Page 12 of The Forsaken
Kate returned to the house, kicked off her wet shoes, and climbed up to the solar where she curled up in the window seat. From her vantage point she could see the stable yard, the fields, and the woods beyond. This was her world, the only one she’d ever known. If she listened to her mother and Geoffrey, she would never see anything beyond the walls of a convent. But how could she ignore the advice of the two people she trusted most in the world? How could she dismiss the worry in their eyes when they spoke of her future? Gerard Dancy was not a cruel man—at least he’d never been cruel to her—but his dealings with Agnes had showed Kate that her father could be ruthless. She’d never felt the back of his hand or displeased him enough for him to use sharpwords to her, being an obedient and respectful daughter, but Geoffrey had struck a chord when he spoke of her father’s goals. Gerard Dancy was an ambitious man, and he’d use everything at his disposal to further his own ends. Already he was negotiating a marriage for Martin, looking for a bride among the highest-ranking Yorkist kin. Geoffrey would be next, and he was prepared to do his bit to further the family’s influence despite his own wishes. Only Robert had a few more years of freedom before him. His future would not be decided until his older brothers were advantageously wed.
Kate hugged her legs and rested her head on her knees as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She was no longer a little girl; she had to start thinking like a woman. Perhaps going to the priory was the lesser of two evils. Kate wiped away her tears and stared blindly out the window. Her decision was made.
NINE
Kate hurried along the empty cloister toward the abbess’s office. Two more weeks and her future at the priory would be secure. Once she took her vows, she would belong to God, and not even her father would have a say over her life any longer.
She approached the arched doorway of the office, knocked softly, and was invited to enter. The abbess sat behind her desk, a folded sheet of paper with a broken seal lying before her. She was in her fifties and had been at the priory since she was a girl of thirteen. The abbess was possessed of a patient, kind nature perfectly suited to her role as “mother” to the women in her charge, and never behaved in a manner that was intimidating or unapproachable. She was sensitive to the needs of the postulants as well as the nuns, and always took the time to comfort and reassure when the situation called for it. This morning, the abbess looked tired and pale, and her mouth pursed into a thin line of displeasure.
“Good morning, Mother. You wished to see me?” Kate asked. The abbess normally greeted everyone with a serene smile and a kind word, but there was no smile today.
“Sit down, Catherine.”
The seed of anxiety blossomed in Kate’s belly as she perched on the edge of a chair. This wasn’t a routine summons to discuss the vow-taking. This was something entirely different.
“Have I done something wrong?” Kate asked, her voice quivering with uncertainty. Why else would the abbess wish to see her, if not to punish her for some unknown transgression?
“No, you haven’t done anything wrong, my child, which is not to say that a wrong hasn’t been done to you,” the abbess replied sadly.
“Whatever do you mean, Mother?”
“Catherine, a messenger arrived with a letter from your lord father last night. I didn’t summon you right away because I needed time to think. I’ve pondered the situation all night, but I couldn’t arrive at any solution that wouldn’t hinge on deceit or disobedience. Your father wishes you to return home immediately.”
“Why?” Kate cried. “I’m about to take my vows.”
The abbess shook her head. Kate saw that she was genuinely distressed and devastated by her own helplessness. Tears of sorrow welled in her eyes as she faced Kate across her massive desk.
“Catherine, I’m very sorry to tell you, but your brothers fell at the Battle of Towton on Palm Sunday. Martin and Robert died on the field. Geoffrey was grievously wounded and died of his injuries two days later. The forces of Lancaster were routed and the Duke of York is now confirmed as King Edward IV. I know you have Yorkist kin, and this would be very welcome news for you indeed, if not for the loss your family suffered on that battlefield. They say it was the bloodiest battle in Britain’s history,” the abbess added. “Thousands of men slaughtered on both sides. May God rest their souls.” She crossed herself and Kate followed suit.
“God rest their souls,” Kate muttered, reeling from the news. Her brothers were all gone, even Geoffrey. Kind, funny, ginger-haired Geoffrey who’d always teased her about her freckles and was the only one of her brothers to play a game with her or escort her when she rode her pony as a child. And Robert, who had hardly been more than a child himself. Oh, he’d fancied himself a grown man, but he had still been so naïve, and so foolish. She’d never felt kindly disposed toward Martin, even before Agnes’s death, but his death was still a shock, and a loss. He’d been only twenty.
“Why does my father want me to come home?” Kate asked.
The abbess shook her head, but didn’t elaborate. Lord Dancy wouldn’t have explained his reasons to her. He’d sent asummons, and she was meant to obey, but Kate understood her father’s motives only too well. Now that a Yorkist king sat on the throne, new alliances would need to be forged and the fastest way to an advantageous alliance was through a mutually beneficial union. With her brothers gone, Kate was the only bargaining tool her father had left. Kate suspected that the abbess had considered telling her father that Kate had already taken her vows and was a full-fledged nun, but her conscience wouldn’t permit her to lie, not even to shield Kate from what was to come.
“Catherine, your lady mother has been taken ill upon learning the news. She’s been asking for you.”
A terrible sob tore from Kate’s chest. She was feeling sorry for herself and mourning her own future when her mother had just lost three of her beloved boys and needed the comfort of her only daughter. How selfish she was, how self-centered. No wonder God had seen fit to send her home before she had a chance to take her vows. She didn’t deserve His love or His mercy.
“Catherine, I know you are devastated, and you have every reason to be, but there are many ways to serve God. You can serve him by helping your family during this difficult time. You must nurse your mother back to health and honor your father’s wishes.”
“Mother, please,” Kate begged. “Ask my father to promise that I may return to the priory once my mother is recovered.”
“I have no right to ask that of him, my child. Had you already taken your vows, I would have recourse, but you are still a novice, free to leave or be expelled. You are not yet bound to God, and I couldn’t possibly tell your sire otherwise.”
Kate steeled herself as sharp claws of disappointment tore at her soul. It wasn’t until that moment that she understood how deeply committed she had been to taking the veil—not because she felt she had a vocation, but because at the priory she felt safe and in control of her own destiny. She was never coming back; she knew that. She would become her father’s pawn the moment she stepped outside the walls of the priory. She’d be a means to an end,especially now that her brothers could no longer be instruments of Lord Dancy’s ambition.
The abbess confirmed Kate’s suspicions with her next words. “Catherine, the situation will be easier to bear if you don’t fight it. Don’t give your father reason to be cruel to you. Obey him in all things, and you will please the Lord.”
“Thank you, Mother. I will do my duty by my family,” Kate replied. “When must I go?”
“I sent the messenger to the village to find a bed for the night. He will come for you shortly. God keep you, child.”
Kate closed the door behind her as she left the office. She’d intended to join the sisters for a final prayer, but instead retreated to her cell. She had nothing to pack since she’d renounced all her worldly goods when she arrived at the priory. The gown she’d worn had been given away, so she would have to travel in her habit, veil, and gray woolen cloak. Her only possession was the rosary her mother had given her the day she left home. Kate had always admired her mother’s jet prayer beads, but Anne had given Kate a rosary made of amber. The polished stones were luminous and smooth, each bead unique in color and appearance.
“I got this for you in Newcastle,” her mother had said. “I was going to get you a rosary like mine, but when I saw this one, it reminded me of you. The beads are sunny and beautiful, just like you are, and I want this rosary to bring you hope and light, even on the darkest of days. Say you like it,” Anne had cajoled.
“It’s beautiful, Mother. I will cherish it always.”
