her eyes fixated on Diane. Henry's mistress nodded toward Catherine, acknowledging the latter's cunning, before she slowly slithered out. As Henry's wife, Catherine knew that officially she had the upper hand, but she would have gladly sacrificed that power for his love. If only Henry felt the same…
As the room cleared from Catherine's command, Henry turned toward his desk, fidgeting with his things. Once the door shut behind them, Catherine gingerly pulled out the knitting she had hidden under the silk kerchief, and held it up to Henry's shoulder, checking the measurement.
(Henry) "What brings the Moon down to Earth today?" he asked as he turned and lifted her chin up with a finger.
Though she smiled, Catherine's reassured confidence – or rather, arrogance – did not melt from Henry's flattery. "To take your breath away."
(Henry) "What's this?" he motioned toward the cloth in her hand. "What are you doing?"
(Catherine) "Checking how good my guess was," she said, holding it back up to him.
(Henry) "Accurate?"
(Catherine) "It could never be wrong."
Henry chuckled at their playful banter. "Why? Do you possess some sort of sorcery?"
(Catherine) "Just love – if you can call that sorcery. I know you well now that we have been married for a few years."
(Henry) "Very well. What's in the platter?" he asked, curious about what she had brought him.
(Catherine) "Platter?" She had thoughtlessly replaced the silk cover. What not just play along for a moment? "Oh! The platter – yes, well…it's something for you and me."
(Henry) "I know that, but what is it?"
(Catherine) "An excuse."
(Henry) "Is it some message for me?"
(Catherine) "See for yourself," she urged. Catherine's laugh resonated in the room when Henry lifted the cloth and found nothing underneath.
(Henry) "There's nothing here."
(Catherine) "That's why it's an excuse, silly…for you and me to enjoy some time together."
The platter suddenly clanged to the floor. Henry had thrown it in anger, believing Catherine was mocking him.
(Catherine) "My god! What a temper!" she exclaimed, seeing Henry sulk like a petulant child. "You make a fine example of how to lose one's temper. You still haven't changed!" she gently chided his childishness.
However, that only enraged Henry more. "You haven't changed either," he said, playing with her loose curl, but not meeting her eyes.
Catherine misread his actions as a demonstration of his affection. "I haven't?" she asked with innocence and adoration.
(Henry) "No, you are still that foolish girl from Italy," he spat with contempt.
Catherine's pride had been bruised by Henry's taunt – he could be so cruel sometimes in his arrogance. "Naturally, I would seem like a fool to you now after your conquests on and off the battlefield. I really am a fool waiting for you here as you enjoyed the allures of Paris...What's so special about Paris anyway?" They both knew that Henry was drawn to Paris because of Diane, but neither wished to address that directly.
(Henry) "Paris…Paris is something else…Great personalities, great minds... stimulating discussions, enthralling shows…the art, the architecture, the people. It's a whole other world. Everyone is happy to be there."
(Catherine) "And you?"
(Henry) "Of course! I am happiest when I am there," he responded, still angry at her insolence.
(Catherine) "So, in these ten weeks, you never missed this castle? You never missed being here?" She was more hurt than angry now; Henry's words had stung her.
(Henry) "Not once. Never. Well, except..." he softened seeing her pout. "…when I tired of eating the tasteless food at the battleground, I missed the food here. That's it!...And…and if I made some mistake – big or small – I was reminded of my father…That's it, nothing else… on cold, bleak evenings, I remembered the gaiety and pomp of the palace balls…And on sleepless nights, I remembered the comforts of my chambers…nothing else."
(Catherine) "Henry… and…what about…"
(Henry) "And what?"
(Catherine) "What about me?" she asked hopefully.
(Henry) "Never. Well…maybe once…" He wasn't finished teasing her just yet. "Actually no, you never came to mind, Catherine."
Catherine's brow furrowed from his torment. "Really, Henry? I never came to mind?"
(Henry) "Only things that matter come to mind, Catherine. But you… you don't matter at all."
Catherine's eyes began to well up from sorrow and anger. "You're right, Henry. Only you matter…That's why I would read the one letter you wrote me every hour of every day…Just think, how times did I read it in a week, Henry?"
(Henry) "Uh...uh…" he began, acting as though he were tallying the calculation.
(Catherine) "And how many times in ten weeks?"
(Henry) "Well, if you multiply by…"
(Catherine) "1,680 times. That's how much you matter…You matter so much, that I have kept alive, from the day you left, the flame I lit for your safe return. How many minutes has it been burning, Henry? Do you have any idea?"
(Henry) "If I were to count…"
(Catherine) "100,800 minutes…And you matter so much, that I have thought of you, remembered you every second from the moment you left. How many seconds was that, Henry?"
(Henry) "I know, I know…I'll tell you…," he said as he pretended to count on his fingers.
(Catherine) "You were always so bad at arithmetic." She turned away from him to hide her tears.
Henry wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Pulling her toward him, he tried to soothe her. "There were some times when I missed you."
(Catherine) "When?" she quizzed, her voice wavering with uncertainty.
(Henry) "Whenever I took a breath…whenever my heart beat…"
Catherine let out a relieved laugh as she turned to Henry and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face into his neck as Henry's arms tightened around her.
(Henry) "Catherine…" he whispered, "You remember those who can be forgotten. How nonchalantly you counted off the seconds in which you remembered me... without once thinking that in those passing seconds I was carried further away from you? You never once realized that you may have lit your lamp in love, but I was the one who was burned by its flame."
(Catherine) "Henry…"
(Henry) "Hmm?"
(Catherine) "Promise me you won't leave again, to Paris or anywhere else…"
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100,800 minutes… Ten weeks, 100,800 minutes… she had preserved that flame for millions more since then. And with each minute that it burned bright, she had been consumed by it. Climbing out of her bed, Catherine walked to her treasured lamp searching for solace…for strength…for reassurance…but she found nothing except emptiness in the windswept night that lay outside her window. Her heart, which had been racing these past few weeks, was still…aching to hear his footsteps come through her door once again. It felt as though her life was losing its melody, as though her voice was silenced with defeat. Despite the state of their marriage, Catherine had carried Henry in her heart for all those years. From dusk till dawn, dawn till dusk, his memory had ruled her heart, her mind, her very soul. What if he relinquished her for Diane now?…All that would be lost forever. Why, she lamented…why had he come back to her now? Why had he taken her hand again? Why had he said he was hers? What if, after all that, he left again? Would she be able to wrench him from her heart… again?
This dreary night seemed to last forever, especially without Henry by her side. She knew she could not just forget their past – relics of their heartbreak were scattered around them. Now that Diane was here, their past seemed to have returned with a vengeance. Would she ever find herself in his arms again, Catherine wondered. Would his laughter ever fill her world again? Even with these fears, she was not sure if her love would ever ebb away. She prayed that the bonds they were desperately trying to rebuild were not so fragile that they would shatter again…because this time she would not try to save it.
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"You are going to her house to bring him back yourself, my lady?" Catherine's lady-in-waiting questioned as she dressed Catherine for the ride to Diane's country house. "This is too humiliating!"
Henry had stayed with Diane for a week now. Catherine could not, would not allow him stay there a second longer. She would make the necessary sacrifice, put her pride aside, and go to him.
(Catherine) "Why be embarrassed about retrieving what is mine? I am a married woman; why should I live like a mistress? Why should I wait for his favor when he is my husband…when I have a right to him?" She was determined to bring her husband back – not with rage, but with love; not with tears, but with compassion.
It was well into the night by the time Catherine arrived at her destination. There was a stillness about her - the calm before the storm.
"Halt! Who goes there?" a guard's voice sounded.
Slipping her riding habit off the top of her head, Catherine revealed herself. "I do," she announced resolutely as she floated past him into the house.
Henry had not expected to see Catherine at the other end of the hallway when he slipped out of Diane's room in the middle of the night. He did not know she was coming, and he immediately flew to her. He did not know how he would make his wife understand, how he would contain her rage, how he would send her back. He was expecting her to unleash that famed Medici fury of hers, but as he approached her he found neither anger nor sorrow written on her face.
(Henry) "Catherine, what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Seeing her so calm, worried him – had something awful happened, he wondered. "Why are you here so late at night…in the dark…all alone?"
Instead of responding, Catherine slowly stepped toward him, closing the distance between them. Her lips curled in a loving smile – she appeared at peace, completely calm and serene.
(Henry) "Were you not afraid to come all this way alone?"
(Catherine) "No, I am no longer afraid of anyone or anything."
(Henry) "Not even of being maligned for leaving the castle this late at night?"
(Catherine) "No, when I am with you, I do not care about getting a bad reputation."
(Henry) "Why…why are you here…now?" He searched for answers, but she was unmoved.
(Catherine) "Why does the river flow to the sea? Why does the sunflower always face the sun? And why does your Catherine – unheeding of her dignity, her self-esteem, her honor – venture out in the dark of night to find you? Why do I always seek you? There is but one answer to all these questions, Henry."
(Henry) "There may only be one answer, Catherine, but far too many questions will be asked."
(Catherine) "There will be no questions, Henry, as long as we are together."
(Henry) "I cannot just leave here. I cannot walk out on…"
(Catherine) "I do not ask what you can and cannot do. I ask what do you want to do, Henry…What do you want, Henry?" she asked sincerely.
Henry gently caressed her cheek, "Your happiness…" Her Henry still flickered behind the façade…albeit for a moment. He broke his trance, and added "But it's not that simple, Catherine… Diane will not so easily agree to what we…you…want."
Catherine wrapped an arm around him, resting her head against his chest and laying a hand over his heart. "I am sure you can persuade her…Together, we can win over all of our naysayers."
(Henry) "And what if she does not relent? What if they do not relent?" He wanted to believe her; he wanted to accept her…and yet he hesitated. Why – neither Catherine nor Henry knew really. He was a like a child that did not want to discard any of his toys – stubborn and obtuse.
Catherine brought her hand to his face; looking into his eyes, she tried to show him her honesty. "Where there is love, there is no fear," she said earnestly – her voice soft and gentle.
(Henry) "But where there is smoke, there is fire…and these fires of attrition will consume us both. It is best if we do not destroy ourselves under some pretense or delusion."
(Catherine) "I am doomed in any case, Henry…be it with you or without you…Won't you come back with me?"
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That night it was as though all sense of reasoning had been lost to Henry. He had been left vacillating as if between pendulous scales. He didn't want to abandon Diane in order to make Catherine happy. More importantly, he didn't want to hurt Catherine with empty promises. So, he chose to leave her many questions unanswered; he chose to believe that there never was any love between them – that it was all a childish infatuation.
Looking back, Catherine realized that Henry had been right; she had burned for years at the hands of her cherished love. She had been compelled to go to Diane's house that night – compelled by him, compelled by hope, compelled by her love. But she had returned alone, leaving behind her self-esteem, her husband, and her innocence. She had risked everything for him, and had lost herself in it all. Going there that night had been a test of her love – to see if he valued his wife over his mistress, to see if he returned to her or deserted her. She had vowed to herself that if he chose to reject her, then she would never listen to her heart again.
And yet…she had betrayed herself; she had been unable to control her heart. So, she kept the lamp in her window lit…and waited. As months turned to years, she counted the days till he returned. And when he came back to her, her life was pure bliss…Now she waited again…watching dawn break on a new day, bringing with it a new future.
LinaOso, I don't know about Henry, but I can definitely see Alan van Sprang cooking. So, I figured, I may as well throw that image out there! Glad you liked it! There's going to be more sweetness coming from his once Diane has been properly dealt with!
demedicigirl, I am happy to hear you liked the flashbacks. I am always nervous whether they distract from the story, so it's good to hear that they are appreciated. Sorry you have to wait to find out about Henry and Diane, but it is coming up next!