Chapter Seventeen
She was about to disobey him.
Gates had watched her enter the keep as the Tender of the Keep opened the iron grate and admitted her.
He’d even watched her as she mounted the stairs, at least the ones he could see, but he soon lost sight of her as she headed to the floor above.
It was a good thing, too. She had plans other than seeking her chamber and bolting herself in.
There was a certain woman on the floors above that she wanted to have a discussion with.
My mother lied to me….
Kathalin tried to remember what Gates had told her; that it was possible Rosamund knew nothing about the de Lohr proposal, but something told Kathalin that her mother had indeed known.
She wasn’t sure why she was of that opinion, but she was.
Rosamund had known about the betrothal to de Lohr from the start and she couldn’t seem to shake the thought.
So Kathalin continued up to the top floor of the keep where her mother lived in her lavish bower.
As she mounted the steps, approaching that darkened level, she could already smell the heavy scent of cloves, the aroma that had set her father to sneezing.
She could see why because it was most cloying in nature, permeating the very walls of the keep.
She swore the stone at this level was oily with it.
It was dark on the landing as she knocked on her mother’s heavy oak door.
She heard a muffled voice, which sounded as if she was given permission to enter, so Kathalin timidly pushed the door open.
More smells of clove and something else, something equally strong, hit her in the face.
She made a mental note to ask about the smells in the chamber and what they were meant to accomplish.
No doubt some physic told her to burn herbs daily to ward off the bad vapors associated with her affliction although Kathalin had never seen evidence that doing such a thing helped, at least not in her mother’s case.
Stepping into the chamber, she closed the door behind her.
“Lady Rosamund?” she called, looking around the dim bower. “It is Kathalin.”
Something on the enormous, curtained bed over to her right stirred. “Kathalin,” Rosamund repeated, pleasure in her tone. “How good of you to come and visit me, my dear.”
Kathalin recognized her mother’s voice and turned in the direction of the bed. The heavy curtains were drawn so she couldn’t see anything, but she could hear the woman moving about.
“I came to see how you are faring,” Kathalin said, although it wasn’t entirely the truth. She simply wanted to lead off the conversation with more pleasant things and come to the interrogation later. “I was out in the herb garden this morning.”
The bed shifted around some more and the maid came around, pulling back the heavy curtains to reveal the sheer coverings beneath. “Is that so?” Rosamund said. “I have not been in the garden in years. I was told that the cook keeps it up for her dishes.”
Kathalin watched the maid as the woman finished pulling aside the curtains and then rushed back to the other side of the bed where Rosamund was evidently dressing.
“Who planted the garden?” Kathalin asked. “It looks rather old and established.”
Through the sheers, the maid was wrapping Rosamund’s hands. “That garden is very old,” she said. “It was here long before I married Jasper. I believe there must be plants in that garden that are a hundred years old. Generations of de Laras have tended it.”
Kathalin understood. “It is very overgrown in places,” she said. “Although with the spring thaw, there is a good deal of new, green growth. I was hoping… that is, I would like to ask for permission to tend it. I think I could grow many things that might help your condition.”
Through the sheers, Kathalin could see her mother falter, as if surprised by the statement. After a moment, the wrapping resumed, more slowly this time.
“I am afraid I am beyond help,” she said quietly. “Your noble gesture is very kind, but I do not think there is anything that can help me.”
Kathalin took a few steps closer to the bed. “Have you tried?” she asked. “I realize you have had this affliction for a long time, but what has been done for you in that time?”
Rosamund was silent for a moment as the maid continued to wrap.
“Many things,” she finally said. “A physic from Gloucester used to bleed me regularly, but it did no good. All of my bodily humors are infected and there was no use in trying to bleed it out. I have also been given gold to drink in the hopes of purifying my body, but to no avail.”
Kathalin had been taught the four humors of the body; black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm.
She knew that physics believed that ridding the body of these humors in certain cases, and especially leprosy, could lead to healing, and she also knew that gold potions were popular with leprosy, as gold symbolized purity and was thought to help with diseases like this.
But Mother Benedicta had proclaimed such cures towards lepers to be ineffective and believed in other healing measures that did not involve blood-letting and drinking metal.
“That is because such things only weaken the body,” Kathalin said.
“At St. Milburga’s, we had people come to us with leprosy since St. Milburga is the patron saint of lepers.
We had an entire room dedicated to them.
Mother Benedicta would have them drink a brew of rotten tea and she would also rub their limbs with salve made from rotten bread and lavender oil.
We had excellent results with it. I should like to try it on you, too, if you are willing. ”
The maid had finished wrapping Rosamund’s hands and the woman stood up from her bed, unsteadily, as the maid held her fast to prevent her from falling. “That is a magnanimous gesture, Kathalin,” she said, “but, as I said, I am beyond help. I do not believe it would do any good.”
Kathalin was rather disappointed. “Will you not even let me try?”
Rosamund came around the side of the bed, gazing upon her daughter with her bright blue eyes. The expression in her eyes spoke of hope and perhaps even excitement, but the woman shook her head.
“It would not do any good,” she repeated. “It could not undo the damage that has been done even if you did manage to stop the progression. I am grateful for your offer, however. Please know how truly grateful I truly am.”
Kathalin took a step in her mother’s direction. She didn’t want to push, for the woman had been clear, but she was still disappointed.
“Mayhap you will reconsider sometime,” she said. “In any case, will you give me permission to tend the garden as my own? I should like to care for it.”
Rosamund nodded. “Of course you may,” she said. “Generations of de Lara women will thank you.”
Kathalin smiled weakly, thinking now that the matter of the garden and her mother’s care had been settled, she had other things on her mind.
Much more important things on her mind. Now that she’d proven herself to be a thoughtful and considerate daughter, she hoped it set the right mood for the next part of their conversation about her betrothal to Alexander.
She wanted the truth and she hoped her mother would be truthful with a most sympathetic daughter.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment, carefully bringing forth the next part of the conversation. “And speaking of generations of de Laras, I am not sure if you know that my father has already moved to make a marriage for me. Were you aware he had made an offer to Alexander de Lohr?”
Rosamund’s gaze wavered slightly. “He did?” she said, sounding genuinely surprised. “He has already done this?”
Kathalin nodded. “He has,” she said. “Lord and Lady de Lohr arrived at Hyssington earlier today and my father has already made them a marriage offer between me and their son. I was just told of it. Did you know of his plans?”
Rosamund didn’t reply for a moment. She held Kathalin’s gaze before turning away, going in search of her favorite chair. Her movements were slow and painful, shuffling as she did.
“Forgive me,” she said. “It is difficult for me to stand.”
Kathalin couldn’t help but notice her mother not only hadn’t answered her question, but hadn’t outright denied her knowledge of such a thing. She followed the woman at a safe distance as she moved for her chair.
“Lady Rosamund,” she said, suspicion reflecting in her tone. “Did you know about this betrothal?”
Rosamund heard the distrust in Kathalin’s voice but she ignored it. She wasn’t about to allow her daughter to gain the upper hand in this conversation, in any way. With a grunt of pain, she settled herself into the chair.
“You knew as well as I did that Jasper is seeking a husband for you,” she finally said. “Why should you be so surprised by a marriage offer?”
There was a hint of self-defense in her tone and Kathalin could see, in that instant, that Rosamund had known. She had known all along. It was difficult to keep her outrage out of her manner when she answered.
“Aye, I knew he wanted to find me a husband, but you and I struck a deal in that I would be allowed to approve of a potential candidate before anything was offered,” she said.
“You told me that you would consider sending me back to St. Milburga’s if I did not find a suitable husband from the guests you had invited to the coming celebration. ”
There was great reproach in her words, something Rosamund found infuriating. She would not let her daughter reproach her in any way and her anger began to rise.