"The Night Before"

The sun had set, the courtyard was silent and abandoned save for the watchmen now that the pyre was erected, the older monks had turned in, and the priest was now going about extinguishing the lights in the castle's chapel for the evening. Yet in spite of that, Eleonora remained kneeling in the front pew, her crucifix clasped tightly in between her hands and her eyes closed in prayer.

She had prayed late into the night before many times, although not always in the chapel, and very rarely this late. As the priest went about his task, however, he had never seen her like this before. The queen mother was always the most reserved and reverent of women when it came to attending the church. Her look was always one of composure, peace, and serenity, even at the worst of times. Tonight, however, she had changed. Her face was tight. Her jaw frequently clenched and released, and occasionally she even made faint noises and exhales. In the silence of the chapel at this hour, it was easy to hear. And by the time the only lights were the votives, she was still there.

Growing a little concerned, the priest replaced the snuffer before moving up to her. He slipped in to her side, put his arm on the edge of the pew, and lowered himself next to her as best as he could. After waiting for her to be silent for a short time, indicating she was in between prayers, he finally ventured to interrupt softly.

"My lady."

She kept her eyes shut a moment before opening them and turning her head, seeming to have needed a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

"I was going to be turning in shortly and putting out the door lamps, but I will leave them lit longer if you need more time."

More odd behavior followed. Eleonora, since she was a young woman, would have always answered quietly and politely at once. Tonight she was distracted, quiet for a moment and thinking it over before only hesitantly nodding. "Thank you…thank you, father… I…I think I might like just a little while longer."

She turned, closed her eyes, and resumed her prayers. However, the priest didn't let it off quite that easily. "I haven't seen you this fervent in over 15 years, my lady. Even the death of your husband didn't vex you so greatly. If it is the hereafter of your grandson that you fear for, I assure you as he was baptized the day prior…"

She cut him off with a sigh, shaking her head. "It's not that…not my grandson that I pray for, father. It…it's a private matter between me and God."

He nodded. "You have poured out your heart and soul to Him for hours, your grace. I am certain He has heard."

"But I am not certain."

The priest was taken aback a little by the sharp tone in which Eleonora answered, only for her to sigh immediately afterward with a frustrated expression. "Forgive me, father. It is just…it has never been like this before. I have always felt peace after beseeching my Lord. I have known His Presence upon me guiding and guarding me. Tonight…" She slowly inhaled and exhaled, shaking her head. "Tonight I do not. And it will not come no matter how hard I pray."

He stood there quietly for a few moments. "Forgive my presumptions, your grace. It is just…you know as well as I that it is not because He does not listen that we feel we go unheard. Rather, it is our sin that keeps us from God."

She didn't answer, open her eyes, or turn from her praying. Her lips moved for a moment with further prayers, only to again furrow her brow in frustration.

"Is there anything weighing on your heart now? Any shadows that hide from coming into His Light?"

She was quiet a moment. Her lips pursed and her hands clasped more tightly. As she kept kneeling though, she failed to feel any further relief, and finally she let out an exasperated sigh and let her hands falter.

"Tomorrow morning at dawn that wretched and sinful woman will burn. My son will at last be free of her wicked influence and our family will be rid of that disgrace. I should be praising the Lord for...for exposing her…for letting us be delivered from her at last and her getting what she deserves, but I cannot. No matter how I try I cannot…"

The priest nodded. "I understand, my lady. She was…I suppose is…your daughter-in-law. No matter how gruesome of a sin she committed and how despicably she acted, there is no changing that…"

Saying this only seemed to agitate the queen, but she shook her head. "No, no that's not it alone. I…I…" She stammered a moment, but closer her eyes and finally let out a more restrained admission. "I didn't care for her the moment she arrived. No, I…I hated her even then. Ever since the first day I laid eyes upon her. I always thought she was ungodly, depraved, filthy, and wretched. My son was right not to invite me to the wedding…I would have sooner killed myself than endured him saying those vows before me. I wanted nothing to do with her. I despised living under the same roof with her and wished day in and out that she was gone. I prayed for it at least three times each day."

"Well, I'd say you were justified now, although you didn't know it. After she revealed her true nature."

Rather than produce any comfort, this only made Eleonora tighten her fists to the point of white knuckles. Her teeth actually bared. It unsettled the priest a little, but he quickly went on.

"Nevertheless, it's true you didn't know at the time. You didn't know your dislike for her would be merited eventually. At the time, it was simply unjust hate."

She opened her eyes and turned to him. "Is it so wrong to want what's best for your king, your son, and your country? Is it a sin that a mother wants nothing short of what her child deserves, or that she continues to worry and fret over him even when he's older? He will always be my son no matter who he decides to marry or what he does. How can it be so wrong to want to see him protected from unvirtuous and depraved wild women? To want to see his kingdom secure and his name intact?"

The priest folded his hands in front of him. "All those are very noble things, my lady. And many of them I would expect from any mother."

"Of course!"

"But that being said…are you sure those were the only reasons?"

Eleonora's look darkened. "Of course they were. How could it be otherwise?"

"Are you truly being honest with yourself? And before God?"

"Of course I am," she nearly shouted, her lips twisting into a frown. "I have always only cared about what's best for my son and his kingdom and nothing more. Why are you suggesting otherwise?"

The priest was picking up on her tone, and it was making him a little uncomfortable, but he pressed forward. "Something is clearly troubling you, my lady. Something is making you feel as if God cannot or will not answer your prayers. And as I said, the only thing that separates us from God is sin. Were there perhaps other secret thoughts in your heart?"

Her frown deepened. "I am certain I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"You do have many of the same desires as most mothers, but mothers often have other desires. Especially ones who have only their son for their family. They do tend to look upon their daughters-in-law with some inherit disdain. Sometimes it is a bit more than that, no matter how fitting they are."

Eleonora's eyes widened at the insinuation, and rapidly afterward her face began to tighten.

"By marrying the king, she did, in a sense, take him away from you. Do you think it's possible that you might have felt a little jealous of that? And that you are feeling a bit of relief that now your son is, at least temporarily, all yours once again…between her death and the death of his son?"

"How dare you," the queen hissed. By now, her entire body was tight with growing anger, and she glared at the priest in utter fury. He recoiled to see it, his own look growing afraid. He had never seen the queen mother look so wrathful and infuriated before. She quickly went up from the kneelers, if for no reason but to glare down on him. "You make that insinuation of me? Slander me to my face before God? I've always cared only for my son's welfare! That is all! I've never been so base or petty! Never! Never in my life! And you sit there, my so-called friend and confidant, and you have the audacity to…to…!"

She quivered a moment, tight and rigid as a tree branch in a thunderstorm, but could say no more. In the midst of her angry defensiveness and passions, new thoughts were running through her head and colliding with her older thoughts. It only seemed to vex her further.

She finally scowled in exasperation and leaned back.

"It's her! It's always been her! She's the wretch! She's the one who ruined everything and stole my son's…tried to steal his kingdom from him! She's a demon and she deserves to burn! And she will tomorrow morning, and then everything will be as it should be! Everything!"

The priest was nearly pressed back into the pew now from how she shouted, her angry voice resounding so loudly through the chapel that the monks who had lied down were awakened by it. Yet she held no longer. Still fuming and tight with anger, she turned and stormed out of the pew, back down the aisle, and out of the chapel. The whole time she clenched her crucifix as hard as she could, but the more she grasped it the angrier she grew.

Like most dungeons, the castle's own was not meant to be a pleasant experience. Dank, wet, filled with the smell of mold and filth, and made of nothing but cold, rough, mortared stone scarcely illuminated by a few torches, it was a place few members of the castle staff, including the jailors, wished to be. The one good side to it was that Beneserta had relatively little need for it other than imprisoning the occasional thief for a time, but it hadn't been used in over two years and, as a result, the rats had long since moved on due to lack of food. But even without them present the place was a miserable, diseased, forgotten chamber of the castle.

Yet it would only be needed for one night.

Costanza sat on the floor of her own cell, an open space blocked off with a thick iron cage. Only the back part of it was the stone of the dungeon walls, and several thick and heavy chains were anchored to it that she was now bound to. There had been wall shackles that had been meant to torture her by leaving her suspended from the wall, but they were too big for her thin wrists and ankles and so she had been given lengths long enough to allow her to sit. That was her only relief. She had no food, no water, no chamber pot, and not even straw for bedding. The chains themselves were so heavy she had to let her arms and legs slump or she'd wear them out trying to hold them up.

She sat there much as she had for the past few hours. She didn't know how much time had passed for there was no light in the dungeon save the torches, but she knew night had to have come by now. Occasionally some creeping, loathsome thing would scurry by, and even reach out with its feelers for her, but she didn't care. Even if she hadn't spent six years living alone in a forest with all of its insects, her face made it clear none of it mattered to her. She had never looked so hollow and empty before. So crushed and defeated. She was numb to the bumps and bruises she had sustained being dragged down into the dungeon, and her red, swollen eyes were all but dry. She was so void of hope now, so filled with despair, she looked as if she was trying to will herself to die right then and there. And she was so still the jailor guarding the chamber occasionally would come over and bang on her bars with a metal rod just to see her wince to indicate she was alive.

The rest of the time he tried not to look at her, and had put his seat far from her. After all, a woman savage and evil enough to devour her own baby, some of her bones included, in one night was nothing short of an inhuman monster. He too eagerly counted the minutes, waiting for when she could finally be burned. Aside from him tapping his feet or making his chair groan from creaking it, there was no other noise.

At least, until now.

A faint sound was heard from the entryway that led to a long, stone, ascending staircase stretching all the way to first floor of the castle. As quiet as the dungeon was, it was easy enough to make it out as murmuring. The jailor looked up to it. The only person at the top of those stairs was the guard for the door leading to the dungeon proper. Obviously, someone had come by to speak with him, although it was impossible to make out either voice at first.

Over time, however, one of the voices grew a bit louder. When that happened, it was just possible to make out the tone as that of King Samuel.

The moment Costanza heard that, she showed her first signs of life in hours, turning her head up and looking at the stairs.

Another half a minute passed before things went quiet. After a minute more, the sound of a heavy key turning in the thick old lock to the dungeon door rang out, and with a creak the door opened. Soon after, the sounds of footsteps rushing downstairs almost two at a time, in spite of them being slimy and wet, echoed down the dungeon.

When the owner came into view, Costanza gave a start on seeing it was Samuel.

The jailor blanched, quickly rising from his chair in attention, but the king paid him little mind. He rushed right to the bars of the cage and grasped them. Costanza looked up, but didn't try to rise. She had been sitting too long and was already dizzy both from overwork and lack of properly caring for herself. Being in the dungeon and under the heavy chains only made things worse. However, she did force herself to inch as close to the bars as the chains would let her.

When she did, Samuel quickly crouched next to them. He reached into his vest as she got as close as she could and pulled out an object. Her eyes widened on seeing it was the piece of wood she brought with her to the castle a year ago; covered with hundreds of tiny notches she had made one by one with her flint knife. It was nearly completely covered, aside from six horizontal lines drawn across it.

He looked at her fiercely…urgently.

"I found this in your drawer. They missed it with the other effects. I sat down and I counted them. Every last one of them."

His finger went out and moved to each section, starting at the top.

"365. 366. 365. 365. 365. 366."

He pointed to the last.

"363."

He pointed all the way to the last mark, slightly different from the others.

"You didn't have a chance to make one this morning so I did. 364. Days in a year. That's what these are, aren't they?"

Costanza looked at the wood for a moment, then back up to Samuel. She nodded.

"This was a vow you took, isn't it? A vow that lasted seven years, isn't it?"

She hesitated for just a moment, but then nodded back.

"Listen to me." He leaned in closer. "This is very important. Are you not allowed to speak for seven years?"

The woman's eyes widened, not so much out of surprise as astonishment. Astonishment that someone had managed to deduce it. After a moment, she far more eagerly nodded.

"Today is day 364 of the last year. Does that mean, tomorrow at dawn, you can speak again?"

She nodded even more frantically.

"And those shirts you were making? They were part of that vow, weren't they?"

Almost gyrating her entire upper body at this point, somehow finding fresh tears on realizing someone finally understood, she nodded more fiercely than ever.

Suddenly, Samuel snapped his hand forward through the bars. It was a stretch, but it was just enough to reach through and rest his fingers on her cheek. She began to cry more freely at how gentle it was. She didn't even notice the sound of more footsteps coming down the stairs or the one jailor looking almost stunned at seeing the king reach out to her.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning… I should have trusted you more…"

In spite of her horrible situation, Costanza weakly smiled at him through her tears.

"I don't think I can get anyone to believe me, but I'm going to try to tell them. I don't know if I can call it off, but know this…no matter what happens, even if I have to run the executor through the back myself, you will not burn before dawn. Before you can speak again and tell everyone everything. I promise you that."

She sniffled, but kept smiling. She nodded.

He pulled his hand back, and right at that moment the source of the footsteps came into view before halting. It was another jailor, holding a sack and looking severely uncomfortable to be holding it, but even more so on seeing Costanza and the king being so intimate with her. He cringed, nearly stepping back the way he came. Before he could, however, Samuel arose from the bars and turned to him.

"Is that all of it?" he immediately asked.

"My lord…I don't like this…"

He began to approach him. "Give them here."

"Should've been burned already, but the law is to throw it on the pyre with her…"

"Give them here."

As he reached out to him, the jailor pulled back. "My lord, she's a witch and these are witches' things! You give them back and she'll put a curse on-"

"I said give it here!" he shouted, nearly lashing out, snatching the sack and tearing it from his flaccid grip. The jailor recoiled at that, but he glared at him fiercely and pointed his finger first at him and then at his co-laborer. "She's allowed to have these things until the execution. No one takes them away from her. Do you understand? No one. The man who does joins her on the pyre, do I make myself clear?"

The jailors both swallowed and nodded. "Y-Y-Yes, milord."

After glaring at them a moment longer, he turned and went back to the cell. The bars had just enough room to force the sack through, so he did and pushed it with enough force to make sure it sailed over and landed next to Costanza. She looked down at it only a moment before undoing the top and looking inside. She cupped her hand to her mouth at what she saw.

The five completed shirts, the one nearly-completed shirt, the remaining petals, and a needle and thread.

"The time is now an hour until midnight. You have about six hours. I can't guarantee any more than that. Whatever errand you've been trying to finish for seven years…finish it now while you can."

Costanza stared down a moment longer before looking back up at him. She was crying anew, but this time out of joyful gratitude. Her throat tightened and her lips trembled, taking all the strength within her to keep from saying "thank you".

Samuel forced his own weak smile. "I love you." Not wanting to keep her from her work a second more than necessary, he turned and began to head back to the stairs. He had his own errands to run now, after all, and it was already late.

Costanza watched him go for a moment, before she moistened her lips and looked back to the shirts. Clenching her teeth, summoning all the remaining strength she possessed, she quickly put the completed shirts aside, took up a petal, the needle and thread, and the final shirt and began to stitch with more fervor and passion than she had in all of the previous seven years.

Sitting was impossible to Eleonora now, much less sleep. As the hours wore on, she paced in her room only growing further uncomfortable. She had tried changing clothes for the next morning and arranging herself properly, but it was impossible. She looked more haggard than ever once done.

Her mind was a horrible mix of emotions. She still remembered in vivid clarity her meeting with Laura the previous day and the threats she had uttered. The feeling of being under that woman's power by having assisted her in her plan was like a weight on her heart. It was nothing, though, compared to the pain she had from her prayers. Never before had she prayed so fervently and so long to the Lord…and received not the slightest bit of peace for it. Rather a slow fire was kindled in her heart, and the more she beseeched Him the hotter it burned. She had finally reached the point where she had even begun to pray pardon for her act of deceit, even if it was for the greater good, but that only made things worse.

Through it all, her mind kept going back to the woman she had helped frame. Where before she had always thought of her as vile and despicable, chasing out the slightest inkling of her that came to mind lest she lose her temper, now she couldn't stop thinking of her in that cell. She couldn't stop imagining what she would look like soon, lashed to a stake as hungry flames consumed her. How her cries of pain and dying were no longer delights to her but nails in her stomach. She thought what would happen if she met gazes with her this morning. How she'd ever sleep again with that horrid witch's gaze burned in her memory…accusing her…

She gave way to pacing as she thought of the baby. What in the world was to be done with him? She had been so desperate to be rid of her son's wife that she hadn't thought that through. She didn't dare return him to the castle, even by way of a third party. Her son would question and probe and eventually the truth would come out. She needed to spirit him away; have him removed from the country completely. But she had trusted the royal nurse. She'd surely return to service once the king's old wife was gone, and when she did she'd relay the news…

She clenched her teeth in exasperation. The thought occurred to her that the baby should have been truly disposed of…but she did chase that thought away. She already felt like she was being tortured for her one crime. Killing an infant, even a wretched and foul one, was too much for her. Besides, the more she remembered the infant the more she rued what she had done. What if somehow, years from now, his parentage was discovered? What if he returned to the castle? Even if all else was concealed and remained that way, how would she be able to answer him if he looked her in the eye and asked what happened to his mother? Or even called her "grandmother" one day?

She clutched her crucifix tightly as she turned to the window. She nearly scowled on seeing it was still dark. Why would the sun not rise? Why would dawn not break? Why could she just not be rid of that girl so she could haunt her no more? She had new things to worry about now. She was so quickly getting rid of one devil to be plagued by another…a worse one. She needed to focus on how she could keep her away from her son or he truly would be in danger.

She clutched her hand tighter, only to scowl again and look at her crucifix. She had always relied on it as a source of comfort and protection from evil. No more so than when she had begun to fear something with Laura. She thought it would keep her safe the previous day, but she simply put her hand on it. At that moment, it was nothing but stone. And right now, in her hand, it still felt like nothing but stone.

She remembered what Laura had said…as well as the priest…

Crying out mildly in anger, she violently yanked it off of her arm and flung it across the room. It was useless to her now. She spun back to the window, ready to curse the sky if she saw no signs of dawn. Fortunately, this time, she finally caught a change. The edge of the horizon was just starting to turn a darker blue. At last, there would be no more than two hours before it would all be over.

A knock rapped on the door.

Eleonora turned, pausing and looking at it. After a moment, she grimaced to herself. In all of what had happened, she forgot she had given Paola leave. The new attending servant didn't know to come in. However, looking over herself, she realized it was just as well. She looked terrible. Taking a moment to smooth her dress and adjust her hair, she walked over to the door, grasped the latch, and opened it up.

She nearly addressed who was on the other side, but the moment she laid eyes upon the maid the noise caught in her throat. She was pale and trembling, looking like she had just seen a ghost. She was clasping her chest and breathing rather heavily, seeming to have just caught it. The queen mother was justly astonished at the sight.

"B-B-Begging your pardon, my lady," she stammered. "I would have gone straight to the king but he wasn't in his bedchamber. Something very terrible has happened. I know…we're still feeling the last horrid thing that happened in the castle, but it seems we're made for misfortune."

"Whatever are you talking about? What happened?"

She swallowed, taking another moment to compose herself before explaining. "One of the night watchmen… He walked in and just about fainted dead away. I've never seen a grown man look so stricken. Even when we got him to come to we could barely get bits and pieces of the story from him, but it sounded like he was patrolling the walls when he saw a wolf wandering around the old grove. He headed out to chase it off and…and…" She gulped again. "I think he said he found Paola out there."

Now Eleonora's own eyes widened. The way in which the servant said that made it clear Paola hadn't just been walking around out there in the middle of the night. "What do you mean? How did he find her?"

"M-M-Maybe he was so scared that he didn't see right in the darkness…"

"How did he find her?"

"Or…or maybe we misheard him…"

"How did he find her?"

The servant swallowed one more time, beginning to tremble. Her voice shrank to nearly a whisper. "He…he said…she was all 'eaten out'…like big worms or snakes had rotted her from the inside and…and…and crawled out all over…"

Eleonora at once grew paler than the maid, cupping her hands to her mouth and staggering back a step. Her eyes shimmered and she nearly lost her footing then and there. As angry as she had been with Paola yesterday, deep down in her heart-of-hearts she still trusted her not only as her most faithful maidservant but her friend. She fully expected to see her returned to service once this was done and to put everything behind them. To hear she had met this horrible fate…

Eleonora was a shrewd woman. It took less than a second to realize the truth.

She knew that Paola was acting strange that night. In spite of her distaste for the child, she feared to hand her to her, knowing something was off. Whatever had done this to her had to be the cause. And she knew at once it was no animal. It was something horrible. Something devilish and infernal.

As unsettled as she was to hear the news, anger quickly rose to replace it. Her face tightened and her eyes blazed. She found her strength again and planted her feet as her hands tightened into fists. She reached out and put her hands on the maid's shoulders briefly to calm her, but only for a moment.

"Wait here a moment and I'll change, then come with me to the grove. I want to see her myself."

To be continued...