Princess of silence, p.5
Princess of Silence, page 5
Last night, however, the ending had been different. In this dream, as Matthew had sobbed, his head buried in Maggie’s still chest, he heard a gasp. He’d looked at her face, and her green eyes had started to flutter.
Unfortunately, that is where it had ended. With the unexpected movement of her eyelids, and a peek at those emerald orbs, he’d been jarred awake.
Matthew rubbed his swollen face, the pain from the gash in his head reminding him not only that he was still a prisoner but of yesterday’s events. He tenderly felt the wound, still wrapped in one of the cloths his angelic visitor had brought. It still hurt, but it was no longer bleeding. He decided to replace the cloth and dug one out of the mattress, shaking off as much debris as possible. Removing the old bandage caused a bit of fresh bleeding from where the scab had connected to the cloth, and he grimaced as it tore free. His head was swimming, so once the new bandage was in place, he took deep breaths and leaned back against the stone wall.
The little book of poetry had fallen on the floor. He had placed it on the large, out-of-place bookshelf the night before, but now it was turned upside down near a splatter of blood on the stone. With his head still spinning, he carefully stepped across the room, bending down slowly to pick up the book. As he brought it back to rest on the shelf again, he noticed that the shelves were extremely shallow. This was strange for such a large piece of furniture. Though he had been in this room for six months, he had never really paid attention to the structure of the colossal piece.
Matthew wiggled the bookshelf . It was heavy, but it was not attached to the wall at all as he’d assumed it would be. Puzzled, Matthew attempted to scoot it away from the wall, but there was not much room in the tight quarters. He was able to move it forward slightly and noticed that the side was about a foot deeper than the width of the shelf.
As he studied the unit, an idea formed in his mind. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Matthew found himself praying. “God, if you’re up there, if you do exist, would you please send that angel back to me again today?” If the person who’d brought the gifts yesterday returned, perhaps he could request a few items to help him with the plan forming in his head.
While he was praying, he might as well mention Maggie. He said a prayer for her soul. If he could find a way to make this plan work, perhaps he wouldn’t be joining her quite as soon as he’d been expecting.
King Caleb of Arteria had only dozed off a few hours ago. The rapping on his door brought him around quickly, but his initial thoughts were that his men were under attack. Sitting up and wiping at his eyes, he recalled he was home, within the walls of Castle Caine, no longer camped in the rolling hills of Glendor across the Arterian Lake. Shaking his head, he reached for a robe and pulled it on as another knock landed on the door.
Caroline’s eyes were wide, her gray hair coming loose from her hairpins. “It’s happened!” she said in a sharp whisper.
Not sure what to say, Caleb belted his robe tighter and followed her out into the hallway. Caroline was spry for her age, but she took the narrow, winding staircase more carefully than he would’ve liked. Caleb did his best to stay patient as they made their way to the back of the castle, to the private room where their most precious guest had been accommodated for many months.
His caretaker pushed open the door, and they both stepped in to see the physician, Russell, leaning over the bed. On the other side of the room, two servant girls quietly went about setting up a tray of water and what looked like soup. A breeze stirred the white canopy atop the bed, and the snowy fabric billowed as if announcing life had returned to the room.
Slowly, Caleb took a few steps forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. He felt Caroline’s hand resting assuredly on his arm. She was right; it had happened. A wave of relief washed over him, and a genuine smile lit his face. He had waited so long for this moment, and it was finally here. He could hardly believe he was finally looking into those blinking emerald green eyes.
Katherine was up before the sun. She had tried to sleep, but it had failed her. Since there were better ways to use her time than lying in bed, tossing and turning, dozing off, and being jarred violently awake by dreams of nasty remembrances, she’d tried to do a little reading in her room by candlelight, but her mind had kept drifting off. The interaction with Philip the night before had left her shaken, so she tried not to think of him at all.
Instead, she’d let her mind wander to thoughts of King Matthew. Though she’d only spent a few moments with the Zurconian king, he seemed such a contrast to her malevolent betrothed. The fact that he was being held against his will was so unfair and served as further evidence that Philip was a horrid man.
She knew she would pay Matthew another visit as soon as the king left his castle. She had heard Philip say something about riding out to inspect the lines today, and she was hopeful that he would take both Edward and Cuthburt with him. The idea that she could sneak into the rooms of those two nasty scoundrels and mete out some punishment on them seemed intriguing, but she knew she would not be capable of causing the type of injuries they deserved so she gave up the thought. Once she’d seen Joan stirring, she’d decided it must be close to daylight and headed out into the hall.
The castle was quiet, indicating that everyone was still slumbering or had left for the day. Looking out the window, she could see that the sun was just beginning to climb above the horizon. Katherine decided to take a walk out to the stable to see if Philip’s horse was still there. She was fairly certain she could hide among the animals without him even knowing she was there, should that be necessary.
It wasn’t. Philip must have gotten over his inebriation rather quickly that morning because, by the time Katherine reached the stables, his giant black stallion was gone. The stalls that usually held the horses ridden by Edward and Charles were also vacant. She had no idea where Cuthburt would’ve kept his horse, but she imagined he was gone as well. The princess felt assured she could return to the tower without anyone of consequence noticing. A few stable boys bustled past, but none of them seemed to notice her. With a mischievous grin on her face, Katherine went about fetching the items she would take to the captive king.
Chapter 7
Upon reaching the door at the top of the secret stairwell, Katherine hesitated. All morning, while she had been collecting the items she’d brought with her, she’d thought about the possibility of actually seeing the king for herself. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt compelled to lay eyes on the man who’d suffered so much. Rumors of his wife’s murder had reached even as far as Nadoria. In moments when she’d found herself pitying her own situation, reflecting upon Matthew’s plight had helped her to find perspective. He’d been so grateful to her the day before, even though she’d done little in the scheme of things. Katherine wanted to do more but wasn’t sure how she might without Philip catching on. It was a risky game she played. Still, a glimpse of his face would make it all seem even more worthwhile.
Katherine tapped lightly on the door. A fluttering of pages let her know she’d been heard. This time, she waited for him to open the slot, which he did promptly. “Who is there?” he whispered. She could tell by the projection of his voice that he was peering through the narrow slit. Glancing down at the bloody spot on the floor, she decided to fold up a piece of cloth and cover it, rather than attempting to clean it. Spreading out her skirts, Katherine lowered herself down to the ground and saw a dirty hand holding up the small flap—and a pair of dark brown eyes, wide with curiosity.
“Ah, I see by your gown that my angel is a lady. Good morrow. How do you do? I have been hoping that you would return.”
Unable to reply, Katherine only smiled, glad to see he was in a jovial mood. He sat down on the floor on the other side of the door, leaning forward, and Katherine got a better view of him. He was as handsome as she had heard, even in his filthy and disheveled state. His dark hair was bloody, and his face was streaked with the same crimson, along with grime from being trapped in the same small room with no clean water for so long. Still, his smile was friendly, and Katherine instantly liked him.
“What is your name?” Matthew asked, his eyes moving up and down as he attempted to see as much of her as he could through the slot.
Katherine wanted to answer his questions but simply couldn’t. Looking down at her folded hands, she fidgeted with the signet ring she always wore, the one with her family crest. Perhaps, if she showed him the ring, he would be able to figure out her identity. But, then again, it might be best if he didn’t know the truth. If it were ever discovered that someone had been paying him visits, she would rather no one knew it was her.
Katherine looked up from her ring, met his eyes, and smiled again, not sure how to answer his question.
“You’re shy then?” he asked, one corner of his mouth pulling up farther than the other. “Very well. You don’t have to speak. My name is Matthew.”
The kindness in his voice made Katherine’s smile widen. She nodded, not sure if he could see, attempting to let him know she was aware of who he was.
“Thank you so very much for the gifts you brought yesterday. Your gesture was greatly appreciated, especially the food. I hope that you didn’t get in any sort of trouble on my account.”
Katherine shook her head and heard him sigh in relief.
“Good, good! I’m so glad that you’ve come back today!”
Again, Katherine signaled back with a nod. She realized he was probably hungry, so she opened the basket she’d brought and lifted it for him to see before sliding the first thinly sliced piece of apple through the slot.
Matthew accepted it graciously, taking every piece she offered. “Thank you so much!” he exclaimed. “Apples are my favorite!” He placed the first slice directly into his mouth. The sweet juice rolled down his chin, and he giggled like a little boy. Katherine joined in his laughter as she continued to hand him her gifts.
The princess had been able to procure some salted ham from the morning meal preparations, as well as a loaf of bread and even a spot of jam. She slipped the bounty through the slot as carefully as possible, and Matthew made a little pile next to the door. Next, she handed through some blank paper, thinking he might want to get his thoughts down or that he might want to try to send a letter to his brother. She would have to find someone she could trust to serve as courier—and that would be extremely risky. She knew she would not be able to pass an ink well through the tiny slot, so she had brought some charcoal from the fire, thinking he could use that to write with. Lastly, she had brought some fresh water. This part was going to be the trickiest. She was not exactly sure how to get it to him or if he even had a container to put it in, but she wanted to try. Katherine held the canteen up to the slot, hoping he could see what it was.
“Water?” he asked, his voice rising with excitement. “Oh, my! The boys who bring my gruel carry a small plate of water to refill this tiny cup once every few days, but it is often putrid, as if it had been used to wash dishes. Of course, I drink it because I am constantly thirsty.” He was still eating and paused to swallow. Katherine watching him intently. “On a rainy day, I’ll often stick the cup out the window, or even my tongue, for that matter, hoping to catch a drop or two.”
Unable to imagine what it must be like to go that long without clean water, Katherine only stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open, before she realized what she was doing and closed it abruptly.
“Let me see,” Matthew said, grabbing the cup from the floor next to his bed. She could see dirty dishes as well. “If we had some way of making a channel for it to flow through....” He looked around the room, but she imagined he wouldn’t find anything.
It wasn’t necessary. Katherine had brought something she hoped would work; a thick stem from a ginger plant. Pulling a knife from the basket, she cut the stem in half, forming a flat surface with rounded sides to pour the water through the slit.
Matthew laughed. “You’re a genius!” He eagerly held the small silver cup up to the end of the stem as Katherine carefully poured fresh water down the makeshift canal and into the container. Once it was filled, Matthew gulped it down, careful not to spill a drop. Katherine refilled it several times until the canteen was empty.
The king made a small noise in his throat when she indicated the water was gone. “This is the first time I can remember my tongue not being stuck to the roof of my mouth.” She smiled and made a mental note to bring even more water next time.
Katherine felt more comfortable with her decision to continue to pay Matthew daily visits. She’d been sitting there for nearly an hour, and no one had opened the door at the bottom of the steps. If someone should come up, she had noticed a small alcove on the other side of the railing next to the stairs where she should be able to hunker down undetected.
There were no windows in the hallway, but the arrow slits in Matthew’s chamber would allow him to see King Philip returning to the castle. It might be difficult to let Matthew know that he needed to be mindful of the king’s return, but she thought she could stay for a while longer, though it would help if he knew to warn her of Philip’s arrival. Matthew clearly liked having someone to chat with, and she wanted to stay for as long as possible. He was fascinating, almost like a character out of one of her books. There had to be some way to let him know to warn her if Philip came back.
“Well, now,” Matthew said, settling down next to the door and sliding a piece of charcoal into the slot to hold the flap open so that he would not have to. “If you won't tell me your name, perhaps I could guess it.”
Katherine smiled, doubting he would be able to.
“No? You don’t think that I am capable of guessing your name?”
She shook her head.
“I see! I’ve been challenged.” Chewing on a piece of ham, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This is delicious, by the way. Would you like some?”
Katherine shook her head. How kind was he to offer his food when he was starving, and she was free to eat as much as she liked whenever she liked?
“All right then. You have lovely blue eyes. What color is your hair?” Katherine held a loose lock of hair up to the slot so that he could see. “Oh, red, I see. How beautiful!” Her cheeks lit on fire, and she dropped her hand, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “Hmmm, perhaps your name is... Scarlet?”
Katherine shook her head, laughing. It was a decent guess, though.
“Not Scarlet. Anything to do with having red hair?” Again, the answer was no. “All right. Well, it’s probably not Bluey, so I’m assuming it has nothing to do with having blue eyes either then?”
The princess giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. He had an odd sense of humor, but she appreciated the fact that he could be light-hearted under the circumstances.
“No? Not related to your eye color? Well, then, I shall guess names until I am correct. How about Myrtle?” Katherine’s body vibrated with laughter. “No? Something less hideous then? Perhaps your name is Grace or Mary?” Again, she shook her head. “Nothing biblical?” He sighed. “Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps I’m not skilled at guessing names. I suppose I’ll just have to give you a new name then. How about….” He paused in thought, and then his eyes lit up as it came to him. “How about Angel?”
Her lips curled into a smile. What a lovely compliment—he thought of her as if she were an angel. She nodded enthusiastically.
“Angel it is then!” he proclaimed. “Now, my sweet Angel, shall I try to guess your station?”
Her eyes bulged, the smile fading. Frantically, she shook her head back and forth.
“No? You don’t want me to discover that you are the Queen of Clovington?”
Katherine felt her breath catch in her throat. How did he know? What had given her away?
Matthew leaned back, tipping his head to the ceiling. “No, Queen-Mother Agnes is likely too old and frail to climb the stairs.”
Again, Katherine laughed, sighing in relief that he hadn’t truly figured her out. Philip’s mother was bed-ridden, stashed away in a room somewhere on the other side of the castle. She kept to herself, and the king hardly mentioned her. Agnes was no longer the queen since her husband had passed, but many people still referred to her as Queen Agnes as a sign of respect. Katherine had met her only once, and her disposition was almost as nasty as her son’s.
Matthew continued. Leaning forward again, he peered through the slit. “I can discern by your gown that you are not a chambermaid or a serving wench. I am certain you are nobility. Perhaps someday you will tell me all about your adventures and what it is like to live on the other side of this door.”
Again, Katherine looked down at her hands, twirling her ring around her finger. Perhaps someday she would be able to tell him. But not today, and not in the near future. The thought of speaking had crossed her mind from time to time over the years, but she had always suppressed it. There was no way to un-speak the last utterance that had come out of her mouth, and she was unable to bear the thought of ever causing such devastation again. The likelihood of Katherine ever speaking another word was almost as minuscule as the possibility that King Matthew would someday walk out of his prison cell a free man.
“You know, I wasn’t always the dashing rogue you see before you.” Matthew’s voice brought her mind out of the past. He seemed jovial to have someone to talk to, even if she could not talk back. “Oh, no, before I became the ruler of this lavish villa, I lived a completely different life.” Katherine could hear the longing in his voice as he reflected on his home in Zurconia. She imagined he wanted his freedom, to see his friends and family, more than anything. If he wished to talk about it, she would gladly listen.
