Pawns and Queens--A 15th Century Gwynedd Story--Chapter Six

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3207.0.html


Chapter Six

January 23, 1464
The Konungamóðir's private chamber
Eistenfalla, Eistenmarcke


Queen Ingrid Ylva Ørnensdatter of Eistenmarcke, mother and regent of the twelve year old King Haakon, carefully studied her reflection in the polished brass mirror before her. Today of all days, she wanted to appear at her best, for she was about to test the waters of forming a vital alliance with her neighbor to the south, and given what she knew of the man, he had a weakness for feminine beauty. Well, that she could certainly provide, even if she thought it was a stupid quality to seek to wed a woman for unless it also came along with strength, wealth, and power.

She had all four qualities. Not only was she the widow of a King, she was the Konungamóðir, mother to the new King. Haakon was not yet ready to come into the fullness of his power, so she also served as his regent. That was what had turned King Torval's attention towards her, she knew. He wished to form an alliance with her, to use her for his purposes.

She was fine with that. She wished to use him also. At least they knew where they stood with one another. At least he ought to know she wished to use him as much as he wished to use her, but another of Torval's weaknesses was vanity. He probably thought he was doing her great honor, offering up his handsome self in marriage, wanting a beautiful woman in his bed who would bring him land, ships and sons, without any ambitions or dreams of vengeance of her own.

Ingrid laughed at the thought.  Torval would soon learn that the women of the North were not the soft, compliant, delicate creatures of the southern climes that he was used to. No, aside from a few who had been infected by the weak and overly scrupulous morality of the Hvitakristr, the women of her people were men's equals, as capable of leading the people as Torval himself. More capable, perhaps, though she had not yet had the opportunity to take his full measure.

The door sprang open and Haakon bounded in. She turned to face him.

"My son, you are too old to be entering my private chamber uninvited."

His eyes, so much like Sigmund's, raked her form in curious appraisal. "Why? Because I might find you seducing Torval? He hasn't arrived yet."

She laughed. "And that's the first assumption you come to just because you've entered to find me attractively dressed? Haakon, seduction is a useful tool, much like a sword, but like a sword, it is most effective if you don't just go around swinging it indiscriminately. And perhaps not the very moment the man is stepping off our Transfer Portal. I would at least allow him to have his fill of food and mead first."

"To dull the senses, so he's less wary of your intentions and lulled into complacency?"

"Even so." She turned back towards the mirror, reaching for one of her cosmetics jars and beginning to darken her lashes, the sooty color of the cosmetic setting off the brilliant blue of her eyes. "So why the sudden interest in what happens in my bed? Have you started having thoughts about enjoying girls yet? If so, go find one. I'm trying to get ready for Torval's arrival."

"Truly?" Haakon looked thoughtful, the expressions flitting across his features showing growing excitement over the possibilities she had just opened up to him. "There is a thrall I want, Móðir. The pretty, dark-eyed girl my father's brother brought back last summer from one of the islands off Kheldour. May I have her?"

"The one called Agnes, who helps Bjørn's wife with the child-minding?" She checked her reflection before applying the cosmetic to the other set of lashes. "I don't see why not, as long as your uncle is willing to spare her services. Ask Bjørn how much he wants for her. Although I will allow this on one condition." She turned to face him again. "You will not force the girl. You will use this opportunity to learn how to coax a maiden into going to your bed willingly."

He looked confused. "But why? She's just a thrall!"

"Because, my son, it is a useful skill to know. Someday you will not simply be looking for a few minutes of pleasure, you will be seeking to win and keep a wife. Or perhaps you may just have a need to woo a woman into giving you something that will benefit you. In either case, you will need to know how to use wit and charm, not simply brute force. The more practice you have at that, the better. It's never too early to start learning the skill."

"I suppose that makes sense." Again, he gave her an appraising look. "Did Faðir charm you?"

Ingrid smiled wistfully. "He did. Sigmund was a very charming man when he put his mind to it. I'm certain you'll have inherited your father's knack for that. You just need to discover it for yourself."

"I'll go tell Bjørn we wish to buy his thrall."

"No, you wish to buy his thrall. You have your own coin, Haakon. I have no interest in the girl." The Konungamóðir began to style her white-gold hair. "Now go. Torval will be arriving very soon, and I wish to be ready when he gets here."

#

January 23, 1464
Haakonshallen, the Great Hall
Eistenfalla, Eistenmarcke

King Torval Nikolaj Ragnarrson Hjort-Furstan of Nördmarcke glanced around the Great Hall in the royal palace of Haakonshallen in surreptitious admiration. The rough cut stone of the castle walls looked as gray and forbidding as the wintry weather outside, but on the side of the hall opposite the glazed window arches, the walls were curtained with a row of colorful arrases. He suspected that behind gaps in the tapestries lay hidden alcoves leading into adjoining chambers. Benches and tables for the Eistenfallan hirðmenn lined either side of the room, and at the head of the hall, on a stepped dais, was the high table, resplendent with a luxurious cloth of finely woven samite, the wooden thrones facing the room highly ornamented with skilled wood carving and gilding. The roof was supported by a high arch of wooden beams, putting him in mind of the upturned hull of a ship–quite fitting for the royal hall of a seafaring people. Running down the center of the hall was a stone hearth, the smoke from it rising high into the beams, from there to exit the hall by means of some vent he was unable to see in the dim light.

He had not visited Eistenfalla since King Sigmund's day. Now he was here to pay court to Sigmund's widow. Torval smiled in anticipation. Sigmund's death could not have come at a more fortuitous time. He might have been tempted to kill the Norselander King himself just to get his hands on Sigmund's very useful temptress of a wife, but had that been the case, she might not have agreed to consider his suit so willingly.

It wasn't simply the lady's charms that piqued Torval's interest, unless one took the word 'charms' in a very literal sense. Queen Ingrid was one of the Norselands' most skilled seið-konas, and her knowledge of the ancient Northern magical lore would be a valuable asset in his upcoming campaign against Gwynedd.

The lady raised her goblet in a toast to him as the hirðmenn cheered loudly, their babble flying through the hall so swiftly he had some trouble following what was said in their quick Northman tongue, although Torval considered himself reasonably fluent in their language, his mother having been born and raised in their kingdom until her marriage to Torval's father. Torval's father had also borne some Eistermarcker blood, for the bonds were close between the two bordering kingdoms.

If tonight's visit was successful, they would become closer still. Torval stood, raising his own toast to Eistenmarcke's dowager queen and regent, admiring the gleam of the firelight on her pale silken tresses, very similar to the luxurious glints of light reflected by the ivory and gold samite gown that he glimpsed hugging her curves beneath the sumptuous, fur-lined mantle that she wore.

Beside her, the boy king Haakon sat, his attention momentarily diverted, giving Torval the opportunity to take his measure discreetly.  He was a strapping lad for a boy with only twelve years, looking more like a young man well into his early teens. That was Sigmund's contribution to the boy's appearance. Torval recognized the likeness well in his frame and the tousled red-gold curls, only a shade lighter than Sigmund's had been. He had Sigmund's wary eyes as well. It was difficult to see what Ingrid's contribution to the boy's appearance might have been, aside from a slight delicacy of feature, though that might well simply be due to the young king not having reached his full manhood yet. The boy, perhaps sensing Torval's gaze upon him, turned and gave him an appraising stare back. Ah, there it was...the same cool, calculating expression Torval had seen on Ingrid's face on several occasions. The lad had his mother's keen mind.

He would be a force to be reckoned with, once he came of age. Torval did not intend for that to happen. He felt a twinge of regret, for he had genuine respect and regard for the boy's late father as well as for his dam. But Torval would brook no rival, and that was what Haakon was destined to become if he lived long enough to rule an independent Eistenmarcke in his own right.

#

January 23, 1464
The Konungamóðir's private chamber
Eistenfalla, Eistenmarcke

"So, now you believe I can deliver on my promises?"  Queen Ingrid trailed teasing fingertips down Torval's chest as she smiled up at him.

He caught her hand in his, bowing over her fingers to bestow a light kiss on them. "I had no doubt that you could, my lady. Still, that was a very impressive display, I must admit. You performed the blót sacrifice on the Winter Solstice, which was on what date this year? Around the thirteenth of December?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And King Uthyr dropped dead unexpectedly just two days later, leaving his kingdom in an uproar. Most impressive." Torval returned Ingrid's satisfied smile. "Too bad your god didn't take out the entire lot while he was at it."

"Greedy git." Ingrid gave him an amused look. "Odin's favors aren't free, and unless you start raiding Gwynedd's border for more thralls and cattle, we won't have the required numbers of sacrifices for the Ostara blót as it is, at least not without taking more than our due amount of slaves and livestock away from our own people, which would hardly win us eager followers. If you want to bring me ninety-nine thralls to sacrifice and an equal number of livestock for every Haldane you'd like to see magically drop dead, that's up to you, but I'd prefer to offer up the blót to help assure our victory in battle instead. You can always kill the Haldanes in the more usual ways on your own time."

"So when is the spring sacrifice? Early March, isn't it? Shortly before the spring thaw?" Torval stepped away from Ingrid, pacing the floor in thought. "The troops will be fully mobilized and ready to march by then. I want to move through the passes by the end of March, or no later than the first week of April, depending on the ground conditions by then."

"I know," Ingrid replied. "And I will have my own plans put in place by then, if the weather cooperates, which it will." She slanted a look towards her guest. "And what of your other ally? Is everything in place?"

Torval chuckled. "Yes. I dangled the bait and he leapt straight for it. And you call me a greedy git!" He sat on her bed, grinning up at her. "I've never seen a man so eager to throw a daughter at me. Would you be jealous if I took him up on the offer?"

"You could add her to your ninety-and-nine hostages for the blót," Ingrid joked before suddenly looking pensive. "How young is this maiden? Is she a virgin?"

"I imagine she must be. She's around sixteen, I think. I really wasn't seriously considering wedding her." Torval raised a blond eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"

"I am not certain yet. There is something I must see first." Ingrid went to the door, opening it and speaking softly to the shieldmaiden outside, who nodded and followed her into the room, closing and barring the door behind her. Turning back to Torval, she asked, "Since you seem so interested in the Old Ways, would you like to see a little seiðr magic?"

Baffled but intrigued, Torval stood. "Certainly!"

The two women led him through a curtained alcove into a dimly lit round chamber. Ingrid gestured towards a low bench that faced a high seat, indicating that he should take the bench. An unlit brazier stood in the center of the room between the two seats. As he sat, the shieldmaiden walked around the room, doing something that Torval's senses informed him was some form of warding. As the circle around them closed, she stood sentry by the doorway they had just entered from, watching them intently from her place of safety between the dome of warding and the chamber wall.

"If you wish to help, Torval, please light the fire," said Ingrid as she bent to pull something out of a chest stashed away beneath the raised seat. Torval stood, using handfire to set the kindling in the brazier ablaze. Looking back up, he noticed that Ingrid had changed into some sort of ceremonial garb, her gown covered by a blue mantle adorned with gold. On her head was a cap of black lambskin lined with white fur, and she held a long staff.

Reaching into her belt pouch, Ingrid took out something–possibly some sort of plant seeds, Torval thought–and tossed them onto the embers in the brazier. Climbing onto the platform on which the tall chair stood, she took her seat facing Torval. "Now we may begin," Ingrid said, "Do not speak until the ritual has ended and the circle has been broken."

The shieldmaiden began a low, repetitive chant, keeping time by thumping the blunt end of her spear on the ground beside her. As smoke rose from the brazier, Torval felt himself beginning to feel a little drowsy. The chant seemed to grow louder with each repetition, the sound filling the warm room, putting Torval into a trancelike state. He felt as though he was less anchored to the ground now, almost as if floating slightly above the bench, even though his eyes told him that he had not moved.

Ingrid's voice, when at last she spoke, had a distant sound. The chanting stopped abruptly at the sound of the seið-kona's voice.

"Behold, the Man of Blood comes, and Stag will mate with Eagle. The Bride of Fire will be wed for the sake of the land, and the Lion will suffer grievous wounds on the day of reckoning. In the den of the Lioness, what is held most dear will be lost."

That sounded promising enough, Torval thought, even though he was unsure what it all meant. At least he was pretty sure the Stag and Eagle were himself and Ingrid, those being their respective heraldic emblems, and he was also certain the Lion referred to a Haldane. Which one, he had no idea.

There was a long silence afterwards. After another minute or more, Ingrid glanced towards the shieldmaiden, who recognized the silent signal. She used the spear's point to cut the ward circle, dispelling the energies.

The embers in the brazier dimmed and the smoke began to clear through a small circular vent in the roof above it. Through the vent, Torval could see the faint glimmer of stars.

Ingrid descended from the high seat, Torval belatedly thinking to offer her his hand to assist her as she came down to his level. He followed her out of the hazy chamber, his mind still foggy. Despite the cloudiness of his thoughts, his other senses felt heightened. Ingrid shrugged out of her mantle and removed the lambskin cap, shaking out her white-gold hair, making his pulse leap with desire.

"Thank you. You may leave us," Ingrid told the shield maiden, still sounding oddly distant to Torval's ears, almost echoing, as if whispering from the bottom of a well.

The door closed behind the departing guard. Torval had a thousand questions, but all of them could wait. Ingrid led him to her bed then, and the rest of the night was lost in the haze of delirious pleasure followed by deep slumber.

#

January 24, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Morning

Catalina awakened to what sounded like furniture being moved around within the adjoining chamber.  As she sat up, Doña Amina entered the room.

"¡Es la madre de su prometido!" Amina whispered with some urgency.

"Speak in Gwyneddan, please," Catalina reminded her chaperone. "We must become accustomed to using their language now." She hastily took the flannel cloth Amina handed her and used the ewer and basin to swiftly freshen up. "You are no longer my Camarera or my duenna, you are my Mistress of the Robes and my chaperone."

"Yes, yes!" Amina hissed impatiently, "but you must hurry!" She shook out Catalina's gown, laying it out on the bed and running a hand over it to smooth out any wrinkles. "That woman is driving us all loca!"

Catalina quickly donned a fresh chemise, then shrugged into the dark crimson fitted gown she had arrived in. "'That woman,' as you call her, is the Dowager Queen of Gwynedd, and you will refer to her with all due respect, Lady Amina. Even if she is driving everyone crazy." She waited until Amina had finished tightening and tying off her gown's lacings and attached both black and gold brocade sleeves before reaching for her surcoat, then hesitated. No, if she was to spend her morning moving furniture around, she didn't want to risk ruining the outer layer of her only outfit. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Her braid was still mostly tidy, but she dampened her palms with the flannel cloth and then ran them over the top of her hair to tame the few strands that had managed to escape the braid while she slept.

"I will collect some proper tooth cloths as soon as I can, but one of the palace servants brought up a bowl of anise comfits earlier that should serve for now," Amina said, offering the princess a small bowl of the candied anise seeds. Catalina used the tiny spoon in the bowl to help herself to a spoonful, pouring them into her palm to avoid dirtying the spoon and then popping the comfits into her mouth, savoring the flavor of them. At least she looked reasonably presentable now and her breath would be fresh enough that she could converse with her new mother-by-marriage without causing offense. It would have to serve.

#

Prince Nicholas opened the door and, to his surprise, experienced the rare feeling of being wholly unnoticed in a room full of people. In the center of the antechamber stood his mother and his bride-to-be, with his bride's ladies in waiting standing in various corners of the room looking ill at ease, watching an exchange that fell short of being hostile but felt charged nonetheless.

"Indeed, I do thank you for the loan of the items, Your Majesty," Catalina was saying, "but the more cabinets and heavy bedsteads we put together now, the more we shall have to disassemble and return to storage in only a week's time, maybe two at most. The truckle beds will serve us well enough for a few days, and we are very grateful for the use of them. But our primary need at the moment is clothing."

Queen Soraya waved away the princess's concern. "We can find you some suitable gowns to borrow later. Do you intend to have your ladies sew whilst seated on mattresses on the floor?"

"Ideally not, but I think it would be much easier to use the window seats for that purpose, or perhaps borrow a few benches for the time being that we can put back where they belong once my furniture arrives."

Soraya looked baffled. "Your furniture?"

"Yes. My dower goods. I have four rooms' worth of furnishings arriving with the men-at-arms on the caravels, including proper bedsteads and feather mattresses for my entourage, chests of clothing, wall hangings, sideboards, fauldstools, curtains, paintings, and other such movable goods from my old apartment in Rhanamé, which should all fit very nicely in here once it is all assembled, but we shall not have room to assemble it all if the rooms are already full."

"Oh!" Soraya appeared startled at the thought. "I did not realize you were bringing so much with you!"

Catalina seemed equally surprised by her future mother-by-marriage's reaction. "I will likely be living here for the rest of my life, Madam, and my Andelonian ladies plan on remaining here for at least a year, if not more, until I can get my Gwyneddan household fully established," she finally said, sounding as if she was trying to hold back a laugh. "I thought I might wish to bring a bit more with me than just a chest or two of wedding clothes and fripperies."

Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle at the irony; that had been pretty much the entirety of what Alixa had brought with her upon her marriage to Cinhil, aside from a few extra gowns that had been considered the height of Jouvian fashion at the time, and a chest of coin that was meant to be the remainder of her dowry. Even that had contained more silver coins than gold. His mother had been quite nonplussed at the time; now she seemed equally baffled that her new daughter-by-marriage was arriving with a dowry truly fit for a queen.

Both heads swiveled towards him, noticing his presence for the first time. He bowed, then took a step into the room. "Maman, if the two of you have finished sorting out this matter, the King has requested an introduction to my affianced wife."

Catalina looked startled, her hand flying up to touch her hair. "I'll get my surcoat. Lady Amina, please attend to me."  She swiftly withdrew into her bedchamber, her chaperone following immediately behind her.

#

Catalina emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed in the outfit she had arrived in, although Lady Amina had evidently wrought some form of miracle to make it less evident that the same clothing the Princess had selected to wear when visiting the Court of his uncle King Arnaud the afternoon before, then made a discreet disappearance to Gwynedd in later that same day, was being pressed into service again just hours later for this meeting with a second foreign King. Her emerald brocade surcoat looked freshly pressed, and her hair had been rebraided with matching emerald ribbons wound through it. A hint of dark crimson filled the deep V neckline of the surcoat, echoing the color of Nicholas's tunic. Although he wore a different outfit from the one he had worn the previous evening, it still somehow had managed to become rumpled in the brief time he had worn it that morning, giving the unfortunate appearance that he had dressed himself in the dark. Which, come to think of it, he practically had.

His bride-to-be offered his mother a polite curtsey before taking the arm he offered and allowing him to lead her out of the room. "I apologize if my mother is being more of a hindrance than helpful," Nicholas said as soon as they were well out of earshot. "Alixa arrived here with hardly more than a couple of chests full of clothing and fabric, and one sour old chaperone who barely survived two months into her stay here, so I think Maman took it into her head that your arrival would be similarly uneventful and that you would require her assistance more than you do, even though she herself arrived here in Gwynedd with so many ladies and furnishings, Father once joked he had thought she was planning an invasion of Fiannese Amazons when they first landed on the family doorstep."

Catalina laughed. "She is a little intense, your mother, but I can sense she means well."

"You appear to have slept well, at least."

The princess blushed. "Well enough, I suppose, once I finally managed to sleep. I was very tired, and...I suppose that the disruptions of the past few days have given me odd dreams." She gave his clothing a quick glance before meeting his eyes with an expression of concern. "And you? From the dark circles under your eyes, I am guessing you did not."

"Hardly a wink," he confirmed. "Would you mind a short detour on our way to my brother's chambers?"

"I would not, if you think it needful."

"I do." He led her through a large sitting room, evidently meant for hosting small gatherings or a private audience, before opening a door on the other end of it, its position on the long wall mirroring that of the doorway on the other end of the room which led into her own apartment. This door in turn led to another series of rooms that echoed the layout of her own new chambers.

"This was the King's Apartment in my father's day, and now in mine. The chambers where you and your ladies are housed is the Queen's Apartment. Until a few days ago, it is where my mother lived ever since her marriage to my father. Upon his death, this floor of the Tower would have been reserved for Cinhil and Alixa's use, but the physicians felt that the upheaval of changing Cinhil's living quarters would be more stress than he should have to deal with, given his health, and Cinhil himself preferred to remain in the rooms where he and Alixa live now."

"Oh!" Catalina stared up at him in consternation. "Then the furniture your mother offered me...are those her furnishings?"

"They are. Though I realize they are at least thirty years behind the current fashion and that you have your own furnishings, so please don't feel that you need to keep them."

"Thank you for telling me. You are correct, I would prefer to keep my own, but now that I understand the situation, I will do my best to turn down her offers more graciously. I didn't realize the items had personal meaning for her. I had thought she had simply found a few extra bedsteads and other furniture in some storage room."

Nicholas stopped briefly in a chamber very similar to the one the two of them had just left. It was furnished as a smaller sitting area, with doors leading to small sleeping chambers on one side of the room and window seats allowing sunlight in from the other side. The layout was the mirror image of Catalina's antechamber.

"Your Don Riordan and Don Salim are housed in this room," he told her as he pointed out one of the doors, "and that door closest to my bedchamber is where my squires will sleep. I hope you don't mind that arrangement. I have few personal retainers, since I don't much like being fussed over, and it didn't seem appropriate to house your gentlemen retainers alongside your ladies, so since there was sleeping space to spare on this side, I figured they would still be reasonably conveniently located for you to find them easily if I assigned them beds here."

"Yes, that should work well, I think. Thank you." She eyed the door at the end of the chamber, guessing that it was the mirror counterpart to the one where she had spent the previous night.

Nicholas gave her a grim smile. "Don't worry, my sweet innocent, I didn't bring you in here to seduce you, more's the pity. Once you enter the room, you'll understand why I didn't have the most restful evening. Unfortunately I'm not entirely certain what to do about it, which is why I thought you might have some ideas that I didn't think of."

"Oh dear, that doesn't sound good at all." Her emerald eyes alight with curiosity, Catalina pushed open the bedchamber door.

#

Catalina entered the King's Bedchamber and found pretty much what she would have expected to find in a royal bedroom–a sumptuously appointed chamber with ornate furnishings of excellent quality and craftsmanship, as indeed these were, although the style was a bit too fussy and overblown for her personal tastes and the dark black-and-gold brocade bed and window curtains gave the room a dark, oppressive feel.

No, on second thought, it wasn't just the curtains. Catalina rolled back her shields and extended her psychic senses. It took her only a split second to identify the problem.

"¡Dios mío!" She stared at Prince Nicholas in shock. "Oh, Colin! Yes, we absolutely must cleanse this chamber. How did your mother think you could ever sleep in here, with the residual energy of your father's death still lingering in the room?"

"In all fairness, I suspect she hasn't been able to bring herself to enter here since his death," Nicholas replied, "and of course the chambermaids wouldn't have sensed anything." He sighed tiredly. "I was so exhausted last night, it took me an unreasonably long time to realize why I was having nightmares about Father's death every time I started to doze off for even a few minutes. I thought at first it was just the idea of lying in the same bed where he took his final breaths, but no, it's more than just the bed itself. I did a cleansing ritual on the mattresses this morning once it occurred to me what had happened, but as you can see, there's still some resonance lingering."

"Yes." Catalina looked around the room again. "I think the psychic imprint is permeating the entire room. Sage would help, not to mention more sunlight. Would your squire Sebastian be sufficiently trained to know how to do a thorough ritual cleansing of the entire space? If not, I am certain Don Riordan and Don Salim would be glad to lend him their assistance, or perhaps a Deryni priest could help–he could bless the chamber in addition to simply dealing with the lingering resonances."

"That would work. I can ask Sebastian to take care of the cleansing ritual on our way out, then maybe Cam could swing by later this evening to bless the space."

"Perhaps once the room has been fully cleansed, you would prefer to move the furniture from your previous apartment here and store these pieces elsewhere instead? Or are your previous apartment's furnishings not to your taste?"

"Oh no, those would be fine. Better, in fact." He briefly shared a mental picture of a chamber that was furnished in an elegant but far less fussy style, with bed hangings in a vibrant shade of blue. "I suppose I could move those furnishings in here. Honestly, I've spent so much time away from Rhemuth in recent years, I tend to forget I have an apartment here also." Catalina sensed the moment he realized the awkwardness of admitting to his future wife that he was in the habit of sleeping elsewhere, but she ignored the slow flush rising in his cheeks as she stepped towards the window to gaze out at the courtyard below.

"I suppose I ought to have Amina cleanse my bedchamber as well. You are not the only one who was plagued with odd dreams last night. I had a few difficulties of my own, though thankfully not as difficult to endure as what you must have suffered." She turned away from the window and spotted a small alcove opposite it, containing a paneled door.  "Is that the passage that connects our bedchambers?"

"Yes." Nicholas walked over to the door and gave the handle an experimental twist. "I think your Lady Amina has locked it from the other side."

Catalina laughed. "Yes, most likely. You might need to fight your way past her on our wedding night."

"Sweet Jesú!" Colin looked stricken as he belatedly grasped the implications. "While I was lying awake all night trying not to dream about my dying father, you were visited by visions of his conjugal visits, weren't you?"

"Well, not exactly visions, thank God, more just very vague impressions than anything else, but let's just say the resulting dreams were...educational, if far more than I ever wanted to be instructed on the joys of wedded bliss by my own parents-by-marriage. Maybe we should go visit your brother and leave both bedchambers for our staff to sort out?"

"Yes! That's an entirely different sort of nightmare I don't ever wish to imagine!" He escorted Catalina out of the chamber quickly, stopping only briefly on their way out to request his squire's assistance with the ritual cleansing of both bedchambers before continuing on their way to Cinhil's apartment.

#

January 24, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Late Morning

One of the King's guardsmen escorted the Prince and Princess into King Cinhil's private apartment, announcing their arrival before withdrawing discreetly. Queen Alixa, looking a bit more at ease than when Nicholas had last seen her, entered the antechamber to greet them. This time she remembered to extend her hand first and accept their reverences as was her due, though Nicholas noted she still flicked a brief, anxious glance up at him afterwards as if checking to see if she had done everything correctly. He gave her a reassuring smile and a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, sister. May I present my lady, the Princess...Catherine? Catalina?" Nicholas suddenly realized he didn't know what she would prefer to be called amongst family.

The Princess laughed. "I am perfectly fine with either, although it might take me a little while to remember to respond when I am called 'Catherine,' since I am not yet accustomed to hearing it. But I should grow used to it, since that is what your people will know me by."

Alixa's expression brightened. "Ah! In that case, we shall call you 'Catherine,' at least until you have grown more accustomed to hearing it. Though after that, if you decide you would prefer to be called 'Catalina' in private, that would be perfectly understandable, just as Nicholas prefers to be called 'Colin' amongst the family since that was what he was called since his tender years."

"Among other things," a voice called out from the inner chamber, "though Colin wouldn't thank me for telling his lady some of the other things I used to call him."

"Used to?" Colin joked back as Alixa escorted them into the King's presence, giggling at the siblings' banter.

#

Princess Catalina dropped into a deep, respectful curtsey as she was escorted into the presence of the King of Gwynedd. As she rose, she covertly studied the young man reclining on the State Bed before her. She could easily see the resemblance between King Cinhil and her husband-to-be, though while Colin was at the peak of health, his older brother appeared to be a paler, more careworn copy of him. Despite that, she sensed that Gwynedd's King had a great deal of inner strength that went far beyond the mere physical.

"Welcome to my Court, Catalina of Andelon, such as it is, anyway. We were informed last night of the unusual circumstances of your arrival. I am very sorry that you encountered such difficulties along the way, but at least we have you and your entourage here safely now. The Queen has been working with my sisters this morning to collect some clothing and other items for your use until your belongings arrive. Is there anything else that you need while you are taking this time to get settled in?"

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am certain that whatever they have collected will be sufficient for needs in the meantime until the ships arrive. The Queen Mother has also been trying to help us get things squared away in the new apartment."

Cinhil chuckled, "Yes, I imagine whether or not you require her assistance, she will insist that you have it. Please don't feel hesitant to speak up about your own preferences should you ever feel the need to. Maman is not the sort to heed gentle hints, so you might need to be more direct. And if that fails to get the point across, let me know and I'll have a quiet word with her." With a teasing look at his brother, he added "A quiet word, mind, Col. Not a shouting match."

"Have the two of you broken your fast yet?" Alixa asked shyly, offering up a tray of dainty tarts, bread and soft cheeses, and meat pies. "We've just had a small meal brought up, and a similar assortment of foodstuffs is on its way to your entourage also. It's not much, but there is a more festive dinner planned for later tonight to celebrate your arrival."

"We have not eaten yet, or at least I haven't," Catalina answered, glancing towards Nicholas. "Thank you, it all looks very delicious." It also smelled very tasty. She suddenly realized she was ravenous.

The four of them fell to their meal without much conversation for the first minute or two, though once the edge had been taken off their hunger, Cinhil asked, "So, have the two of you settled on a date for the wedding yet? We had the banns cried once the official announcement of your betrothal arrived, and a license has been obtained from the Archbishop, but I didn't know if the two of you wanted a little more time to get acquainted first. Given the time constraints, I don't think we can spare too much extra time, especially with Lent starting early next month, but I realize this is a major change for both of you, and you may need a few more days to feel ready."

"Given that all of my wedding finery and my trousseau are on your caravels, Sire, in addition to what my ladies had planned to wear, I think we will absolutely require those few days at the very least," Catalina said. "I fear I would have a revolution on my hands if they are not able to see me wed wearing the gown they worked so hard to make for me. But I also realize that your kingdom is on the verge of war, and that there is an urgent need for us to wed sooner rather than later and not spend lavishly on the occasion, so I imagine a large wedding of state is out. What sort of ceremony did you have in mind for us?" She glanced towards Nicholas.

Her husband-to-be looked preoccupied and nearly as pale as his brother, but at last he took a deep breath and turned to look fully at her. "Perhaps a quiet ceremony in the Chapel Royal would work best, under the circumstances."

She nodded. She had hoped for more, but was not altogether surprised. "I can see the merits of that, though perhaps there should be some sort of small celebratory event in the City also that your people can participate in, since there won't be a procession or a public ceremony on the Cathedral steps for them to gather for, and a kingdom's people enjoy being included in such major events as a Prince's wedding. Given that your family and kingdom are still in mourning for the late King, it would make sense to the populace that our wedding celebration is not especially lavish, but it might seem strange to them if there was no public celebration at all. "

"It would seem stranger still to them if there was not at least a public wedding on the Cathedral steps," Alixa said, "since it seems to me that the populace might wonder if Colin was trying to hide his new bride out of sight. They would wish to know what she looks like, at least. But given that we are still in mourning, I think they would understand if there is no large procession, and if we all return to the Chapel Royal for a private Mass after the vows have been exchanged. I think the idea of a small celebratory event for the people of Rhemuth to participate in is a good one, but I'm afraid I can't think of the best way to address that. I've never planned that sort of event.

"We could put Maman on that," Cinhil said to Nicholas. "She excels at planning that sort of thing, and it would keep her occupied and out from under your feet while you're trying to get your rooms and your wedding planned out to your own satisfaction rather than hers."

"At any rate, I imagine the larger focus should be on your Coronation, Your Majesty. When is that planned, and will the Queen be crowned alongside you, or at a later date?" Catalina asked.

Cinhil glanced at his wife with a quiet sigh. "We had the Accession Council in here the day after Father died, and there was a public proclamation as well, but we hadn't actually planned on a Coronation ceremony. The logistics would be a nightmare, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Catalina hesitated. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but given the importance of the event for your people, is the concern simply that you would be unable to participate in a typical public procession to the Cathedral and a long ceremony due to your health issues, or is it more that there would be some difficulties in getting you downstairs and outdoors? Would you be able to manage during warmer weather, if you were carried to the Cathedral in a sedan chair? There is ample precedent for such a means of transportation in a royal procession, after all, and seeing you would reassure your people that you are well enough to rule, even if not at the pinnacle of health. And perhaps the ceremony itself could be modified to fit your needs."

"You have a point," Cinhil said thoughtfully, "and I might be able to manage in a sedan chair, although getting me down the spiral staircase to the courtyard safely to be put in one might be more of a problem."

"I could drop you out the window in a large canvas bucket on the end of a long rope, or just toss you over my shoulder and carry you down the stairs, Cin," Nicholas said with a gleam in his eye. "It's been a few years since you bested me in a wrestling match. I'm pretty sure I could take you now."

The young king grinned. "Don't make me have you arrested for lèse-majesté, Col."

#

January 24, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Early afternoon

They left not long afterwards to allow the King his rest. Nicholas was quiet as he and Catalina descended the spiral staircase leading down to the bailey, although Catalina thought she picked up some faint undercurrents of distress.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Just tired. I'll cope."

Knowing the reason for his present exhaustion, and having seen for herself how ill the young King was, she suspected that the prince was dealing with more than just the usual physical fatigue one would expect after a night with little sleep, but she didn't know what to say that could mitigate his grief, so she said nothing, merely giving his arm a light, sympathetic squeeze.

"He used to be nearly a full head taller than me," Nicholas blurted out. "When we were boys. And he won far more wrestling matches than he ever lost against me." He shook his head angrily. "None of this is bloody fair!"

"You're right, it's not," she said gently.

"He's never going to have a son, is he?" His eyes filled with tears. He blinked rapidly, turning his face towards the brisk breeze blowing through the bailey. "I know it's likely not Alixa's fault, but Cinhil can't get a son to pass his bloodright down to. I have a son I can't pass a bloody thing down to, aside from a small manor that once belonged to his grandfather. My mother copes with pain and disappointment by trying to control all her sons, so now you've been dragged into this whole unholy mess from halfway across the Known World, getting ambushed and nearly killed, just to marry a man you barely know who doesn't even deserve you!"

Catalina gave him a wry smile. "I don't know about that. I'm fairly sure it was just a third of the way across the Known World. If by 'the Known World' you really just mean 'the Eleven Kingdoms.'"

He stared at her for a long moment, then gave a reluctant laugh. "I guess that was a little over the top, wasn't it?"

Her smile softened. "A little. Though under the circumstances, perfectly understandable. Do you feel better now that you've got that out of your system?"

He sighed. "As I said, I'll cope."

"Maybe you can introduce me to your sisters, then slip away and get some proper rest in your old apartment. Someone can wake you in time for the feast if you're still sleeping by then."

"That's not the worst of ideas. But I told Alixa I would show you the Royal Chapel, so we can stop there first along the way. Camber is likely to be there this time of day, so that will give you the chance to meet him also."

#

January 24, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The Chapel Royal
Early afternoon


Catalina entered the door Nicholas opened for her, stepping inside quickly to get out of the brisk outdoors, which was chillier than she was accustomed to. Passing through the narthex as the door closed behind her, she entered the nave and stifled a gasp of wonder. Sunlight streaming through the tall stained glass windows turned the carved stone and marble surfaces around her into a kaleidoscope of color. Beyond a magnificent rood screen, looking into the apse, she could glimpse the gleam of golden candelabra behind the altar. She could sense the sacredness of the space, which eased her soul and gave her a sense of peace in the midst of this storm of sudden change she found herself in.

A motion caught her eye, and she looked to one side to see a young priest with his back turned towards her, rising from a prie-dieu. He genuflected, then turned to face her with a smile of greeting. "You must be my new sister-to-be," he said as he approached her with a shallow bow.

Judging from his features, which strongly resembled those of the two men she had just spent the earlier part of her morning with, she had to assume he was correct. She gave him a small curtsey in return. "You are Prince Camber?" she asked.

"Guilty as charged." Gray eyes smiled down at her from a face that looked more boyish than either of his brothers, framed with hair that had been cropped shorter than either of theirs, but he was unmistakably a Haldane despite those slight differences in appearance.

Catalina turned, startled to notice that Nicholas had not followed her into the main body of the chapel, but was still standing in the narthex, just inside the door they'd entered through, looking around the large space with a curiously wistful expression. Noticing her looking back at him, he summoned up a strained smile, giving his younger brother a brief half-wave of greeting.

"I'm pretty sure he could step foot in the nave without lightning striking him dead," Camber muttered quietly, "but since he still seems inclined to be stubborn about it, I suppose we should join him instead." He gave her a wry smile as he gestured up the aisle towards the entrance.

Catalina glanced back at the priest curiously, but this did not seem the best time to inquire what he meant. At any rate, it didn't seem like there was any bad feeling between the brothers, judging by the hearty hug they exchanged.

Nicholas whispered something as he held his brother close. Camber scrubbed at his own face with his free hand, a frustrated expression flitting across his features as he softly uttered something that sounded almost to Catalina's ears like a muttered expletive she was certain she must have misheard, given its source. Camber released his brother, swiftly crossing the short distance back to Catalina's side. "My lady, if you wouldn't mind waiting in the nave for just a few minutes, I need a few moments alone with my numbskull of a brother," he whispered.

Baffled, Catalina took a seat on a bench beside one of the walls, glancing over at the brothers from time to time as they quietly conversed. She could not hear their conversation, or at least her sense of courtesy and fair play would not permit her to extend her Deryni senses to listen in on what was clearly a very private and distressing interaction for them both.

At the end of several long minutes, she saw Nicholas lean back against the wall beside the entrance, sinking to the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest. He rested his head in one hand, staring at the floor blankly.

Alarmed, she watched his brother's swift return to her side. The younger prince sank onto the other side of the bench beside her, cupping the top of his head in his hands briefly as if he meant to prevent it from exploding before steepling his fingers and pressing them against his lips, sitting there for an agonizing moment in silence before tilting his head to look at her.

"Congratulations, my lady, I fear you are getting the most scrupulous Prince in the Eleven Kingdoms for a husband, at least if he hasn't already managed to scare you screaming back to Andelon in search of an annulment." He took a deep breath, letting it out in a ragged huff. "How do I even begin to explain this?" Dropping his clasped hands into his lap, he stared at them as if they had suddenly become the most fascinating hands in the world. "So, Colin tells me that he has already informed you about Melisande."

"The mother of his children?" Catalina nodded. "Yes."  She hadn't known the woman's name until now. This new, unasked-for level of knowledge felt like a sharp spike piercing deep into her heart, though she kept her feelings well shielded from the man beside her, well aware that he would never have let the name slip had he known she was unaware of it, and not willing to add fresh guilt to his evident upset.

"He has just informed me that he does not feel he is in the necessary spiritual condition to enter the Church, much less partake of the Mass," Camber said carefully, attempting to feel his way through this difficult but necessary conversation. "Which is an issue for...well, as you're well aware, for a variety of reasons, but in this particular case the Mass is an essential part of the wedding ceremony."

Catalina frowned in thought. "Maybe he could speak to his confessor about his reservations...." A sudden awful thought occurred to her. "Oh!" She stared at Nicholas' brother in alarm. "He is likely going off to war in just a few months! He will be in mortal danger! Please, please tell me it has not been years since his last confession!"  As Camber's hesitant expression silently confirmed her worst fears, she glanced back over at Nicholas, aghast. "Dios mio, Father, I don't know whether to try to offer him comfort or to slap him!"

"You'll need to queue up," Camber agreed drily. "I have assured him that he can at least fully enter the church building without calling divine retribution down upon his head, even if he isn't currently in full communion with the Church."

"He is not excommunicated, is he?"

"Officially?" Camber shook his head. "No. Though I suppose his actions could be considered a form of self-excommunication."

"And the issue is not a lack of belief?"

"No. No, far from that." The priest sighed. "The problem is more that he believes too strongly, if such a thing is even possible. What you must understand about my brother is that he has a keen sense of honor and integrity. He also has a strong moral code which, while it might not be fully aligned with the Church's teachings on moral behavior, is still a moral compass he considers to be inviolable. When he entered into his relationship with Melisande, the order of his actions might have left much to be desired, but his intentions towards her were honorable. He believed at the time that they would be allowed to marry, if not immediately, then at least someday, and he was too naïve in his younger years to understand all of the potential repercussions. Now that circumstances have changed, he has many regrets, but...."

"But regret is not the same thing as repentance, and without true penitence, absolution is impossible." Catalina buried her face in her hands. "He means to be faithful, doesn't he? As much as he is able to, anyway. I understood he was only marrying me for obligations of state, and I was prepared to accept that, knowing it was possible he would not keep faith with me and might eventually return to his paramour once I gave him heirs. Except in my own naïveté, I didn't grasp the entire picture." She looked back up at him. "Colin's vow of fidelity is to her, to the woman he considers to be his true wife." She gave a mirthless laugh. "Yes, do congratulate me, Father, because this is truly a day for wonders. I think the most scrupulous Prince in the Eleven Kingdoms means to make me the world's only virgin adulteress. ¡Madre del Amor Hermoso!"

#

Well, this day was turning into a bloody nightmare. Camber could not imagine how the situation could possibly be salvaged. Sweet Jesú, his mother would kill him for what he was about to say, but he couldn't in good conscience not offer this poor woman a way out.

"If you feel you need to ask for an annulment...." His voice trailed off as the young woman before him swiftly shook her head, looking up at him with damp eyes but a resolute expression.

"Thank you, Father, but no. I have a duty to your kingdom not simply to bear heirs, but also as a peaceweaver. That is the traditional role of a queen, which I might not yet be, but which seems inevitable will happen all too soon. Far too much of importance hinges on this alliance for me to back out of it just because the duty is difficult. King Torval is greedy for the kingdoms on this side of the Southern Sea. Meanwhile, King Renier of Joux appears to be hiring mercenaries now, perhaps with the aim of expanding his territory to the size it was in his grandfather's day, before the Hort reclaimed his suzerainty over them. In theory, Renier's ambitions are somewhat neutralized by his relationship to your Queen, but in actuality he cares more about his hunting hounds than any of his daughters. Perhaps Nicholas is hurting too deeply right now to see the bigger picture, but he must be made to." Her thoughts whirled. "What if he were simply to tell his confessor that he repents of...whatever he feels he can genuinely repent of, and then makes a vow that he will remain true to me until we have an heir? Or until the war is over? Some finite period so he will not feel he is being forced to give his amour up forever, but that he feels he can live up to, during which time he can fully focus on what we must do together to make the kingdom more secure? Because if Gwynedd should fall, it is only a matter of time until the Eleven Kingdoms as a whole are weakened as well. Even if I did not care enough to wed with Gwynedd's heir for Gwynedd's sake, I would wed him for the sake of Andelonia. We need unity, Camber, not division."

The priest breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "I agree. I just hope Nicholas can be convinced to see things the same way."

#

Catalina returned to the narthex and joined Nicholas where he sat, still in the same place and hopeless posture. At first he barely seemed to register her presence, but then he slowly lifted his gaze to hers before closing his eyes in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I don't think I can do this. And you deserve so much more than what I am able to give you."

She reached for his hand. "I do," she agreed quietly, "but I think we have a bigger problem than that."

His eyes shot open, startled by her response. "What could possibly be a bigger problem than that?"

She continued to hold his hand, dispassionately noting how the small rubies in her betrothal ring echoed those set in the Haldane Lion ring on the hand she held. She stroked the pad of her thumb over the surface of his ring, drawing his attention to it. "Whether or not we marry, you still have Torval hungering for your kingdom and a need for allies and funding for your levies, not to mention your need for heirs. I still have Renier of Joux, wanting me for whatever reasons of his own he might have, whether to force my hand in marriage to Rémy, or simply to exact vengeance on me for refusing his son, or maybe to hold me for ransom to coerce my father into supporting his ambitions, who can say?" She shrugged. "The fact of the matter is, you may not particularly want a wife, and I did not particularly wish to enter a loveless union, but we need each other. Do we not?"

Looking somewhat disconcerted by hearing the matter laid out so plainly, Nicholas jerked his head in reluctant agreement. "I guess we do. But...I just don't know how it's going to be possible." He swallowed. "I suppose Camber explained the problem to you."

"Because you can't forsake your lady, and you're not willing to be forsworn to a priest? Yes, I think I understand the gist. Tell me, Colin, that day we spoke in my father's garden in Andelon, did I ever ask you to give up the woman you love, or just not to bring any other woman into your bed?"

He sighed. "You needn't worry about other women. And no, you never said I had to turn from her completely. Just that you hoped I would stay true to our marriage long enough to give you an heir first. But you know a priest isn't going to absolve me of my relationship with a woman I'm not wed to in the eyes of Holy Church if he knows I don't intend to give her up forever."

Catalina shook her head. "Well, certainly, if you go in there saying 'Father, bless me, for I have sinned and intend to pick up where I left off in three months,' he might have more than a few difficulties with considering that as true penitence!" She took a deep breath. "All right, is there anything else that you think you could confess and feel genuine repentance for?"

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. "Many things. I repent that my actions are hurting you. I repent that they have hurt her and will continue to do so for the rest of her life, because I was too stupid to understand how she would be affected by my love for her. I repent being the cause of anger and disappointment to my family. But I don't see how I could have done otherwise." Tears began to leak from his closed eyelids, turning his long lashes spiky. "Father was going to marry her off. It was a good offer, he was trying to do right by her, but she didn't know the man, and she was terrified. And I loved her. I couldn't let him...."

Catalina, seeing the heartbroken sixteen-year-old youth in the devastated man sitting next to her, pulled him into her arms, holding him close as he took a shuddering breath, attempting to rein in his emotions. "Oh, Colin! Sweet Jesú, I know. I know how it feels to love someone with all your heart and have to let them go. That is why I didn't ask it of you. You already have so much to bear."

She realized in that moment, as he pulled away slightly, opening his eyes to look at her, that she had been far more transparent with him than she'd meant to be. She hoped he wouldn't take her words too literally, would just assume she was attempting to comfort him with kind words rather than as an admission that her heart belonged to another. But as his thoughtful gaze swept her face, she suspected that he had registered the true meaning of her words.

#

Even with tears in her eyes and a nose slightly reddened from crying, sweet Jesú she was beautiful! He was angry with himself for noticing, and also absurdly angry with her for some reason he couldn't even fathom. It couldn't be jealousy, he was certain, because he didn't even love her. He didn't have room for another woman in his heart besides Melisande. Certainly he had come to like this Andelonian enigma, and his admiration had turned to deep respect in the few days that he had known her. He felt fortunate in the extreme that she was willing to be his consort; she would make an excellent Queen someday. And as much as he hated to admit it, even just to himself, he found her physically attractive, which ought to please him if he was expected to father heirs with this woman, but she was almost too tempting for his comfort.

He'd had a few short dalliances before he had fallen in love with Melisande, mere meaningless couplings with willing serving girls whose faces he couldn't even recall anymore. They had been nothing more than the fumblings of a curious youth struggling with the newly discovered stirrings of young manhood. He hadn't thought of them in years, because ever since he had chosen Melisande, he had never felt truly tempted to stray. He was well aware now that there was a difference between mere stirrings of the body and genuine love of the heart, and he hadn't wished to settle for the lesser pleasure once he had learned of the greater one.

He knew, whoever it was that Catalina had loved and given up, she had not given herself to him in that way. It would have been impossible, given her strict chaperonage, even if she'd been inclined to disobedience and less diligent in her duty to her House. So why her admission should sting so much, he had no idea. Maybe it was just that in the few days of their acquaintance, he had learned to be protective of her.

It was a puzzle he couldn't spare the time or energy for right now.

"What would you have me do, Catherine?" A subtle reminder that she belonged to him now. Not premeditated, but feeling stung, it was instinct to sting back.

"Maybe you could tell your confessor what you just told me," she said quietly, either not registering the possessive nature of his use of her Gwyneddan name, or simply ignoring it. "And if you can bring yourself to do so, maybe add that you intend to leave off visiting your paramour to focus on our marriage, not just to get an heir but also to prepare your soul for the war to come. He will quite rightly be concerned that your spiritual well being should be cared for with such a risk to your physical safety in the near future, so under those conditions I think he would be all too happy to grant you absolution. If, at some later date, you happen to lapse back into your former ways, well, it is in the nature of man to lapse. I'm sure your confessor is well accustomed to human frailty. If he is willing to absolve you under such conditions, then you will be able to partake of the Mass when we wed."

"And if he does not?"

"Then you can still come forward, kneel at the altar, cross your arms over your chest, and let the Archbishop bless you," Cam said. Nicholas looked up, startled, having forgotten his brother was there. "All Maman is likely to notice is you kneeling there looking like a properly obedient son of the Church. That should be enough to keep her from wanting to kill you."

Nicholas laughed. "You'd think the horror of having an unconfessed son would prevent her from wanting that."

"No, brother, that's likely the only reason you're still alive!" Cam shook his head.




Next chapter:  https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3210.0.html

[DerynifanK]

My goodness what a tangle. One has to wonder if anyone will come out of this alive and intact, physically not to mention emotionally. I can see why it totally absorbed you. Thank you for the new chapter. Today is my birthday and this was a perfect present.

[Evie]

My goodness what a tangle. One has to wonder if anyone will come out of this alive and intact, physically not to mention emotionally. I can see why it totally absorbed you. Thank you for the new chapter. Today is my birthday and this was a perfect present.

Happy Birthday!  I hope you have a very good one.

[DerynifanK]

Ingrid seems to be a formidable lady. I wonder if she will find out about his intentions towards her son and how she will respond.

[revanne]

You have laid out some of the threads very nicely, it will be interesting to see who are the spiders and who are the flies.

[Evie]

Ingrid seems to be a formidable lady. I wonder if she will find out about his intentions towards her son and how she will respond.

Yeah, that'll make for an interesting relationship, won't it? 

[Evie]

You have laid out some of the threads very nicely, it will be interesting to see who are the spiders and who are the flies.

"Come into my parlor," said the spider to the fly....  *rubs all four pairs of hands together gleefully*

[JudithR]

This just gets better...

[Evie]

This just gets better...

Oh, it will get worse also. At least the events will; hopefully not the story! 

[DerynifanK]

I think Torval may have bitten off more than he can chew, at least I hope so.

[Evie]

I think Torvil may have bitten off more than he can chew, at least I hope so.

That's certainly possible. Though it's also possible that these two aren't even the most despicable villains who might turn up in this story. But yeah, they might still win a few award medals for effort....

[Demercia]

Given that Ingrid thinks that being Christian produces weak women, she has clearly never met Catalina! It's only chapter 6 and I have already used up my box of tissues!

[Evie]

Given that Ingrid thinks that being Christian produces weak women, she has clearly never met Catalina! It's only chapter 6 and I have already used up my box of tissues!

I could just lock Ingrid and Catalina in a room together and let them sort out which one is stronger....  (Though honestly, that could be a pretty close match! I would hate to get on the bad side of either one.)

Here's a thought. You and @revanne might consider investing in some Kleenex tissues stock to help supplement your future retirement pensions.... 

[revanne]

It's only chapter 6 and I have already used up my box of tissues!

Here's a thought. You and @revanne might consider investing in some Kleenex tissues stock to help supplement your future retirement pensions.... 

I'm not that posh. I use kitchen roll.

[Evie]

It's only chapter 6 and I have already used up my box of tissues!

Here's a thought. You and @revanne might consider investing in some Kleenex tissues stock to help supplement your future retirement pensions.... 

I'm not that posh. I use kitchen roll.

😂