The Harvest was a beautiful time of year for festivals and we were more determined than ever to enjoy them. Picnic areas were set-up, baskets to be prepared for us daily.

I was particularly looking forward to a plate of sweets I'd spotted with the baskets Catherine had ordered for us. I gathered they were uncommon to the region, but I had tasted them years before and eagerly anticipated the sweetness from taking my first bite.

'I take it you're enjoying those?'

'You should try one. They're absolutely delightful.'

'Go on, then.'

I passed her the plate. She took one but almost instantly made a face and drew back. I was concerned.

'What's wrong?' I asked, taking the plate to sniff.

'There are almonds in this.' She held it up.

'Yes, the coating is made from ground almonds.' I took the piece she offered me.

'I can't eat them. Something about their mere scent turns my stomach.' She wiped her hands. 'Not to worry.'

'You've tried them before?'

'I've never cared to.'

'I admit, I'm surprised. How was I not aware of this?' I asked as we settled in our seats. She lowered her voice.

'Well they are quite rare and the chef is instructed not to use them. I'll have to speak with him about this slip-up.'

'How disappointing.'

'No reason for you not to enjoy them.' She added kindly. 'Have some extra on my behalf.'

She held out another piece to me and I gladly bit into it.

'You're doing it again.' Francis hissed in an aside to Bash. 'You're watching them with that same distrustful expression.'

Bash rolled his eyes.

'Francis, don't misquote my words to fit your own opinion. I never said I don't trust them. Matter of fact, I trust Charity implicitly.'

'What you're suggesting calls into question the very basis of trust with them.' Francis hissed.

'All I've said is that I believe there's truth to what the rumours suggest. That there's something between them.'

Francis sighed in frustration.

'Look at them, Francis. Watch them! I can't fathom how you don't see it.'

'You're taking too much stock by the rumours, Bash.'

'It's not just the rumours. They confirm Charity's feeling for Catherine-'

'Which you already knew about.' Francis glared at him.

'You know why I didn't share that information. Besides, what I'm talking about goes beyond that.'

'Look, I've accepted that Charity has feelings for my mother.' Francis relented.

'You'd have to be blind not to see that.' Bash pointed out.

'But as for anything being returned?'

'Francis, trust me. Watch them, see how they are together, how they behave… even how Catherine looks upon her. I'd be willing to wager it: there's something there, something deeper than just friendship.'

Francis looked at Bash with suspicion.

'Has Charity said something to you? I know you're close.'

'After Catherine, I'm probably the person she's closest to, the one who knows her best. So she doesn't have to. Francis, you know I'm protective of her, I watch over her. I see how they are when they believe no one's watching. There's more than just friendship there.'

'Would you still be so convinced of this if you didn't know of Charity's predilections?'

Bash sighed.

'Francis, you're a wise fellow. I've always known you to be open-minded and accepting of those around you. But you need to ignore that little bit of bias that remains inside you, wanting this not to be true simply because it concerns your mother. The way she relates to Charity, the way they look at each other? Let's not pretend to hide behind the ignorance of the simple-minded. Those are two souls in love.'

Francis watched them, taking note of what he was seeing. He knew Bash wasn't wrong, it was something he'd suspected himself for some time. And Bash was right, he didn't want it to be true.

Not because he minded, but because if he acknowledged this truth he was seeing to be fact, then his mother was heading down a very dangerous path. Adultery with a man was one thing, he didn't even want to think about what the consequences would be, were it to involve a woman.

'I hate you missing out.' I said as I bit into another sweet.

'Hmm. You're doing quite well out of it, though.' Catherine remarked. 'How many is that you've eaten now? Four? I've lost count.'

I laughed guiltily, but it was hard to resist them.

'The staff have really done wanders with the selection this year.' she pointed out.

I nodded my agreement, clearing my throat.

'I do so enjoy these events. With no official royal business to attend to, I can properly relax and enjoy the time with my loved ones.' She smiled, but avoided meeting my gaze.

I tried to return her smile, but something was wrong. It felt as though my throat was slowly tightening. I coughed again, trying to dislodge whatever morsel was causing the problem.

'Is everything alright?' Catherine asked, frowning.

I didn't want to alarm her, but the tightening sensation was spreading and I was now struggling to catch my breath. Something was very wrong.

'I can't breathe. *cough* Catherine… I can't-'

I didn't complete my sentence before my body was gripped in a vice-like pain. I pulled at my corset, a futile attempt as my hands had little strength in them.

Then I collapsed.

'Guards!' Catherine screamed, leaping to cradle me in her arms.

Darkness closed in, the sounds of her panic echoing around me.

Catherine paced outside the infirmary, seemingly for hours, waiting for news. Francis tried to placate her, Henry advised she retire to her chambers until there was news, but she wouldn't hear any of it.

When Nostradamus finally appeared, she practically pounced.

'Well?' she demanded.

'Your Majesty, the news is not good.'

'Is she conscious?' Nostradamus shook his head.

'She was in considerable pain, so I gave her a strong sedative.'

He opened the door and they hurried through. Catherine stopped when she saw me on the bed. Even in the short time since I'd collapsed, my pallor had worsened. She collapsed by my bedside, taking my hands in hers and tried desperately to control her emotions.

'What caused this?'

'She's in a bad way. I'm afraid it was definitely poison.'

'But how is that possible?' She was horrified. 'All our food is checked for poison.'

'Which suggests whoever did this must have added the poison after everything was checked.' Francis noted.

'But I don't understand. Who would do this, to her of all people?'

'To her, I cannot think.' Nostradamus agreed. 'She's very well liked, by all at court.'

'She's always been friendly with everyone.' Francis agreed.

Catherine rose in horror as the realisation dawned on her.

'The poison would have been meant for me. She was just an innocent casualty.'

'Catherine-'

'This is my fault!'

'We don't know who's to blame for this yet.' Bash announced his arrival.

'Do you have any information?' Catherine barked at him.

'Nothing yet. The samples from her plate are with the kitchen. You're sure that's all she ate?'

Catherine nodded.

'Yes and the wine, but we both drank that.'

'Nostradamus, the samples will be brought to you once the kitchen have identified them'

'The sooner I have them, the better. I cannot treat her sufficiently without identifying the poison.'

Catherine had returned to my side. Her eyes were filled with tears, not that she even noticed them. She couldn't take this in. She was used to threats and attempts on her own life, she was even used to others being sacrificed as a result (she didn't like it but as Queen it came with the territory), but the thought of the cost being someone so dear to her…

'Mother?'

Francis tread carefully. My hand in hers, she kissed it with such tenderness. It was a true sign that her emotions were getting the better of her. He and Bash shared a look of concern.

'I don't know who is responsible for this and I don't know how I wronged them.' Her voice was hard.'But if she… if she doesn't survive this, I will find them and I will make them pay.'

To be continued...