Chapter Twenty-Two
It was upon her.
Kathalin and Lady de Lohr approached the great hall in the darkness of the bailey, through the cold rain that was falling on them, and Kathalin could see the men gathered outside the door of the great hall where the beginning of the marriage mass would take place.
The priest would begin the mass at the entry before gathering the wedding party and proceeding inside, which was the normal protocol.
As Kathalin drew closer to the door, which was emitting light into the darkness of the bailey, she realized that the time was finally upon her.
No more pleading, no more bargaining or begging. Now, it was finished.
It was time to marry Alexander.
The realization was like a stab to her heart and the tears started, mingling with the freezing rain that was falling upon them with increasing strength.
Her careful hair dressing was becoming wet, as was her gown, and by the time she and Lady de Lara reached the doorway, the priest was ushering everyone inside and out of the rain.
It was beginning to rain in epic proportions and a change of location would have to be made.
The mass would have to be started, and finished, inside.
The fire in the hearths were burning brightly and Lady de Lohr gently pulled Kathalin over to the closest one, now concerned with drying the woman out.
It was very cold, and Kathalin was shivering violently, and Lady de Lohr sent the nearest servant for something hot for the woman to drink.
The priest, seeing that the bride and the groom’s family were gathered over near the hearth closest to the door, made his way to them.
“It is of no matter to begin the mass in here, my lord,” the priest said to Jasper. “It will keep my book from becoming soaked if there is a roof over our heads.”
Jasper, who had been drinking fairly steadily since having left Gates about a half hour earlier, simply waved the priest off.
He had a fourth cup of wine in his hand and he wanted to be done with this entire situation, as stressful as it had been.
After everything that had happened over the past few days, he was coming to regret ever having a daughter. His mood, therefore, was foul.
“Fine,” he snapped. “We are waiting for one more guest and when he arrives, you will begin.”
The priest nodded. “What of Lady de Lara, my lord?”
Jasper glanced at him, sharply, before grunting in disgust. “She will not attend,” he said deliberately. “We are waiting for one more man only and not my wife.”
Elreda, standing with Kathalin and trying to dry the poor woman off, heard Jasper’s comment. “We could wait for her, Jasper,” she said. “In fact, I will go to her chamber and escort her down here.”
Jasper was shaking his head before she even finished. “Nay,” he said shortly. “She does not come out of her chamber. She never comes out of her chamber. She stays in there and rots.”
Jasper’s drunken words were harsh. Henry, standing with Alexander, didn’t want to get caught up in a tussle between his wife and Jasper. He put out a hand, mostly to interrupt any manner of argument that might be starting.
“Certainly we can conduct the mass and if Lady de Lara chooses to attend the feast afterwards, it will be most agreeable,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Jasper, I forgot to tell you that I have brought four bottles of good red wine from Spain. I will bring them forth after our children are wed.”
Jasper was interested in the wine, enough so that it forced him off the subject of his wife.
As he and Henry began to discuss the region where the wine originated, somewhere in the Andalucia region, Kathalin held her hands out over the fire and tried to warm herself.
Elreda was behind her, shaking out the back of her surcoat and trying to wring the mud out of it, and as Kathalin rubbed at her hands, she heard a quiet voice beside her.
“I see that you let my mother have her way with your hair,” Alexander said. “You look quite lovely.”
Kathalin looked over at the man standing next to her.
He was smiling timidly at her, his handsome features reflecting the firelight.
His golden hair had been neatly combed and he had even shaved.
When he smiled, the dimples in both cheeks were deep.
Aye, he was a very handsome man but all Kathalin saw when she looked at him was sorrow. She sighed heavily.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Alex, please know how sorry I am that you are being forced into this. I am sure this is not how you ever imagined you would be married.”
His smile turned ironic. “Nor you,” he said, his eyes lingering on her a moment. “The situation cannot be changed, my lady. I will make the best of it if you will.”
Kathalin nodded but her eyes were beginning to well. “Gates told me to be good to you,” she said, choking up. “I promise that I will do my very best.”
“I know you will.”
“I hope… I hope we will at least come to like each other. I could not bear it if you resented me.”
He shook his head. “Nor could I bear it if you hated me,” he said quietly. “I swear to you, Kathalin, that I will do my very best to make you a good husband. It is the least I can do to make this situation pleasant for the both of us.”
Kathalin nodded as the tears spilled over, and Alexander was seized with sympathy for the woman.
He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but somehow, it didn’t seem right.
He didn’t want this marriage and neither did she, but at least he didn’t have the added burden of being in love with someone else.
So he stood there, close to her, watching her weep and wishing he could say something to her that would bring them both comfort.
As he stood there, wondering what he could say, he saw movement in the hall entry.
Looking over Kathalin’s head, his eyes locked with Gates as the man entered.
The storm outside was raging and Gates was fairly soaked, and his eyes found Alexander’s right away.
It was a poignant moment for them both, one full of a thousand unspoken words of thanks, of sorrow, and of friendship until Gates finally nodded, once, as if to acknowledge that he had arrived and that he was ready for what was to come.
Perhaps not completely ready, but as ready as he would ever be.
But then his gaze moved to Kathalin’s lowered head and it was then that Alexander saw just how distraught Gates still was.
By his sheer expression, the man was being torn apart.
Before Alexander could move to him, however, Jasper caught sight of the knight.
“Ah!” Jasper said, thumping the priest on the arm to get the man’s attention. “Our last guest has arrived. You may begin. Gates! Attend me!”
Kathalin’s head shot up at the sound of Gates’ name being shouted and she turned around to see the man as Jasper went to him, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him up to the hearth.
Gates’ gaze found her, through the people and the smoke around them, and he gave her a small smile, an encouraging one, as if to silently tell her that everything was going to be all right.
Of course, it wasn’t going to be all right and they both knew it.
Kathalin couldn’t even manage to smile back.
In fact, she realized she shouldn’t be looking at him at all.
The sight of him threatened to destroy her composure completely so she quickly turned around and faced the hearth, telling herself that there was no use in thinking on the man.
There was no use in looking at him or even acknowledging that he was standing behind her.
For once, for just this once, she had to be strong and not think of him and pretend none of this mattered because, for certain, the alternative was a complete collapse which, in the end, wouldn’t stop the wedding.
It would only delay it, and there was no use in delaying the destiny that had been chosen for her.
A destiny without Gates.
So she faced the hearth, tears still streaming down her face in silent protest of what was about to take place, each tear representing a fragment of her heart that had been splintered away.
So many fragments poured down her cheeks and she kept wiping at them, dashing them away, and trying not to be too obvious about it.
It occurred to her that her tears might be an insult to Alexander, who was trying to be kind to her in this dismal hour.
Therefore, she tried very hard to stop those fragments of liquid emotion that poured down her cheeks.
It was the most difficult fight of her life.
The priest, not oblivious to the weeping bride, had Alexander face him and then positioned Kathalin on Alexander’s left side, as woman was created from Adam’s left rib according to the church doctrine.
Father Wenceslaus, a slender man with heavy, dark eyebrows and hair growing out of his nose, eyed Alexander and Kathalin seriously.
“We shall begin,” he said. “I will ask the guests in attendance if any of them can show just cause as to why you two should not be married, and then I shall ask you the same question. Can anyone tell me why this couple should not be joined?”
The question went out to the group. Kathalin closed her eyes tightly, cringing as she waited for Gates to speak up.
Perhaps she was praying that he would, hoping beyond hope that the man would denounce what was happening to the woman he loved.
In fact, every person in the room other than the priest was waiting for the same thing, but Gates remained silent in the matter.
He was staring at the priest without saying a word.
Elreda and Henry sighed with relief as Jasper glared at Gates, who refused to meet the man’s eye.
The priest, not receiving any response, turned the question on Alexander and Kathalin.