Chapter 2 #2
I glanced at Alex. “Saw who?”
“She came to me. St. Catherine of Alexandria!”
I dressed her, slipping the garment over her head, then pulled on my own clothes.
I had no idea what she was talking about and hoped she would not mention it again. I lifted Catherine into my arms and carried her up the stone stairwell and through the castle, closely followed by Alex.
“Take me to her—to the painting of her,” Catherine pleaded.
“Tomorrow night,” I said.
Catherine sobbed.
I carried her through the main hallway and into my father’s drawing room.
We all left a trail of dripping water in our wake, and I hoped it would dry by morning.
Not wanting to cause either Alex or Catherine further distress, I remained calm, though I didn’t feel it and wondered when my heart would stop racing.
Catherine settled in front of the painting by Raphael.
The portrait had been presented to my father as a gift of gratitude from a wealthy Italian merchant for the assistance he had received following the sinking of one of his vessels.
The fine painting now hung in the drawing room of the castle, positioned left of the fireplace, large in its frame and spectacular in color.
Catherine peered up in awe at the painting of St. Catherine of Alexandria, mesmerized.
Appearing so immaculate in her sainthood, St. Catherine gazed dreamily at the sky. Her vibrant blue dress extenuated her full and womanly frame, her hand placed over her right breast toward her heart in a feminine, humble pose.
Alex, as instructed, retrieved blankets to warm us. The huge log fireplace, lit earlier that evening, continued to blaze brightly, providing much needed warmth.
When Alex returned, he found Catherine resting her head on my shoulder, and he wrapped the blankets around us and the third around himself. He too looked up in wonder at the painting. He rested his head on my lap and we all sat quietly, gazing up.
“Tell me the story of St. Catherine again,” Catherine said.
I hesitated.
Tears welled in Catherine’s eyes. I scratched my head. Catherine again began to sob.
I nodded. “She was born into a noble family in Alexandria. Following a vision, she became a Christian, at a time when it was very dangerous to be one. A horrible leader by the name of Maxentius requested that she stand in front of his philosophers and present her faith, expecting that she would be converted away from her belief.”
“She convinced the philosophers,” Catherine said.
“She converted them to Christianity.” I was happy to see her calmer. “Maxentius ordered their—”
“Death.” Catherine nodded for me to continue.
I followed her gaze toward the saint’s portrait.
“Catherine also converted the wife of Maxentius and two hundred of his soldiers. He had them slaughtered as well. Catherine was very beautiful, and inevitably Maxentius fell in love with her and offered her a royal marriage—if she would but deny her faith. When she refused, Maxentius had her thrown into prison where she had yet another vision—one in which she wed Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Becoming the Bride of Christ.” She sighed.
Alex yawned.
I threw him a wary glance. “Eventually, in a blind fury, Maxentius condemned her to death and designed a tortuous device, like a spiked wheel, on which he intended her to die a painful and slow death. Catherine was tied to the wheel, and when it began to turn, it broke into hundreds of pieces, as if symbolizing God’s wrath.
Maxentius, still not convinced of Catherine’s faith, had her beheaded, and her body was then carried away by angels to be buried upon Mount Sinai. ”
“Jadeon,” Catherine said. “St. Catherine appeared to me, and she said that I had to give you a very important message.”
With sympathy, I peered at her, aware that she had experienced a terrible ordeal. A vision of Joan of Arc, whom St. Catherine of Alexandria had also appeared to, came to mind. “We swam out too far. It was my fault,” I reassured her. “I should have been more cautious.”
“No,” Catherine said. “You will one day do something very important.”
Alex discreetly gestured that Catherine was crazy.
I ignored him. “Catherine, did you hit your head? I can’t see any cuts or anything.”
“Jadeon, I am fine.” She pushed my hand away. “There was a magnificent white light and everything. Honestly, I know how this must sound.”
“Thank you for my message,” I said.
She was not convinced.
“I’m pleased my life will have purpose, like Father’s.” It struck me that I had no idea what my father actually did.
At Catherine’s insistence, we remained in the room with her, staring at the painting until dawn.
Alex soon fell asleep, but I kept Catherine company, watching her for any signs she was still upset.
Our parents had taught us swimming was the work of the Devil, and now we believed it.
More disturbingly, I wondered if the woman in the dungeons had cursed us.
Alex never brought it up, so neither did I.
I wanted to find normalcy again. The way the woman had been treated went against everything my parents had taught us.
I felt ashamed of such a family secret, and wondered how we could approach Father, certain that there would be some reasonable explanation.