The Vow (5 page)
“Why?” I whispered again, as I had a hundred times already. “Why them? Why now?”
But as before, God was silent. Perhaps what people were saying was true. Perhaps the plague had been a divine punishment.
I’d been informed that the plague had wiped out a quarter of the town. The reports of the dead having been piled in carts and dumped into mass graves had horrified me. Even worse were the reports that dozens of children had lost their fathers and mothers.
That last news had sobered me, had made me realize I wasn’t the only one who’d lost parents, that I wasn’t the only one grieving. But I also knew that was as far as the comparison went. I had a massive home, fertile lands, and an abundance of wealth. They had nothing. I had hordes of servants to take care of me. Now they had no one. Many of the orphans would likely be cast out of their homes and into the streets, forced to survive any way they could manage.
Even though I’d wept countless tears over the loss of my parents, I couldn’t complain about my situation when so many others had fared far worse. Deep down, I was actually proud of my parents, for how nobly they’d sacrificed their lives to help their people. I’d heard stories of how my parents had delivered food, clothing, and medicine to the diseased. They’d knelt on
dirt floors, nursed the sick, prayed for the dying, and won the hearts of the people in return.
Although only the nobility and clergy had been allowed inside the church for the funeral, I’d been told that the peasants and craftsmen throughout all of Ashby had traveled miles to pay their respects. They’d stood outside the open doors to listen to the service and say their farewell to the two kind-hearted people who had led them with fairness and benevolence for many years.
“My lady?” Abbot Francis Michael, with his soft tread, had appeared by my side without my noticing him. “I’m only sorry we don’t have a more special resting place for your parents.”
If only they didn’t have to
rest
at all.
“Someday, perhaps with your help, we’ll rectify that.” He gazed around the nave and sighed. “We’ll build a cathedral worthy of your parents and worthy of God’s dwelling.”
I could only nod, my insides too sore to respond.
He studied the interior a moment longer, his thin face reflecting his displeasure, before he turned his skeletal frame toward me. “We should go now, my lady. The people are awaiting you.”
Slowly, I unbent my weak limbs from the chair and stood, the folds of my black mourning gown falling in waves around me. I started to pull down the sheer veil of my head covering, but the abbot stopped me with a touch of his hand.
“Let the people see your face,” he said quietly but firmly. “They’re waiting to get a look at the young lady who will now rule over them.”
I let my hands fall away and tried to still the trembling in my heart.
“Yes, you’re mourning,” the abbot continued, “but you must also show them that you’re compassionate, strong, and capable of leading them.”
I let his words sink in. “You’re right, Father Abbot.” I was
their leader now. It was up to me to comfort them and to show them that I would continue the compassionate reign of my parents. It was up to me to protect and provide for them. And it was up to me to ensure that I produced an heir who would carry on that tradition.
“You’re very wise, Father Abbot,” I said, grateful for his counsel. I must do what I could to find a husband and marry soon. Although I’d hoped for a few more years before marrying, fourteen wasn’t overly young. I’d known of other noblewomen pledging their troth as early as twelve. After the feast I would speak with the abbot further about my future and about the possibility of marriage.
But even as the thought slipped through me, doubts quickly followed. Was it too soon after my parents’ death to even consider it? I’d only just begun to experience the first blossoms of attraction to Lord Caldwell. Was attraction enough of a foundation for marriage? Surely, I needed more time to get to know him before making such an important decision.
With hesitant steps, I started down the long aisle toward the narthex. When a young man emerged from the shadows and stepped into the aisle near the door, I sucked in a startled breath. The evening light fell over him and revealed the angular features and warm brown eyes of Lord Caldwell.
My surprise rapidly changed into pleasure that mingled with embarrassment. I was only glad I hadn’t spoken my thoughts regarding marriage and Lord Caldwell aloud to the abbot, that I’d chosen to keep them hidden for the time being.
I’d noticed the Baron of Caldwell and his wife in passing at the funeral. I’d glimpsed Thomas as well. But the ceremony hadn’t been the time or place to renew my acquaintance with him. But now, with his solid presence before me and the depths of his eyes revealing his sympathy, I had the sudden urge to fly down the rest of the aisle and bury my face against his solid chest.
“I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you,” he said.
“I’m glad you did.” Sudden shyness rooted my feet to the floor.
He took a step toward me then stopped. “My heart breaks for your loss, my lady.”
A knot wound around my throat, preventing me from responding.
“It all happened too fast,” he continued softly. “It seems only yesterday we were all together . . .”
I nodded, thinking back to the week before the outbreak when our families had been happy and alive, riding, hunting, and feasting. If only I’d known then how deadly the plague was, I’d have demanded that my parents seclude themselves with me.
Thomas shifted and glanced to the distance between us as though he wished to close it. But at the sight of the abbot directly behind me, he remained where he was. “I wanted the chance to tell you privately that I’ll do absolutely anything to ease your pain. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
His words sent a flutter of warmth through my stomach. “Thank you, my lord.”
Behind me, the abbot cleared his throat. “I can see that must speak with you about your future, Lady Rosemarie.”
A heated flush stole over me, and I was sure that my face was now as red as a ripe cherry. The very last thing I wanted to do was speak about my future in front of Lord Caldwell.
“I can see that you’re not aware —”
“Please, Father Abbot,” I rushed to silence him. “May we discuss this alone later?”
His brows pinched together, and he regarded me a long moment before finally nodding. “Very well, my lady. But I do think we should converse at your earliest convenience.”
“On the morrow?” I offered, but I didn’t pay attention to his reply, because Lord Caldwell had started down the aisle toward
me. His eyes held mine fast and my heartbeat walloped against my chest, drowning out all but Lord Caldwell’s determined footsteps.
When he reached me, he held out his arm, indicating that he would be my escort. For a brief instant I considered what my people would think if I exited the church on his arm. Would they find reassurance in such a move, knowing that their new ruler would someday potentially partner with a kind and wise man like Thomas?
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, the firmness and surety of his grip giving me the confidence that I needed. As we walked down the aisle to the door, his strength and vitality reminded me that I still had so much of my life ahead of me. My parents might have died, but they wouldn’t have wanted me to be dead in my grief for them. Instead, they would have wanted me to go on living to the fullest.
As we stepped out of the cool stone sanctuary into the summer evening, I was so overcome by the masses of people that waited, I had to stop. For a moment, all that I could do was peer at the crowd, at the weathered faces of people who’d known little but toil their whole lives. The sorrow and despair in the wide eyes that stared back at me stirred my soul with anguish. They’d lost so much over the past couple of weeks, including their beloved leaders.
I could see the questions in their eyes. Even the accusation that I’d never be enough. I was only a girl. How could I take the place of my father and mother? How would I ever have the same wisdom and leadership ability?
Even if I wanted to show them that I would rise to the challenge, I didn’t know that I could. I didn’t have the experience of my parents. What if I never did? What if I made mistakes? Or what if I failed the people completely?
Thomas squeezed my hand, the gentle pressure reminding
me that I wouldn’t have to rule alone. I would have a husband to help me, an equal partnership like what my parents had shared. I might even have Thomas by my side.
It wasn’t until we’d ridden past the last of the massive gathering that I finally breathed deeply again. Several guards rode ahead, their hands on the hilts of their swords, their eyes watchful. The abbot rode behind Thomas and me, close enough that I didn’t want to engage in too much conversation.
The town walls loomed ahead. Beyond the town was the magnificent fortress that now belonged solely to me. I tried desperately not to think about the fact that my mother wouldn’t be there to greet my return ever again. But the thought settled like a damp fog upon my heart.
I rode silently, my head downcast until at last we drew nigh to the town. Our horses clomped down the well-worn dirt path toward the drawbridge, and finally I lifted my head, knowing that as the abbot had instructed I must appear a capable leader to my people.
My gaze landed upon a scene at the entrance of the bridge, and my blood turned to ice. On either side of the embankment, two shirtless men had been laid out on the ground, their arms and legs tied to stakes. Although I abhorred torture as an instrument of discipline and considered it inhumane and barbaric, I knew my father had allowed it from time to time when someone committed a crime severe enough to necessitate such measures. That fact hadn’t frozen me. Rather, it was the severity of the torture, the wide, metal cages lashed to their bare stomachs, which now brought nausea swelling into my throat.
In the cages were rats. Skinny, starving rats with razor-sharp claws and dangerously sharp teeth. From the bloody mass of flesh that had been ripped open on the abdomens of both men, I guessed that the rats had been burrowing for some time.
I looked away as rapidly as I could, but the image was
entrenched into my mind as sharply as an engraving into metalwork. Bile rose, and no amount of willpower or swallowing could keep it down. I leaned over my horse and emptied my stomach in wave after wave.
Around me, over the roaring in my head, I heard Thomas shouting orders to have the tortured men taken away, the clanking of the soldiers as they dismounted, and the abbot’s quiet murmurings of comfort by my side. Somehow I found myself being led over the stone bridge away from the two men.
Even then, the nightmare of what I’d witnessed tortured me.
The sweet waft of roses bathed me, but still
couldn’t drown the stench of bloody flesh that had haunted me since I’d finally arrived in my chambers. My servants had strewn the freshly picked rose petals over the rushes on my floor. They’d even scattered the delicate petals over my dressing table. But it hadn’t done any good.
I sat listlessly on my bench, staring into the looking glass but only seeing rats no matter how many times I’d tried to focus on Trudy arranging my hair into two looped plaits.
A knock on the chamber door made me jump. Even though my limbs had ceased shaking, my insides still quaked at every noise and every slight movement.
Trudy bustled to the door and opened it, revealing Thomas. With a grave face, he stepped into the doorframe but came no farther.
I started to rise from my dressing table, but he motioned me to remain seated. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lady. But I couldn’t stay away. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Please, don’t worry —” I started.
“I cannot bear to see you in distress,” he said. His features softened as he studied my face, which was surely still lined with my horror.
“The scene took me by surprise.” I shuddered, hoping I
didn’t appear too weak. I wanted him to think of me as a strong woman, not a simpering young girl who couldn’t handle problems in my realm.
“I had some of the soldiers investigate the matter,” Thomas said. “And they informed me that the sheriff tortured the two men because they’d defied his order by leaving the part of town still under quarantine.”
“Then they weren’t murderers or marauders or enemies bent on destruction?”
Thomas shook his head, his lips pressed together grimly.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my distress mounting. “Why would the sheriff resort to such horrible torture for a crime that is so minor?”
“Perhaps he only thought to prevent the spread of the Plague and deter anyone else from disobeying?”
“What if the men were only seeking food for their families?”
“I cannot say that I agree with his methods, my lady. And I also cannot tell you how to rule your lands . . .” His voice trailed as his gaze fell to my black gown. I had no doubt he was thinking about my parents’ deaths and how young I was to assuming such leadership. “But if I was in your position, I’d make a new law that prohibits such methods of torture. Then you can assure it won’t happen again.”