Chapter 9

With a sullen expression on her face, the Queen of France observed her husband, who was shouting orders at his men but occasionally flashed a glance in her direction.
His presence was almost overwhelming, and his sudden concern for her health was as surprising as it was unnerving for her. She even caught herself yearning for his old, selfish self. The man who had threatened her with death in the past without a pang of remorse. That was a behaviour she could deal with.
But not with this intense, nearly suffocating care. She was simply not used to that. His new characteristic trait left her raw and vulnerable, causing her to react harsher than necessary at his efforts.

"His concern for your well-being seems sincere," Florence said, as if she had guessed Catherine's thoughts.
"Neither you nor I should get used to it, even though it's a nice idea. Henry isn't known for his considerateness, nor for his undying love for his wife. Even less for his patience. God alone knows his true motives." The Italian broke off a piece of bread and absent-minded put it into her mouth. All the while never letting her husband out of her sight.

"Maybe he just missed you?" The novice replied with adolescent naivety, which prompted Catherine to laugh out with embitterment.
"Missed me? Certainly not me, but he surely has missed my gold. I assume the Medici's have cut off their financial support. And probably he's fed up with all those issues I used to take care of at court," she said with an unusual hard voice.

For whatever reason should her husband miss the women he never got tired of threatening with death in case she didn't bend to his will? Shortly before she had fled French court, he had considered either getting rid of her by the executioner's Axe or by an annulment of their marriage. A marriage all her children resulted from.

"People change. And sometimes you first have to lose the one thing you love most before you realize it's true value." Florence looked at her with persuasion written all over her pretty face. Catherine couldn't bring herself to destroy the girl's illusions with the power of the gruesome reality of her life.
"We will see, child," she therefore murmured as neutral as possible.

Henry chose this moment to rush at her, taking big, confident strides. This time he was only holding the reigns his own horse in his hand.
"See, that didn't take him long, did it?" Catherine whispered and rose before her husband could reach her.
"Is it time to finally move on?" she asked him and brushed the dirt off her skirts.
"Yes, are you ready?"

Instead of giving him a direct answer, she just nodded.
"Then come here," Henry requested, but Catherine just stared at him in confusion and didn't move a muscle. Her reaction prompted him to sigh heavily, before Henry stepped around her and grabbed her around the waist. At no notice at all he lifted his wife onto the saddle of his stallion.
"Henry," Catherine shouted, but the King of France deliberately ignored her protest and mounted his horse behind her.
"What are you doing? I have my own horse!"
"For the rest of the day you will ride with me", Henry explained succinctly and spurred his stallion.

Shocked by this sudden start, Catherine clung to the knob of the saddle with her right hand. At the same time, however, Henry's muscular arm wrapped itself around her body to support her further.
"Henry, I insist you let me down this instant," the Queen of France demanded indignantly, putting a particular strictness into her voice. But her words only provoked her husband to tighten his grip.

"No!" Henry's deep baritone was so close to her ear that his hot breath grazed her neck. "As long as I have the feeling that you are incapable of riding your own horse healthwise, you will ride with me. I happen to care about you and I will not risk you falling off your horse and breaking your neck. Now hold still and stop being so difficult, would you?"

In her despair, Catherine turned around to look at him, but she could see nothing but wild determination on his angular face.
"Do you enjoy humiliating me?" She spat at him and tried to enlarge the distance between their bodies. But Henry only needed one powerful jolt to pull her back against his hard and masculine chest.
"No, Catherine. I'm just trying to protect you from your damn Medici pride. Because even though you're trying very hard to hide it from me, I've noticed that your left arm has been more affected by that poison than you want me to know. And we are going to discuss this subject. Later."

They had reached the soldiers and since most of the men were looking at them, awaiting Henry's sign for their departure, Catherine swallowed the snarky response that lay on the top of her tongue. At least for the moment.
"We're leaving," Henry informed his troop and trotted off at a brisk pace.

Catherine hated him for imposing his will on her. But not as much as he hated herself for feeling safe and secure in his arms despite her anger.

The following hours of their ride expanded to a tenacious mass of endless minutes. The fact that Catherine's back was snugly pressed against Henry's chest was unnerving and his stallion's smooth movements seemed to push her harder against his body, which was making matters worse.

His masculine, musky scent surrounded her, enveloping her into a cloud of sweet memories. Memories of a time long gone when she had taken the nearness of his body for granted. At that time his nearness had been everything she could ever ask for. It had brought her peace of mind and happiness. Apart from other, more sinful pleasures.
Now, however, it only illustrated her uncertain future.

Even though Henry was unusually considerate and endearing, Catherine was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for his true motives to come to light.
"Are you feeling all right?" His question came rather unexpected and caused her even more confusion.
"Why do you care? It's not like my opinion would be of any importance for you."

She knew that she was outwearing his patience with every snappish answer she threw his way. It wouldn't take long before Henry was going to lose his false composure and explode. Basically, she was waiting for that moment.
For she was able to deal with an angry Henry, but not with the unsettling illusion of an overly worried husband.

"I have asked you about your state of health, not your opinion, Catherine. Your opinion I never have to ask about, since you have the tendency of announcing it loud and clear, in the majority of cases even unasked. What I want to know is: Are you in pain?"

She didn't know if it was his tone, his choice of words or the question in general that made her turn her upper body around and yell at him in anger.
"I'm always in pain, Henry! Every damn day. When I wake up, when I fall asleep and every second in between. So please refrain from asking me ever again if I'm in pain!"
Her unexpected outburst frightened the both of them equally.

For the fraction of a second Catherine felt the grip around her body's center slacken, then it increasing more than ever. At that moment she regretted giving Henry such an intimate and honest insight into her state of health.

She didn't want him to know how bad her actual condition was, how useless her left arm has become and how painful her mere existence nowadays was. She was also ashamed to admit her weakness out loud and most of all in front of her husband.

"I'm sure Nostradamus will have some potion that will bring you some relief as soon as we're back. He may even be able to cure the poisoning." While Henry spoke with a calm and prudent tone, his hand stroked her waist in a comforting way.
Surprised by his sensitivity and the tenderness of this gesture, she didn't push his hand away but rather drew strength from his affectionate touch. A touch she actually enjoyed against her expectations and in spite of her suspiciousness.

"There's only one thing I'd like you to promise me, Catherine. Let me know if your pain becomes unbearable. In that case we're going to make a break and the nun can take care of your arm." His sincere request for her admission broke her inner resistance.
"Allright, Henry," she agreed quietly and felt her husband breathe a sigh of relief. Then, completely unexpectedly, Henry place a tender kiss on the nape of her neck.
"Thank you. Can you manage another hour or two?"
They both knew what her answer to his question would be. So she just nodded.

This time she didn't feel uneasy when she leaned back against her husband's broad chest and for the first time since Henry's men had dragged her from the convent, Catherine de Medici was able to relax her anguished body at least a bit.

Henry, who seemed to feel the change in her posture, adjusted her position so that her head could rest on his shoulder. He didn't say another word, he just made sure that she was sitting as comfortable as possible in front of him.

Another weekend – another chapter.
I have a confession to make: I always wanted to force them to ride together on one horse. I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing this scene.

And many thanks for your wonderful reviews.