Hello all, and welcome back to another couple of Chapters of "As Loyalty Dies". I hope you enjoy reading more of Marion's story. Thank you for reading, and for a follower! Please leave a review, let me know what you thought, or what else you'd like to see with this story.
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – YORK CITY, APRIL 1480
"It never ceases to amaze me that I am back here," Kate said, as she and Marion sipped at goblets of spiced wine.
The weather was slowly growing warmer, and flowers had come to bloom, and Kate's belly was again beginning to swell. She awaited the coming of this child with fervent anticipation, her first trueborn child, the first child of her three-year marriage to James Haute.
"I know," Marion said presently. "It must be strange after so many years in Leicester."
"Yes," Kate nodded, smiling. "Now things can be good again. There will be no more scandal, people will not hiss or spit at me when I walk down the street – not now that I have a ring on my finger."
The ring. It was always about the thin gold band on her finger, and what it signified. Kate's life was now consumed with the duties of a wife, duties that she did without hesitation – even helping to cook a meal. As for the title of "wife", it was one she flaunted with pride, to regain what dignity she had lost when Katheryn was born. It seemed to Marion that her sister had conveniently forgotten about the time James Haute had beaten her almost to death, breaking a rib. But no matter, as long as she was a wife and happy.
It was not that Kate did not love Katheryn or Marion; it was a simple fact that she took her vows seriously at all times. "Obey thy husband," she had promised to do; whenever James Huate told Kate not to acknowledge her daughter or sister, she obeyed. When he told her to set them the chores of servants, she grudgingly obeyed. Not that either girl minded. This treatment meant that they could spend more time at Middleham, a place they would be welcomed to, no matter what. And although Kate's behavior was strange to Marion, one thing was clear; where Dickon had simply honour enough for a thousand men, James Haute had barely enough for himself.
Marion sighed, tilting her own head back to smell the warmth of spring, the slight perfume of flowers in the air. If James Huate tried anything again to hurt her niece, or even Marion herself, she would be ready. Smiling slightly, Marion curled her right hand into a fist, angled at just the right position for a good punch. Just as Dickon had taught her. He did have honour enough indeed, if he to teach her to fight for those she loved.
"Look at this! It's ruined!"
"It was an accident, my love, children make mistakes!"
Marion held her niece close to her, slightly behind, shielding her, as she had done the first time they had been involved in a confrontation with James Haute. Katheryn shook like a leaf in a gale as Marion held her hand ready, steady, watching the angry man stalk around the thin hallway. She eyed up an opportunity to strike, should she need to. Kathryn had been readying herself for bed, it seemed, and while carrying a wash basin filled with cool water to her bedchamber, had tripped and fallen into her stepfather. Marion had come running as soon as she heard the raised voices, James's menacing and loud, Katheryn's shrill, laced with terror. Now the two stood, huddled in the doorway of Katheryn's chamber, while Kate tried to defuse the situation. Her efforts were in vain, for James continued to rant, gesturing to his night-shirt, which was soaked through at the front.
"Why do you defend them, wife? Why do you condone the baseless opinions of baseborn girls, and defy me – the husband you vowed to obey?"
"Because one of them is my daughter, the other, my sister. Both are my kin!"
"It matters not," he huffed, his eyes lingering on the swell of Kate's belly. "Soon, you will have another child to think of; and remember, I am the Queen's kinsman. You are related to Her Grace Queen Elizabeth Woodville through me. Why then, would you care for these wretches?"
Indeed, sister, why would you care for us? Mayhap it is because I can think of nothing worse than being kin to that icy Queen... Marion thought dully.
Presently, Kate spoke, not looking at anyone as she did so. "Marion, take Katheryn into her chambers, and stay there with her. I will come later to speak with you."
"Aye, Kate" Marion said, taking her niece by the soft, warm hand and leading her to her chambers. Once they were alone, and Marion had bolted the door, Katheryn let out a cry of such anguish, it broke her aunt's heart.
"Oh, why are we so hated? Why must we be blamed for the sins of others? Oh, why did Father even...!"
"Katheryn Plantagenet! Did you just wonder as to why you do exist? Shame on you, girl! May God have mercy on your soul for such musings! You cannot change the past, so 'tis folly to wish to do so. No, just because one man may spite you because of a sin you did not commit, does not mean you should fall into despair! See, for the one who does not love you, think on all those who do. Your father, Lady Anne, your brothers, Lord Lovell, myself... and your mother. I did tell you this years ago, when your mother married. Have you forgotten my lesson so soon? None of this is your fault, Katheryn, you must not hate yourself for being alive. Never."
Katheryn hastily wiped away her pitiful tears, before wrapping the older girl in a fierce hug.
"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, thank God for you, Aunt Marion!"
Their tender moment was broken by a tapping on the door, and the sound of Kate's muffled voice on the other side.
"Marion? Katheryn? Let me in, please."
Marion disentangled herself from the dark-haired girl, and hastened to open the door. The aged wood groaned in protest as Marion pulled the door towards herself, revealing Kate standing on the threshold. As soon as Kate's pale blue eyes locked on the indigo ones of her firstborn, she rushed past Marion, opening her arms. Katheryn jumped into the embrace, not crying, not saying a word. It seemed to Marion that her niece was simply content with being held in her mother's arms.
Alas, Marion thought bitterly. Such displays of affection are rare nowadays.
"Girls," Kate spoke, breaking the heavy silence. "Would you like to return to Middleham on the morrow?"
"Aye, Kate."
"Yes please, Mother."
Kate breathed a heavy, shuddering sigh, running her fingers through Kathryn's messy curls. Pulling away, she nodded, her eyes distant, hazy with an emotion Marion could not place. With her nod, it was settled.
To be roused from sleep after only resting a night after a long journey is never pleasant and is usually a situation that many a man or woman looks upon with dread. Marion, alas, found herself in such a situation the morning after she and Katheryn had returned to Middleham. Weak dawn light spilled through the heavy-set window of her bedchamber, as she became aware of pressure on her bed, and the dim sound of giggling. Struggling to sit up, Marion's blurred just-woken eyes were assaulted by four faces, and small wads of dust floating through the air from her newly pulled bed curtains. There was Katheryn, the dark-haired beauty who looked more like her mother every day. Beside her, Neddy, who was a perfect mix of his parents, now a boy of seven; John, the spitting image of his father, a sweet boy, yet also somber. Finally there was Eddie, possessing what Marion remembered of his father's smile, lacking all its cruelty, his simple mind lighted by the most trivial of things. Such as feast days. Like today. All looked to her with bright, eager, eyes.
"She's awake!" crowed Neddy.
"Of course she's awake. We jumped onto her bed and laughed too loud." countered John.
"Well, this was your idea, I wished to have no part in waking Aunt Marion." Katheryn stated primly.
"But you agreed!" Eddie protested, his hands balling into fists, scrunching up Marion's furs. Then, his pout vanished, and a pleading look fell over his face. "Can you tell us a story?"
"And you were laughing too," finished Neddy. "And yes, a story, please Aunt Marion?"
Marion laughed at the children's antics, rolling onto her belly, where a now familiar ache was beginning to build.
Oh, I hate being a woman, came the bitter thought. Then, suddenly -
"Children!" came Lady Anne's voice. "Come along now, and leave your aunt be. All of you must get ready for Mass."
"Yes Mama," grumbled Neddy, scrambling off the bed.
"Yes Aunty," Eddie followed suit of his cousin.
"Yes Lady Anne," the other children chorused, shuffling out the door, Katheryn turning left instead of right, making Marion think she was off to find Maggie.
"Wait!" Marion called after the children's retreating forms. "What story did you want me to tell?"
"The Easter story, please?" John asked, poking his head back through the door.
"Of course, after Mass."
"Yes!" the boy whooped, running off to find the other children.
Marion looked to her savior and smiled. Lady Anne smiled back. When all the children were gone, the Lady called in a maid – Margaret the woman Marion had known as a child at Middleham – to help her dress. Marion groaned, trying in vain to pull her furs up over her head, to hide – as childish as that was. She did not need help dressing – she would not need it at all, if she was not forced to wear overly extravagant gowns and fiddly under garments that made movement difficult and breathing nearly impossible. But she had to wear those horrendous clothes because according to the law, she was now a lady – and had been since her marriage – and ladies had to look nice; especially when going to a Mass as important as this.
Despite her attempt at hiding, Margaret still came, and found her, clucking her tongue as she did so.
"You are no longer a child, m'lady." she said, as she wrapped Marion's chest in yards of cotton cloth, before finishing the binding by tying the cloth at Marion's back. Marion gasped. Too tight, it was too tight! She gasped, struggling to draw breath.
"I know," she wheezed.
"And you will soon join your lord husband – since you have had your blood. Time is running out, Marion, so you must make the most of it and act the lady – and the princess – that you are."
Ah, there it was. There was the speech Marion so loved from Margaret. It was the way one spoke to a friend, or an apprentice, not how one would speak to a highborn lady. It put Marion in mind of her early childhood at Middleham, before Kate had met Dickon, and the lives of the Morton sisters had been turned upside down. Taking full advantage of this sudden jolt back in time, Marion smiled at Margaret.
"Of course, Margaret, you do speak the truth."
The woman nodded, before she continued to dress her charge. Marion sighed, enduring the dressing, wishing with all her might that she was not a lady. She should be doing the same jobs as Margaret, not having them done to her. The time it took to dress went far longer than Marion would have liked, but eventually she found herself in a bright blue gown, gold embroidery decorating the square neckline, matching perfectly the belt slung around her hips. Her hair had been braided and wrapped in a net to secure it, before her usual wimple was draped atop her head. Now dressed and ready, Marion and Margaret made their way down to chapel, for Easter Sunday Mass – one of those wonderful, and rare happy days on the Church's calendar.
Mass was boring, but not as long or fear-inducing as some, and before Marion knew it, the bells tolled and she was walking with the children back to the main castle. All around her men were returning to work. From the yard a shout went up and the young knights-in-training resumed their lessons in sword and lance. Marion caught John shooting the yard a wistful look as they passed.
Upon entering the Great Hall and breaking their fasts, the children renewed their demands for the Easter story. Marion happily obliged and, in between mouthfuls of berries and currents and cheese and bread, told them the story as best she knew it. Afterward, the children were entertained by chasing dyed eggs down a hill – whomever caught the first egg was the winner. Marion looked on in amusement, keeping close behind the group, as their happy shrieks and laughter could be heard, swept up by the breeze.