Novels 03 The Wise Woman by Philippa Gregory

Author:Philippa Gregory
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Witches, General, Romance, Great Britain - History - Henry VIII, Great Britain, Historical, Historical Fiction, Occult Fiction, Fiction, 1509-1547, Love Stories
ISBN: 9781416590880
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 1992-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter

17

Catherine was ill for many days, through the springtime weather of May when the sun rose clear and early, and the birds sang till dusk, till the end of that storm-filled, sunshine-filled month; but she did not complain. She lay quietly in her bed, which was carried across to the little window so she could sit up on her pillows and see the courtyard and the garden and the life of the castle going on. She wearied easily and she liked to have Alys by her side to read to her. “I cannot see the print,” she said. “My head aches so. And Alys reads so sweetly.”

Lord Hugh passed her books and poems to read, and even some of his letters from London which told of Queen Anne’s trial and her execution. “‘By the hand of a French swordsman, especially trained and brought over from that country,’” Alys read to Catherine.

Catherine shook her head. “I never liked her,” she said softly. “I was named for Queen Catherine, you know, Alys. I always thought Anne Boleyn would fall. She was an adulteress, first with the king, and then with his courtiers. I won’t mourn for her. Her rise was ungodly swift.”

“No swifter than Jane Seymour’s,” Alys said logically. “She was lady-in-waiting to them both. And she will be queen in her turn. If a man is king, or even master of his destiny, he will choose the woman he wants. And she can rise as he wishes.”

Catherine turned her head on the pillow and smiled at Alys. “A marriage for love is best,” she said contentedly. “A marriage for love between equals is best.”

Hugo came to her every morning and sat with her until dinner. He dined with her in her chamber at noon, and the table in the big hall seemed strangely empty without them. Alys often waited on them in Catherine’s chamber as they ate. Hugo took her service without noticing her. He only watched Catherine, pressing her to eat the finest things, to drink little glasses of good red Mount Rose wine from Gascony to strengthen her blood. It was Catherine who thanked Alys.

In the afternoon while Hugo went out hunting, Alys would sing to Catherine and play the lute. She would read to her and copy passages from books which Catherine wanted to learn. “I am so glad you are here, Alys,” Catherine said sweetly one day. “I am so glad you are here to care for me. I feel so weak, Alys, I can tell you—but don’t tell Hugo. I feel so weak I feel as if I will never be strong again. I am glad to have you care for me. I don’t think I would have survived my drowning without your care.”

Morach, sitting idly at Catherine’s bedroom fire, shot a quick amused glance at Alys’s face. Alys looked blandly back.

“Who would have thought that you two girls would have become so close?” Morach wondered aloud. “Such friends as you now are!”

Alys drew her lips back in a smile.

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