Prologue: A Confession of Treason
There is a saying: "A deathbed confession is the most trustful word that one could hear from a person who is nearing death." Did such a confession come up at a stifled room at the ending hour of the night where an ill woman that had lain in the bed and her coughing up blood had not been ended. She knew with certainty her death was near, thus a confession of matters of the heart was needed to be done to her dear mother who would listen, but not say one word of it to anyone.
With bleary eyes she looked at her mother, called her, "Mama." Her voice was as gentle and calm as the times she would sing lullabies for the children.
Her mother came to her side. "shh… you must not exert yourself and keep your strength for –"
"Dear mama –" one cough stopped her for a moment. "We know it is the time for –" A coughing fit halted her from speaking further.
The mother soon pulled her in a sitting position and put one pillow or two behind her to lean back comfortably and brought up a cup of warm water to her dried lips. "Drink this and do not dare to repeat those grievous words. Our Lord is merciful, your condition shall be better." Wishful words, but as a mother, she could not bring herself to accept the fate of her daughter; She was the last surviving of her children.
After her drinking and calming a little and making sure another coughing fit would not stop her, she said, "I need to confess a subject of important nature."
"Oh!" The mother moved her lace handkerchief in a flurry in the air. "I shall send for the priest–"
"Please, mama. The calling is not needed. It is the confession of heart, not of mind or spirituality."
An assuring smile graced the pale yet angelic face of her.
She breathed a deep breath and uttered the words, "I loved and still love one king and hate another. Is this treason, mama?"
Upon hearing those words, her mother's head turned towards the door as if by mere looking at the closed door could she be assured that nobody would hear them.
She answered with a shaky voice, "This is not." her voice became firmer, "not as long as it is between a daughter and her mother."
Her dark blue eyes were becoming less focused, but she still held on for one last word, "Lizzy is, that is, was more forgiving than I."
She smiled again and her shallow breathing was stopped.
TBC…