No Fury

Then: Fifty One

What followed is a story I could not tell in the moment.

I was mad, you see. Not only crazed, not only angry, but vengeful.

My fists carried thunder, my heart carried flames.

Catroina took my child to Maria. I did not blame her; surely Maria threatened Catroina's life or children.

But I was left alone with the gore of my birth and the milk in my breasts and no memory of my child at all.

No time to count his fingers, kiss his toes.
No moment to gaze at him and call him by the name we chose.

I cleaned myself with the cloths Catroina left behind. Weakly, I pulled my dress back on. I devoured the food they brought for me. I needed my strength.

I will kill her.

I counted to one hundred.
And then again.
And again.
And I did it two hundred times, never once losing my place.

With my bare hands, I will kill her.

I didn't even want Harry to come home yet. I wanted him to stay away one day past my freedom. Because if he returned before I was free, he would slaughter her with his sword, and it would be too easy.

She deserved a tiny taste of poison, trickled into her over the span of weeks.
The shallow thrust of a dagger.
Parching thirst. Stabbing hunger.
Pain.

~~

But, you see, Maria was a coward. How could she feed my child when she was too afraid of the villagers' wrath to send a soldier out to seek a wet nurse?

I heard his tiny cries before I saw him. They echoed down the staircase, reaching my ears one sharp, angry squawk at a time.

I heard the shuffle of heavy feet, now, the clanging of metal upon metal as my cell was opened.

The guard dropped down beside me, face stained with tears.

"My lady," he said, voice choked.

With ravenous hands, I pulled my child out of his arms and into my own. We may all drown in here with the tears, I thought.

"You are a monster," I hissed up at the man. "What you have done in allowing this . . . you are not loyal to this king."

This enormous guard was trembling on his knees beside me. "Your babe is hungry. We know not what to do."

I glared him until he turned away.

My child was tiny, and we were both new to this, but I pulled at my dress, brought him to my breast. Instinct made him wild, madly searching for me.

"Ah," I praised him as he began to nurse. "There you are. There you go, my love."

Big eyes, clear as the sky.
Full pink mouth, so hungry.

He was frantic and trembling. His tiny hand smacked my chest as he jerked, slowly calming as I held him, skin to skin.

He made tiny noises as he ate, eyes falling closed.

"I'm your Mummy," I whispered. "And I love you very, very much."

I pulled the blankets aside, letting my hungry gaze take it all in.

Dimples in his cheeks as he swallowed.
Ten fingers.
Ten toes.
A pounding, thriving heart.

I blinked as my eyes moved lower.
My tears slipped from my chin, dropping onto her tiny chest.

Not a son. A baby girl.

"Well, hallo Princess Anne."

When I bent, kissing her head, she smelled like the rain, like air infused with sunshine.