Читать книгу In The Shadow - Анна Морион - Страница 5

She knew her father had seen her, knew what he thought and how angry he was. But Brigid didn't care how long her father would humiliate and insult her for leaving the dining hall so suddenly; all she wanted to do was lock herself in her chambers, lie in bed, and cover herself with a blanket. She had done this when she was a little girl, when there was a thunderstorm, but this time the storm had caught her on a fine summer's day, and she had instinctively wished to hide herself away, to protect herself by voluntary seclusion.

Now Brigid knew who the accidental witnesses to her disgrace were. The lady and her husband on the back stairs. In the hall the girl recognised their voices, and her heart beat as fast as a rabbit fleeing from vicious hunting dogs.

Did the Queen recognise her? Perhaps. But she would hardly have admonished her, for she was so kind and sweet.

The King and Queen saw her covered in mud from head to toe. They laughed at her, good-naturedly, but still… Brigid did not want to accidentally catch His Majesty's eye and listen to his jokes about that unexpected meeting… She did not want to hear his voice at all: remembering how cruelly and insultingly he had spoken to his wife on the stairs, and how openly he humiliated her at his own court, the girl hated him, and it became unpleasant for her even to be in the same room with him. No, she could no longer bear the neglect and rudeness that Henry was so pleased to throw in the face of his legitimate wife, the Queen of England.

To watch the smug smiles of the Boleyns, whom Miss Guise had seen before when she had last visited her father and mother in London, in the days when he had been the king's counsellor, was beyond her. She remembered this power-hungry family, who by then had already managed to put another Boleyn, Anne's own sister Mary, in the royal bed under the lusty Henry. And, Brigid was sure, they would put all the girls of their family in his bed just to stay in power and influence the king. They were like pincers to him and would not give up their place. Miss Guise knew all the Boleyns by sight and hated them. Just like her father, to whom one single barb against Anne, who had captured the heart of a king bored with the flesh of another sister, had cost him his position, his career, his title, and his influence. Yes, Anne held Henry in check with her gentle hand like a mighty but foolish horse, and by her demands that he divorce Catherine of Aragon, slowly but surely poisoned the life of the latter… No, what luck that his father was banished from court! Brigid did not have to see the daily horror that the Queen's ladies in honour witnessed.

How fortunate that the Guises had been forgotten at court. Even though Brigid's father and mother were embittered by this and sought to return, the girl herself swore to herself that her foot will never again set foot where Catherine is offended, and where weave their dark intrigues Boleyn family.

When Brigid entered her chamber, she hurriedly took off her hood, lay down on her bed, and closed her eyes tiredly.

– Please, Heavenly Father, I beg you to free the Queen from her suffering! Give the king back his mind and turn him away from the sin of adultery! – The girl whispered fervently and kissed the small gold cross adorning her neck. She was seized by emotion, and she covered her face with her palms and wept silently. Her body was burning, she felt hot, but inside the girl was gripped by coldness.

– What do you think you're doing, you wretched girl? You are out of hand! Now go back to the hall and charm the king! – There was an almost animalistic growl that made Brigid flinch and open her eyes in fright.

Sir Guise had entered his daughter's room. He was furious, his eyes seemed to be shooting sparks. Walking over to the bed, he jerked his daughter onto her back and swung his big strong arm.

– Father… Don't hit me! Don't hit me! – wheezed the poor girl. From fear, heavy reflection, and hurt feelings, she had turned pale enough to make her tyrant father withhold his blow and squint his eyes suspiciously.

– Are you pretending to be ill? – Sir Guise asked incredulously. He did not want to believe that his daughter could be ill: not now when the King of England himself was sitting downstairs in the dining hall! She must be there, though dying, though half faint! The King must see her rare beauty and fall at her feet, forget the poisonous snake Anne Boleyn!

– I dare not pretend, sir… It is hard to breathe! – Brigid barely breathed out, and suddenly the hands with which she tried to cover herself from a possible blow from her father, fell limply on the bed, the pupils of her eyes rolled up, and her eyelids closed tightly.

– What's the matter with you, you filthy girl? – Sir Guise said with some fear, but more with anger, and, wishing to bring his daughter to her senses, he slapped her white cheek with his open palm.

The slap did the trick: Brigid slowly opened her eyes and breathed heavily.

– Have you taken ill? – Sir Guise patted his daughter's cheek a few more times, as if trying to bring back her blush. – Brigid, I command you…" But the sudden tears that escaped from the girl's eyes made him cringe. His eyes rounded: this was how he had lost his son. His heir.

Thomas Guise had died at the age of fifteen. His death was sudden, for no one had expected a tall, broad-shouldered, strong young man to leave this sinful earth within a couple of hours of going to bed. Hot, clammy skin, heavy, ragged breathing, pupils rolling under his eyelids… Thomas had been taken away by a fever that had come from nowhere, and now this deadly disease was planning to take away the Guises' daughter, their only child.

Brigid's father was horrified: no, he did not want to lose his daughter! Lord, don't take her away so soon! He vows never to abuse her again, but to cherish her as the good Virgin Mary cherished her Saviour Child! He will not bear the death of both his children! He cannot bear to see his children, the fruits of his life, disappear forever in the old family vault!

– My daughter…" Sir exhaled. His face turned as white as Brigid's. He seized the girl in his arms, pressed her tightly against him, and kissed her burning forehead. – Brigid! Stay with us! I could not save your brother, but I will not let death take you too! Lie down, my daughter… I will call your mother… She will know what to do! – Sir Guise gently laid his daughter back on the bed, kissed her sweat-damp hand with feeling, and ran out of the chambers like an arrow, calling loudly for the servants.

"Love your children while they are alive. Tears cannot raise them from death." The cruel father, who mocked his daughter's pure first love, humiliated her for the slightest trifle and repeatedly beat her on the hands with a thin rod, only now realised that he loved Brigid, and that if he lost her, he would lose everything… Including the opportunity to rise again. After all, if Brigid, the most beautiful girl in all of England, were to die, he would have no chance of returning to the palace and getting his titles and lands back. But despite his greed and cold calculation, as he walked swiftly down the corridor, Sir Guise thought of only one thing: he could not lose his daughter too! If she dies, so does his soul. And what would become of her mother? She'll go mad with grief! God be with the King! Let him have his fun with the snake Anne Boleyn, let this family continue to poison the fool Henry's mind! He needs to save his girl, his Brigid, his only child.

– You! Bring cold water and clean cloths to Brigid's chamber! Now! – Sir Guise rudely ordered the first maid he could get his hands on, and the maid, even dropping her broom from surprise, picked up the hem of her old dress and ran to do what she had been instructed to do.

"Am I dying? But what about William?" – raced through the delirium of Brigid's inflamed brain. She was so hot that she wished she could take off all her clothes and remain naked, but her body was so weak that she could not move even the fingers of her hands. Her scalp was wet under the heavy Spanish hood, her hair was sticky, and her forehead was strewn with drops of sweat. She felt as if she were being burned alive at the stake like a witch.

She had seen a witch burned once. It was a young woman with long black hair and blue eyes. She was tied to a stake surrounded by dry brushwood and hay to the whistles and curses of the crowd, wearing only a torn lower dress, and soon only a charcoal silhouette remained. It seemed to Brigid that she was the witch, that it was her body that was greedily devoured by the flames.

– Alienor, farewell, sister! William, my love…" the girl whispered faintly. – God save the Queen!

A moment later she was swallowed up by darkness.

When the girl opened her eyes again, the sun had already set behind the horizon, and evening twilight was descending on England. But Brigid could not realise how long she had been unconscious: the large windows of her chambers were tightly closed with dark curtains. The scent of hay and flowers could be clearly heard in the air: it was the girl's mother who had ordered the floor to be laid to lighten her daughter's plight and to add freshness to the stale air of the small chambers. The fire burned hotly in the fireplace, and beside it, asleep in an armchair, sat Lady Guise. Only the flame of the fireplace lit the room, but it was enough to chase away the darkness, and the semi-darkness was even pleasant to Brigid's tired eyes.

Brigid found the strength to raise herself slightly on the pillows and found herself lying in bed in only her nightgown, her hair braided to keep it out of the way.

"Then I am still alive… But how my whole body aches! Every bone in my body aches!" – involuntarily flashed through the girl's mind. Despite the pain, Brigid felt a little better: the fever that had been burning her was gone, but her skin was still hot and clammy, and her nightgown was sticking unpleasantly to her body.

– Mother! Mother, is that you? – The girl asked quietly. Her voice sounded harsh and breathy, but Lady Guise did not move: she was sound asleep. – Mother! – With all the strength left in her from the attack, Brigid repeated, and this time the tired woman slowly opened her eyes. – Mother! How glad I am that you are here! – Brigid whispered loudly, and tried to stretch out her hand to her mother.

– Lie still, my child, do not move! – said Lady Guise affectionately, hastily rising from her chair and approaching her daughter. She knelt at the headboard of the bed, not sparing the velvet skirt of her dress, and took her daughter's palm in her own. – 'We were frightened! You had a stroke, and there was nothing we could do! – She sobbed and gently stroked Brigid's face, pale and hot.

When Lady Guise heard that Brigid was taken ill, that she seemed to have had a fit of fever, she hurried to her, forgetting the King and Queen and breakfast. She had been cruel to her daughter, and had never found an affectionate word for her, but now that her daughter was on her deathbed, the maternal love that had been hiding deep in her soul engulfed her whole being. She spent the whole day in Brigid's room, never leaving her side, undressing her herself and changing her into her nightgown, wetting her forehead with wet cloths, and praying fervently. It was not until evening, when Brigid had ceased to toss and turn in bed, that Lady Guise allowed herself a little rest in the armchair by the fireplace, and as soon as she sat down she fell asleep. Like her husband, this woman was suffering every second from the loss of her beloved son, and the possible loss of her daughter made her exactly what a mother should be – loving and caring.

– Is the father very angry? – A faint smile appeared on Brigid's lips: she had never in her life seen her mother so… So close, so tender to her.

– He is not angry, my child! He is not angry at all! How can he be? We nearly lost you! – Lady Guise smiled broadly, and a tear of joy ran down her cheek: her daughter was alive! God had spared her!

– But he so wished me to go down and smile at the King…

– Oh, forget it! Your life is far more precious to us than all the kings of the world and all their treasuries! I know we have been hard on you, at times, too much… But we are your parents, and we love you. – These words came with some difficulty to Lady Guise, for it was the first time she had ever told Brigid of her motherly love.

– I will try to get well as soon as possible…" the girl began, clutching her mother's hand tightly.

– 'The King has gone away,' her mother said briefly.

– Gone? So soon? – Brigid was surprised.

– After breakfast, he and his retinue continued on their way. There was an unpleasant scene between Henry and the Queen, and he was so angry that he left the castle at once.

– Poor Catherine! – Brigid wrinkled her nose, feeling genuine pity for the Queen. – It's all because of Anne Boleyn, isn't it?

– I don't know how it started, but he suddenly rose from his seat, accused Catherine of disrespect, took this Boleyn girl under his arm and left the hall. And in an hour they were all gone… But you need not worry about the Queen: she knows Henry's temper. – Lady Guise was silent, not wanting to tell her sick daughter about the insolent smirks of the Boleyn family watching the scene. – You need to rest. So do I… Just for a little while, I promise I'll be back to you in a few hours… Alienor demanded to be allowed to care for you, but your father wouldn't let her in.

– That's a wise decision. What if she gets infected? She is in surprisingly good health, but she should pray for my soul, Mother," Brigid smiled again. She did not want to let her mother go, now that she had changed her attitude so much, but she realised that she needed rest. – Go, Mother, I feel better. If you are afraid for me, leave the maid with me for the night.

Lady Guise kissed her daughter's forehead, carefully fluffed the pillows beneath her head, and, giving Brigid another kiss in which she put all the love she had awakened in her, left the room.

Brigid closed her eyes and, trying not to think of either the Queen or William, tried to sleep, but suddenly the door opened again, and into the room, dressed in her nightdress and nightcap, came Alienor.

– Don't come near me! What if you get infected? – Brigid exclaimed with anxiety mixed with joy.

But Alienor did not listen to her friend, went to the bed, and sat down next to Brigid.

– 'The King has gone,' was the first thing the sick girl heard.

– I know. Mother has already told me," Brigid said.

– You are so pale… My poor, my good one… – Alienor wet a cloth and began to wipe her friend's face. – How you frightened us all! And I wasn't even allowed to take care of you!

– I'm sorry.

– Silly girl, how can anyone apologise for something like that?

– I think you should leave me. Your parents will be very sad if you fall ill too," Brigid smiled weakly. But how she liked her friend's concern! Alienor's voice was invigorating, enveloping her like a beautiful, cheerful song.

– I won't. My health is undefeated, as my grandmother says! And she is a wise woman, she has seen and learnt many things in her life. – Alienor continued to wipe her friend's face with a wet cloth, and then touched Brigid's forehead with the inside of her palm. – It doesn't help… You're burning up.

– But I feel so much better than I did this morning… I wish I could have had a word with Queen Catherine. She looked so sad, and it was as if the royal retinue didn't notice her at all. It was as if she had been abandoned by everyone," Brigid sighed.

– It was her own fault. If she hadn't made so many demands on Anne Boleyn, he would have played with that beauty and then traded her for another, as he usually does. My father tells me everything that goes on at court. When he is there, I get long letters from him, and when he comes home for a week or two we only talk about the court. I persuade him to take me with him and introduce me to the Queen, but he says she is now too disturbed by the behaviour of her lady in waiting, Anne, and will not take a new, younger, and prettier lady in waiting. Though, if the King insists… But he only saw a glimpse of me. He was only looking at his precious favourite, and that one, shameless girl, just devoured him with her eyes… Come on, my dear, don't be upset: the King is understandable. He's married to an old Spanish woman.

– She's only six years older than Henry.

– Six years, to think of it! – Alienor shook her head unhappily. – A woman should never be older than her husband! Never!

– But why? – Brigid wheezed in despair. Her chest was full of bitterness and pain for Catherine.

– Because when the wife is older, happens things that constantly happens to the Queen: miscarriages and constant adultery of her husband" – admonished Alienor, but seeing the tears in the eyes of her dear friend, gently added: – But all is in God's hands. Perhaps he will let the Queen bear the boy? Then the King will come to his senses and surround her with the same love that warmed her in their younger days.

– Let us hope so. Amen! – Brigid whispered fervently and touched her cross lovingly.

– Amen," Alienor said.

But she was lying: the last thing she wanted was for Catherine and Henry to be at peace again. She despised the Queen, her iron patience, and the dignity with which she bore the insults and mocking giggles of her own ladies-in-waiting behind her back. If Alienor had been Queen, she would have instantly silenced the mockers and envious, but it seems that the daughter of the great Isabella could not defend herself even from the barking in her direction of the little court dogs that her husband loved so much. Did such a woman, such a Queen deserve respect and love? "No", thought the persistent and self-confident Miss Norton. Catherine would fall, and that fall she would deserve.