Virginia Henley (56 page)

The minutes stretched out until she was ready to scream, then Stoke knocked on the window. Cat opened it reluctantly, dreading what he would say.

“They won’t let us through the gate without health certificates, my lady. Do either of ye have papers?”

Cat shook her head. “Go back and tell them I am Lady Stewart, traveling with Arbella Stuart, cousin to King James.” As Stoke went to do her bidding, she could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. Then the carriage seemed to fill with the scent of lavender, and Catherine was immediately reminded of Kate Howard, who had always worn that fragrance. “Help us, Kate,” she murmured.

Stoke returned. “He says he doesn’t care if you’re the Virgin Queen resurrected; the law is the law.”

Catherine’s eardrums felt as if they would burst. Then she thought she heard a voice say “
Use the earrings.
” A vision of Kate’s ruby and diamond earrings came into her head. Quickly, she unlocked her jewel case and stared down at the gems that were so precious to her.
I cannot part with them.
She heard Maggie moan in her sleep and knew she would sacrifice all her jewels if it would help Maggie.

Catherine grabbed the earrings and stepped from the carriage. She knew all depended upon her performance. She must act as if she were a goddess who had stepped down from Mount Olympus to challenge a mere mortal. She’d had lessons from Queen Elizabeth on how to be imperial. “My good man, the King of England and his gentlemen passed through this gate yesterday on their way to Hertfordshire. We are part of the king’s Royal Court. Inside is the king’s first cousin, Lady Arbella Stuart. Do you not see the Stuart crest on the coach door?”

“Milady, I have orders to let no one pass either in or out of the city gates without a health certificate.”

“Really?” Cat drawled. “Did the king and his gentlemen have health certificates? Of course they didn’t. Take a good look at me, sir. Do I look as if I am ailing?” She lifted the skirts of her pink gown and twirled around. “I have something better than a silly piece of paper.” She smiled seductively and opened her fingers to display the jewels on her palm. “Rubies and diamonds.”

When the guard reached for them, she closed her fingers. He called to his fellow guard, “Open the gate.”

Catherine opened her fingers and gave him a radiant smile, but when she climbed back into the carriage she was trembling all over.
Thank you, Kate. Thank you for helping us.

As the coach picked up speed, Maggie slumped over. Cat moved her so that she was lying down on the seat and began to make plans for what she would do when they arrived at Spencer Park. By now she was convinced that Maggie had the plague, and she knew that she must be isolated from other people.

As they passed through small villages, Cat was alarmed at the number of people who were lying in the ditches. She realized with dismay that the epidemic was not just in London. It seemed to be spreading everywhere.

It was early afternoon by the time the carriage came to a stop in Spencer Park’s courtyard. Catherine stepped out. “Stoke, would you be good enough to bring the luggage?” As she reached the front door, Mr. Burke opened it.

“Welcome home, my lady. I am so very relieved you are well.”

She waited until he had helped Stoke bring the luggage inside, then said, “Mr. Burke, I need to speak with you in private.”

Burke told Stoke to go to the kitchen for a drink of ale, and then he followed Catherine to the library.

She closed the door, took a deep breath and turned to face him. “You won’t welcome me, Mr. Burke. I fear that I have brought the plague to Spencer Park. It’s Maggie.” Her shoulders slumped. “She’s in the carriage. I had nowhere else to take her.”

“Regretfully, my lady, the plague arrived here before you. Last week, one of the maids came down with the contagion. Her family came and took her away, but sadly, they could not save her. I sent the entire staff home until this scourge passes. The only one who stayed is Cook, who says she survived a plague epidemic before. Let’s get Maggie into the house.”

“Are you not afraid, Mr. Burke?”

“Afraid of the plague, yes; afraid of death, no. You do understand that you have exposed yourself?”

“I had no choice. I love Maggie. We will isolate her away from your quarters and of course the kitchens. I will nurse her, but I can’t get her into the house by myself.”

“I will carry her in. Does your coach driver know?”

Cat flushed. “No, I lied to him. I must go and confess.” She went to the kitchens, opened the door and called his name. Stoke came out holding a tankard of ale.

“Lady Stewart, they’ve already had a plague victim here. Are you sure you want to stay?”

“It seems to be everywhere. It’s so frightening. The lady I brought with me is very ill, Stoke, and I fear it’s the plague.”

“Lady Arbella has the plague?”

“No, Arbella is safe at Windsor with the queen. The lady with me is my serving woman. I lied to you and I have no excuse.”

Stoke stared at her in amazement. “You exposed yourself to help a servant? God bless you, my lady.”

“I will keep her isolated. You may stay if you wish, Stoke. Thank you. Mr. Burke will pay you for your service to me.”

“Thank you, my lady, but I’d best make my way to Windsor if I want to keep my job. Take care of yourself, ma’am.”

They put Maggie to bed in the east wing nursery. “Ask Cook to make some barley water, Mr. Burke. Just knock on the door when it’s ready. I don’t want you to come inside this room again.”

Maggie was burning with fever and muttering incoherently. Cat removed her dress but left on her petticoat. She gave her a sponge bath with cool water; though her skin was burning hot, Maggie was shivering. Cat spoke in a soothing voice. “You have chills and fever. I know you must be thirsty. Here is some nice barley water to make you feel better. Try and sip a little.”

She lifted Maggie’s head and put the cup to her lips, but she refused to drink. Patiently, Cat tried again and again, but it was to no avail. She decided to leave her in peace for a while and try again later. Cat answered a knock on the door and found Mr. Burke with another tray that held food for her. She took it and closed the door firmly.

Catherine tried to eat, but the lump in her throat made it difficult. She found it far easier to drink the watered wine. She sat down in a chair beside the bed and closed her eyes. Cat prayed for Maggie and made bargains with God. When she opened her eyes she saw that twilight had descended.
The Scots call it gloaming.
Once again she tried her best to get Maggie to drink, but her patient suddenly knocked the cup from her hand and began to thrash about and scream as if she were in terrible pain.

“What is it, love?”

Maggie had thrown off her covers and was tearing at her petticoat as if she could not bear the feel of it against her flesh. Catherine lifted up her skirt and gasped in horror at the huge black lump that had arisen in her groin.
Dear God, this is the dreaded bubo, the plague boil!
Cat had never been as afraid in her life. She went to the window and threw it open. She felt so alone and helpless, her eyes flooded with tears. There was only one man who had ever taken away her fears and loneliness, and her heart and soul cried out for him. “Patrick! I don’t know what to do. Patrick, I need you. You are my magic man.”

Hepburn and his moss-troopers had had a productive month, with twelve-hour days riding the dales, keeping the peace. They had covered far more territory than in previous years when they had patrolled only the Scottish Middle March. They had ridden into England’s northern shires in their efforts to erase the invisible Border that separated the two countries. As July came to a close, the men were weary, tired of sleeping on the ground and more than ready to return home to Crichton.

Before Hepburn and his moss-troopers made the long eighty-mile trek home, he took it upon himself to seek the hospitality of Carlisle Castle in Cumberland, where they would get a decent meal and a comfortable bed. Lord Thomas Scrope, Philadelphia’s husband, was the castle constable, and though Patrick knew Scrope had gone to England with King James, he was sure of a welcome.

That evening, the Great Hall rang with the noises of men bent on enjoying themselves. They had eaten themselves to a convivial stodge, imbibed enough ale to guarantee them a hangover and were in the process of stealing one another blind in a game of dice. As Hepburn’s dark glance roved around the hall he felt satisfaction in all he’d accomplished and was glad he’d brought his moss-troopers to Carlisle for a well-deserved respite.

He drained his tankard, swung his long legs from beneath the trestle table and quit the smoke-filled hall in search of fresh air. He climbed to the castle ramparts, enjoying a quiet moment as the gloaming deepened into total darkness.

Almost immediately his sense of satisfaction and contentment drained away, and he was left with an ominous feeling. Guardedly, he opened his mind, sending out feelers that searched and probed for the source of this foreboding. His sixth sense told him that the menace did not emanate from this castle, but came from afar.

Hepburn immediately thought of Catherine, who was constantly on his mind of late. Though he was filled with dread that some misfortune might befall her, he did not shy away from fervently seeking to learn if real danger threatened her. Patrick focused intently to conjure a vision of his wife. He saw only her beautiful face, and his hands gripped the crenellated stone of the ramparts as he saw that her eyelashes glistened with teardrops.

Her overwhelming sadness rolled over him, and he sensed that her heart was breaking. But his inward conviction portended more than sadness. She was surrounded by a black, evil menace that told him she was in mortal danger. He resolved to leave immediately and thanked the Fates that he was already in England. Hepburn asked himself why he felt Catherine’s peril now, when he had never sensed it before. The answer was simple.
It is because I have finally stopped denying that I love her.

C
atherine had no idea how to combat the contagion that raged in Maggie’s body, but she knew that delirium was brought on by high fever and instinctively tried to cool her down. Every hour she gave her a cooling sponge bath. Because of the agony caused by the black swelling in Maggie’s groin, Cat took great pains to lift her limbs gently. She tried again and again to coax Maggie to sip a cold drink, but the sick woman refused. When Cat tried to force down some cool water, Maggie choked and it came back up.

During the next two days the patient raved and shouted and thrashed about wildly. Finally, her words became incoherent gibberish, and Catherine was gripped with fear and hopeless-ness.

On the third day, Maggie had periods of calm and seemed to doze quietly. When Catherine checked on the plague boil, it looked as if the swelling had lessened. Cat’s hope returned and she was able to close her eyes and rest a little. On the fourth day, however, when Maggie did not rouse, Catherine realized that she had sunk into a coma.

As her hope began to melt away like snow in summer, she sat down on the side of the bed and, holding Maggie’s hand between both of hers, murmured to her beloved friend in a soft voice. She spoke of times she remembered from her childhood when her old nurse had quietened her fears. She spoke of joys they’d shared and told her how much she had enjoyed their time in Scotland. Finally, with tears streaming freely down her cheeks, she spoke her fears aloud. “You cannot leave me, Maggie. You’re the only one who ever loved me. Don’t go; please don’t go.”

Hepburn, mounted on Valiant and leading a second horse, rode through the night. With each mile the menace seemed to increase. Though he had no idea what threatened Catherine, he was becoming more and more convinced that her life was in peril.

When dawn broke, Patrick saw the turrets of Richmond Castle. He knew he had covered fifty miles and tried not to think of the two hundred that lay before him. While he watered his horses, he took a dip in the river Swale, then broke his fast with some oatcakes and let his horses crop the grass along the riverbank.

After an hour’s rest, he was back in the saddle. Though he was riding south, to where the climate was milder, Hepburn began to realize that the heat was unusual. Both he and his mount were sweating and he knew he must water the horses more often.

When he arrived at York, he learned to his great horror that the city was in the grip of the black plague. Victims had been locked out of the walled city and lay dying or dead in the fields and ditches. “Holy God, the black evil that hovers over Catherine is the bubonic plague!” Hepburn’s gut knotted with fear. He crossed himself and rode hell-for-leather from the accursed place. He vowed to avoid cities henceforth and stopped for food and rest at Selby Abbey, reasoning that the monks who lived there in isolation would be free of the contagion. He bought bread and cheese and a flagon of wine and put them in his saddlebags, then he rode south, following the river Trent, and did not stop again until he passed the small hamlet of Sutton and entered Sherwood Forest.