Chapter Twenty-Three #2
There was a bit of commotion around the Mother Abbess as she held her head and finally put her hand to her lips.
Sister Petronilla was looking to the Mother Abbess in concern, and trying to help her walk, but she, too, seemed to be unbalanced.
She went to grab at the nearest solid structure to steady herself, which happened to be a table, and she ended up pulling a very fine cloth off of it and onto the floor.
She went down with it.
Now, people were noticing. Over by the king, the bishop was suddenly unsteady on his feet and as he pitched to his knees, the king’s personal guard rushed forward to take the monarch away, far away from whatever delirium was happening.
They had no idea what was going on, only that the king shouldn’t be anywhere near it, so John hustled out of the church to the cries of “curse” and “the Devil’s work”.
The last anyone saw of him, Alexander and Sean, in full personal guard regalia, were dragging him out by the arms.
The shouts were echoing everywhere.
Save the king!
As John was whisked way, some men remained in the church; Andressa could see them from her position back in the Ambulatory.
She could see William, Christopher, David, Gart, and a few others, watching the bishop fall to the ground with the inability to breathe.
His body was also shaking uncontrollably.
Up near the altar, all three nuns were down, with the Mother Abbess on her knees as Sister Agnes lay on her back a few feet away, gasping for air.
If Andressa had wondered if she had, indeed, succeeded in her task, the evidence of her success was now before her.
Oddly enough, she felt very calm as she watched the scene unfold.
She was still holding on to the king’s pitcher and the nun’s pitcher with her good hand, and with the nun’s pitcher being less than half-full, she didn’t want anyone else ingesting the poisoned wine.
It had accomplished its task. Pouring the poisoned wine into the dirt of the Ambulatory, she headed out into the sanctuary.
William and Christopher were standing over the bishop as the man writhed on the ground, while a few terrified nuns who had entered the church when they heard the shouting now stood over the Mother Abbess and the two writhing sisters.
Andressa walked into the light, watching the women as they lay dying, feeling nothing more than a sense of closure.
For all of the evil and pain they inflicted, and for the men and women they’d so gleefully killed, it was retribution.
It was justice.
“Andressa?”
She heard her name, turning to see Maxton approaching her from across the sanctuary. He had his men with him, following him, and they were all looking around with great confusion at what was happening. When Andressa saw him, tears came to her eyes and a smile to her lips.
Her salvation had arrived.
“Andressa?” Maxton said again, hesitantly, as he came near her, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her arm. “What has happened, love? Did you have a hand in this?”
She sighed faintly, her gaze turning to the Mother Abbess and the two sisters on their backs, now surrounded by a few nuns that were trying to help them. Not strangely, they weren’t trying very hard. They were mostly looking at them. She shook her head, knowing any help for the nuns was futile.
“I gave them the poisoned wine meant for the king,” she said simply.
Maxton’s jaw popped open in shock as he looked to the writhing bodies on the ground. “You did this?” he gasped. “You poisoned them?”
She nodded. “They wanted me to kill the king,” she said.
“I would not do it. I switched the wine so they were the ones to drink the poison. It is their own wickedness that brought this upon them. Years of pain and torture, years of men and women who could not fight for themselves… yesterday, I fought back when they tried to beat me, and these are the results.”
She lifted her bandaged hand and, in that instant, Maxton understood what had happened. He looked at her in utter astonishment.
“Revenge,” he muttered. “You did this for revenge.”
She shook her head slowly. “Nay, Maxton. Justice.”
“And the bishop?”
“He happened to drink wine that was not meant for him.”
A glimmer came to Maxton’s eyes as he realized what, exactly, she had done, and why.
But in truth, he was beside himself with the realization.
He simply couldn’t believe it. All of the planning that he and his men had done, and the situation had been resolved by one small woman.
Reaching out, he cupped her pale and injured face between his two enormous hands.
“And I had grand ideas of saving you from this place,” he murmured.
“It seems that you did not need saving. What you did… I cannot imagine a woman so brave, Andie. Not only did you save yourself, but you saved the king and accomplished what a dozen seasoned knights could not have done so easily. Utterly remarkable, my lady.”
Her tears spilled over then, deeply touched by his words. The sweetness of his touch made her feel as she’d never felt in her life – comforted, appreciated, and adored.
Aye… adored.
“It occurred to me that taking this upon myself might somehow diminish your opinion of me,” she said.
“But after yesterday… after they had beaten me… I knew what I had to do. You could not have punished them the way I did. Knights punishing women of the cloth would somehow sully you with the church, no matter how righteous your cause. But this way… there is no damage to you or your men. It is over now, Maxton. Rightness for one and for all.”
He caressed her face gently. “Did they beat you because of Douglas’ death? It did not occur to me until after we left his body at St. Blitha that they might punish you for it. Is that what happened?”
She didn’t want to make him feel badly about protecting her, because it had been the right and noble thing to do, so she simply shrugged.
“They knew that the plan for the king’s assassination had been divulged to the king’s men,” she said.
“They were certain I was the culprit, but I did not confess to it. Another nun tried to beat me for it, but I fought her and injured her. In fact, Sister Dymphna is in her bed, unable to move. She is part of this plot, Maxton, and should be punished.”
“I will send men to arrest her.”
“It would be a good idea to…”
“Andressa!”
A howling cry echoed off the sanctuary walls, cutting her off, and both Andressa and Maxton turned to see the Mother Abbess, now propped up against the altar, her finger pointing in Andressa’s direction.
Knowing she’d been summoned, Andressa approached the woman with Maxton at her side, noting that the poison was making the Mother Abbess’ limbs convulse uncontrollably. Her breathing was coming in shallow, uneven gasps and when she spoke, her lips and tongue were completely dry.
“The wine,” she breathed. “You confused the wine!”
Andressa looked down at the woman, feeling absolutely nothing by way of pity as she watched the Mother Abbess struggle. She didn’t even feel satisfaction. At most, she felt a sense of finality, as if the horror of her life was finally ending.
Bending over the woman, she spoke softly.
“I did not confuse the wine,” she said. “I gave you the wine you intended for the king. Now, he shall live and you shall die. If you are afraid to die, you should be. All of those women you murdered in The Chaos, and the others you have managed to murder all these years, shall be waiting for you when you face God’s good judgement.
You have much to atone for, Gracious Mother. ”
The woman was looking at her with something equating to stark fear. “You… you did this,” she said, her words slurred. “How… how could you do this to me?”
Andressa thought it was a ludicrous question, one she resisted snapping at. Glancing at the pitchers still in her hand, she carefully set them down next to the dying woman, including the one that had contained the poisoned wine. When she spoke, it was for the Mother Abbess’ ears only.
“Remember what you told me,” she whispered. “Death comes from the most unexpected sources. All those men and women you killed never suspected you… and you never suspected me. I hope you suffer as deeply as you deserve, Gracious Mother.”
They were the most satisfying words Andressa had ever uttered. With them, all ties and all memories with St. Blitha were cut in an instant. Standing up, she turned her back on the woman completely. She could hear moaning and weeping behind her as she faced Maxton.
“If you still wish to marry me, I am ready to go with you,” she said. “I realize that my actions today are most shocking, so I would understand if you would like to reconsider.”
Maxton was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as joy.
Pure, prideful joy. A woman so strong, a crusader for what was true and right in the world, took the greatest risk of all in seeking justice for herself as well as others.
The evil of Seaxburga needed to be stopped, and she put herself in danger to do just that.
“I am the most fortunate man in the world to have such a woman,” he said softly, reaching out to take her good hand. “Come along, love. You’ve known a life of hopelessness… let me show you what it is like to truly live.”
She smiled, his words filling her as deeply as the oceans filling the earth.
It was deep and vast, simply waiting for her to discover it all.
That kind of joy was so out of place among dying women, and a dying bishop, but Andressa wasn’t looking at that any longer.
She was looking at the future, as bright and magnificent as she could have ever hoped for.
As he held her hand tightly, she fell against him, affectionately, knowing that for the rest of her life, she was destined to be by this man’s side, for better or for worse.
It would be just the two of them, for the ages.
“What a kind and generous man you are to those in need,” she murmured, repeating words she’d said to them when they’d first met. “You knew I needed you and I think, somehow, you needed me as well.”
He smiled at her, putting his arm around her as he began to lead her out of the sanctuary. What he felt for her, he couldn’t put into words, but he did know one thing – she was right.
He needed her.
“More than you know, love,” he said. “More than you know.”
*