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Day Three
Catrin
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“I have summoned you, Catrin, because Margaret tells me she spoke to John le Strange earlier today, and both are concerned that you have taken up with that Welsh quaestor named Reese. Is this true?” The queen plucked at the blanket, adjusting it over her large belly, and continued speaking before Catrin could answer. “I knew a quaestor named Reese, once, but he died. Maybe they are all named Reese.”
Catrin was tempted to tell the queen it was none of her business who one of her ladies-in-waiting had taken up with, as Eleanor had so crassly put it, but she would be wrong. It was precisely the queen’s business.
“Yes, I have been associating with Sir Rhys, but it is because I am concerned about the death of my son’s man, Cole.” She wasn’t going to give anything away, particularly how she felt about Rhys, if she didn’t have to. King Edward knew that Rhys was alive and here. Simon had told him yesterday, and the king himself had spoken with Rhys at the village. That Eleanor seemed completely unaware of these facts and unconcerned about the events of last night (and Catrin’s role in them) was odd—but maybe nobody had told her. On further consideration, Catrin found this likely.
Eleanor pointed to a cup of wine on the bedside table, and Catrin stood to hand it to her. The queen could have reached for it herself, so Catrin well understood the implications: she served at the queen’s pleasure, and she’d best remember it.
And because of that, Catrin took it upon herself to tell the queen the truth. “All quaestors are not named Rhys, madam. As far as I know, there has been, and maybe only ever will be, one.”
Eleanor stared at Catrin for a moment and actually leaned forward slightly, interested in the conversation beyond the pleasure of chastising Catrin. “What are you saying?”
“It is my understanding that this Sir Rhys with whom I have been associating saved the life of Prince Edmund in the Holy Land. He served as quaestor amongst the crusaders and then continued in the role for Prince Edmund for several years, once he returned to England.”
All Normans, but the ladies especially, had perfected the art of not showing surprise. It was more than a little gratifying, then, to have actually said something the queen hadn’t expected. She was rendered speechless for a count of three, after which she said, “The Sir Reese in question is the same Reese de la Croix of our acquaintance? He is here?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Eleanor’s face flushed red with anger, in a very unladylike way, and she hitched herself higher on the bed. “Why has he not made himself known to us?”
“He was in the hall that first evening and made his obeisance with the others.” Catrin didn’t want to put words in Rhys’s mouth, but she thought she was beginning to understand some of what was going on under the surface between Rhys and the king. “I can’t speak for him, but perhaps he feared he would not be remembered fondly.”
“That is not for him to decide. He was the one who left us, after all.” It was a sin of the first order. “We thought he died with Lewellen.”
Catrin looked down at her hands.
“You don’t have to say he meant us to think that.” Eleanor actually snorted.
She was so agitated, in fact, that she threw off the blanket and made a move to rise to her feet. Instantly, Margaret, who’d been sitting near the window working on her needlepoint, was there to help her, with Catrin on the queen’s other side. Once upright, Eleanor threw off their hands. “Leave me be. I’m pregnant, not elderly.”
Now she rounded on Catrin, who couldn’t decide if she was better off looking at her feet or in the queen’s face. “You are to find him and bring him to me immediately!”
Looking down appeared to be the best approach, and Catrin curtseyed. “My lady, it was my understanding he intended to speak to the king last night, with Simon Boydell, whom I believe you also know from that time.”
Before the queen could reply, Margaret handed her the wine goblet, now replenished, and Eleanor took a long drink. Then, holding the cup in both hands and resting the stem on her protruding belly, she studied Catrin. “Simon has served Edmund faithfully these many years. I was glad to hear the king had brought him to Carnarvon to captain his guard. But Reese—” she broke off, shaking her head.
“My apologies, my lady. I truly cannot speak for him.”
“The king thought he was dead.”
Catrin lifted her head and was able to say with absolute truth, “We all did. According to my brother, who confirms the story, Rhys almost died in the ambush at Cilmeri and spent many months on the edge of death in a monastery infirmary.”
Eleanor harrumphed. “He still should have made himself known to us as soon as we arrived.”
“In hindsight, I do believe he regrets his neglect of you and has been searching for a way to make up for it ever since.”
The queen took another long slug of wine. Catrin wouldn’t have said being drunk for the birth of one’s child was necessarily the best way to manage the proceedings, but then, Catrin herself had birthed only one child, not sixteen. When Eleanor held out the goblet to Margaret to refill, her eyes were still on Catrin. “He served Lewellen from the time he left us until his death, did he not?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Was he a loyal servant?” She made a dismissive motion with the goblet, almost slopping the wine it contained over her hand. She didn’t appear to notice. “Of course, he was. The Reese I knew had honor.”
“He was loyal to the end, my lady. That is how he came by his wounds.”
Catrin held her breath, watching the queen’s face. She was more expressive in this moment than Catrin had ever seen her.
“Then he has been punished sufficiently for his mistaken allegiance. My husband has been in a forgiving mood of late.” She rubbed her belly. “We owed Reese a debt, once upon a time. Perhaps we still do.”
The queen’s words brought genuine relief to Catrin, who didn’t reply, thinking it would be better to say nothing than the wrong thing. She was glad she’d had no idea when she woke up this morning that this conversation was in the offing. It could have so easily gone terribly wrong if she’d overthought it.
Eleanor wasn’t finished. “I have fond memories of those times. I will no longer be dining in the great hall, not with the baby due so soon, but you will bring Reese to me here, as soon as he is able.”
Noting the change to a more accommodating tone, Catrin curtseyed yet again. “I will tell him, my lady, the first moment I see him.”
