Chapter 16

The feeling of unbridled relief washed over Catherine for finally having her children back – safe and sound. But this feeling was overshadowed by fear of having missed out on essential moments in their still so very young lives. She hugged Hercule, Margot and Henri who were cuddling up to her on the settee, all the while attentively listening to Charles' tales about his first hunting party.
Notwithstanding, the Queen of France was struggling with her emotions. They threatened to overrun her like a gigantic wave, disposed to drown her. While fighting these emotions, she could feel moisture accumulating in the corner of her eyes. Catherine blinked back the tears in determination, unwilling to lose her composure. Not in front of her husband and certainly not in front of her children. During the last six months she had already distressed her little ones more than enough. They shouldn't have to witness their mother's mental breakdown as well.

When Catherine let her gaze wander over to the farthest corner of the room, over to where Francis and Mary were standing, her attention was distracted by Henry, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, expressing unnatural self-effacement. It seemed as if he was watching over her from a safe distance. Relaxed but still determined to intervene, should he consider it necessary.
When he noticed her gaze, a wide smile lay itself over his lips and Catherine thought she recognized a familiar sparkle in his eyes.

Feeling embarrassed at being caught staring, Catherine turned her head, looking at her eldest son instead, who was whispering with Mary, the Queen of Scots. Even though she knew that the two had entered into the bond of wedlock meanwhile, yet she was still surprised at how close they seemed to be. It wasn't their touches - the way their hands kept on finding each other - or how close they were standing that gave off this impression, but the non-verbal communication between them. As if they were reading each other's minds. Francis looked deeply into his wife's eyes and reached for her hand to squeeze it. With a nearly undiscernible movement Catherine noticed him pointing his chin in her direction while Mary nodded in agreement. They shared another smile, then Francis turned around and went over to his younger siblings.

"If I remember correctly, today is the official bathing day for little princes and princesses."
His words ignited a storm of protest among his siblings, who were clinging at their mother, nearly crushing Catherine, not willing to leave her.
"That's not true!" Henri protested loudly.
"Well, I think Francis is right." Mary objected, who was also approaching the children and buried her noses into the blonde boy's neck. "Oh, it definitely smells like bathing day."
Francis followed her example and exaggeratedly sniffed at Charles, who tried to shun his brother with a giggle.

Catherine followed their example and buried her nose deeply into Margot's curls. But she could smell nothing unpleasant, only her sweet little-girl scent. A scent she had terribly missed. Nevertheless, she played along until Francis and Mary started driving her children towards the bathing chamber. She felt her heart swell with love while listening to their frolicsome laughter and screams.

"You look very happy," Henry told her softly once they were alone. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the settee.
"I AM happy," Catherine admitted and graced her husband with an honest, yet very tired smile.
Henry contentedly nodded and stroked her cheek with his thumb.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You must be exhausted, but before we call it a night, I first want a doctor - or Nostradamus for all I care – to take a look at your arm. Allright, my love?"
Catherine could tell by the tone of his voice alone that this was not an order but a question.
That's why she agreed with a short nod of her head.
She didn't know what she was hoping for in the first place. After all, the women in the convent had done everything within their human power. But there was still this tiny sparkle of hope that had failed to extinct.
Maybe – against her better knowledge - Nostradamus would be able to perform one of his miracles.

But the thought of confronting her seer frightened her. The little plant called hope that Henry had sown in her heart and that he had watered constantly, was still frail and fragile and Catherine was afraid that the cold truth would cause it to wither. During the last days she had clung to the thought that once they had returned to court, Nostradamus would be able to find a way to heal her.
What if he couldn't?
What if she was condemned to a life as a cripple?
How long would she be able to hide her handicap?
The very idea of being exposed to the pitiful stares of the entire court society for the rest of her life made her shudder.

"Catherine, are you all right?" Henry's voice was close to her ear, pulling her from her dark thoughts. He was wearing a worried expression while watching her carefully.
"Yes, let's go." Cathrine rose with mechanical slowness. No matter how much she feared Nostradamus' diagnosis, she knew this visit was inevitable. And the sooner she had clarity over her actual state of health, the sooner she could begin to come to terms with her fate. And with Henry.

Ignoring the hand her husband offered, Catherine rose and left the parlor. With Henry hard on her heels, the Queen of France set out for Nostradamus premises.

In the past she had hurried along this corridor numberless times before, she could not even count how often she had visited her seer in the vaults of the castle where he lived and worked. But never before had this stretch of way seemed so long. Henry's presence and the nervousness he exuded didn't make it any easier for her.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Catherine entered her healer's chamber after a moment's hesitation. Her entry prompted the bearded man to turn around. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his Queen and mistress. It took him a second or two to pull himself together, but then he dropped the pestle he had been using to pound herbs and walked over to her.
"Your Grace, you're back." In addition to his amazement, Catherine could hear real joy and affection coming from his words and she ran towards her friend. A second later, his large arms pulled her into a big hug.

"My dear old friend," she whispered once they separated and suddenly she was very aware of his eyes, that were attentively taking in her appearance and that finally came to rest on her left arm.
"You've been poisoned, haven't you? I should have known. What happened?" Nostradamus asked her bluntly. With a barely perceptible nod of his head, her seer asked for her permission to push up her sleeve. Catherine just nodded.
Nostradamus started examining her arm, listening to Catherine summarize the events that had led to her injury. During all this, Henry stayed at her side, adding a comment here and there when he thought that she had left out an important part of her story and did his very best to stand in the way. When both the Queen and Nostradamus had enough of his exaggerated concern, Catherine sent him away. She could tell by the pleading way Henry was looking at her, how reluctant he was leaving her, yet she insisted. Once her husband had left the room, the Queen of France breathed a sigh of relief.
"He crushes me with his care," Catherine told Nostradamus, whose gaze was still directed at the entrance where Henry had disappeared.
"In fact, I have rarely seen his Majesty more worried about you than today. But it looks like you are not happy with this situation," her seer dared to vocalize his thoughts.
Over the last decade, she had not seldom taken him into her confidence regarding the state of her marriage, complaining about her insensitive, adulterous husband, and now, when Henry was worried sick about her well-being, she obviously did not like it either.

"To pay respect to the truth: I don't know what to think about it. It's complicated." For lack of a satisfying explanation, Catherine sighed theatrically.
"When is it ever not complicated between Henry and you?"
Nostradamus' words provoked the Queen of France to roll her eyes in annoyance. But her friend was right.
"Enough of this. Can you determine what kind of poison I've been exposed to?" Catherine deliberately broached another subject to distract herself from her mental dilemma.

"It's a strong neurotoxin, without doubt. But in order to determine the exact nature of this poison, I need more information. And some of your blood." Catherine nodded in resignation. Even if she abhorred blood-letting, at least she knew that Nostradamus' methods - even though they were considered controversial in many places - currently offered her biggest chance for being cured. Besides, she was sure that her bearded friend already had an idea about what kind of poison it was that was raging through her veins, even if he still refrained from making a conjecture at this particular time.
Thus she willingly let herself be led to the back of the chamber and took a seat on the treatment table.
"Tell me again how it happened. Don't leave anything out, every detail, no matter how small, could be of importance," Nostradamus instructed her and measured Catherine's heart rate and pulse. "Under normal circumstances, I would never bleed you in your current condition. A small amount of your blood will have to do." Nostradamus explained and applied a tourniquet on her right upper arm.

Catherine tried to recall more details of her attack, but the fragments of her memory from that day were incoherent at best and of shadowy substance. Her seer gave her all the time she needed and did not pressure her. With stoic calmness he disinfected the inside of her elbow, then he pressed his surgical knife against her skin. When a crimson red trickle of blood welled out from under the blade, Catherine did not avert her gaze but rather watched her blood drip down into the basin Nostradamus was holding.
"He has left me there to die. I did not realize it at first. My injuries were painful but not fatal." Catherine paused for a second, still looking at the spot where her blood was seeping out. "His blade must have been poisoned. I was supposed to die a cruel and lonely death," she murmured, wondering why she had never questioned how exactly she had come into contact with that poison.

The unbearable pain had caused her to lose consciousness and she had only come to her senses in the convent weeks later. For reasons of self-protection she had not dared to ask herself the question of what exactly had happened to her after she had fainted. She had more important things to worry about at that time. Her survival, for example.
She had thought that some poisonous substance had been instilled into her. Something that had also come into contact with her wound. But a willful attack with a poisoned blade seemed more realistic now.

"That's it," Nostradamus declared and put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.
But when Catherine was about to get up, her friend gently pushed her back onto the bench. "Please wait a minute. Catherine, I am unduly glad that these bastards didn't succeed in killing you. Allow me to be honest with you. At this early stage I can't promise you anything. But believe me, I will do everything in my power to heal you. I could curb the pain with laudanum. The risk of becoming dependent is not to be underestimated. A weaker mixture however..."
Catherine interrupted Nostradamus.
"I'll take the weaker mixture."
Though she longed for relief, she was not willing to accept an addiction on top of her handicap. Besides, she had become accustomed to the permanent pain.

Nostradamus nodded with a serious expression on his face. Silently accepting her choice and handing her a small bottle with a brownish liquid.
"Take this only after supper, or it will affect your stomach. I can only advise you to have regular meals and to get plenty of rest. You need to give your body a break. You're still recovering. And this…" Nostradamus reached across his work table and handed her a second vial. "…will strengthen your immune system."
The tall man circled the table and smelled at some of the crucible and herbs. "Before going to sleep, I will have them bring you a decoction of herb poultice. Apply it to your arm generously. And I want to see you every day."
He didn't need to say it out loud, one look at his serious face was enough to make Catherine realize that her seer was genuinely concerned about her.

She acknowledged his instructions with a short nod and rose.
But instead of leaving, she went over to Nostradamus, who went on to crush his herbs. Herbs that were very likely intended to be used for her poultice.

"According to Henry, the prophecy has changed. To what extent?"
Her question prompted the tall man to drive around to face her. For a moment, she feared that Henry might have lied just to put her at ease.
"That's true. I no longer see Francis' death. The focus of my visions has changed. It no longer is directed at Francis, but on the Red and the White Queen. These new visions started shortly after your disappearance."
His words left Catherine gasping for breath.
"You mean it's possible that my return will undo the changes you have seen? What if the decisive factor is my absence? I can't possibly stay if that means..." Catherine felt cold panic reaching for her heart that threatened to paralyze her with fear.

"I'm inclined to doubt that. There are too many visions. New visions. The interaction of the two Queens is the decisive factor." Nostradamus approached her and with greatest care he took her injured arm. Then she saw recognition flickering up in his eyes. "You, Your Grace, are the Red Queen. Petrified by the poison of a snake."
His words caused Catherine to swallow hard.
"You think that snake venom might be responsible for this?" she asked cautiously.
"That's possible, but it could also have a metaphorical meaning. And it's connected to another vision I've had a few days later."
"What kind of vision?"
"I saw the Red Queen."
"You saw me?"
"No, not you exactly. I rather saw her like a piece of a chess game. A scarlet Queen. Standing right in the middle of a sea of snakes, covering the entire board. She gets bitten. By a viper." Nostradamus paused for a few seconds and closed his eyes, as if recalling his vision this way. "The Red Queen turns around and chops off the head of one of the snakes that is crawling at the King's feet. Then she leaves the board – leaves the game - and all the snakes turn to dust."

"And you think the King symbolizes Francis?"
"No, I assume it symbolizes Henry."
Catherine couldn't hide her amazement and critically looked at her seer.
"But Henry doesn't need saving. What makes you think this king symbolizes Henry?"
"My third vision. Italy and France, shattered by the venom of a snake, nevertheless reunited in the end."
"And what leads you to believe that this vision is about Henry and I? I do not believe that..." Catherine couldn't finish her sentence since she was interrupted by Nostradamus.
"You have reconciled, haven't you? And he seemed worried to death about your health, not to mention the way he looks at you." Nostradamus paused, allowing his words to slowly infiltrate her thoughts.
"This theory is too far-fetched for my liking. We were in an exceptional situation. Now we're back and a leopard don't change its spots. Henry won't stop chasing other women. It's an innate instinct." She broke off, unwilling to imagine how Henry's return to his old hunting grounds would affect his and her life.

"What's more important, do you think that Francis is still out of danger despite my return?" She would never put her own comfort before her eldest son's life.
"There is no indication that your return will put him in danger, Catherine," her seer placated her, but he could only partially reassure her.
"You will tell me immediately, should your visions change again!"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Catherine just nodded. Then she turned around and slowly walked towards the door.

The way seemed unexpectedly long, for she felt Nostradamus' piercing eyes resting on her. Since she was carrying the remedies in her right hand, Catherine used her elbow to push the handle down. Her seer's gaze was still resting on her.
"Thank you, my friend", she murmured before leaving his premises.

"There you are, my love! Nostradamus certainly took his time." Henry who had been leaning against the wall – obviously waiting for her - hurried towards his wife.
"Henry! Have you been waiting for me the whole time?"

Here we go – a brand new chapter. I hope you like it.
Many thanks for reading and and many many thanks for leaving countless reviews during the creating process of this story. I love each one of them. Take care, my dears!