Chapter 208: The Right Words
20 March, 1361. Marquessate of Niarnol, Islia
The small royal party rode all day north, through quiet countryside until they reached a small village nad Girasol just as the sun was about to start setting.
William had already decided they would stop in the village for the night - more specifically, in its small but prosperous monastery.
Every hour that passed, he grew more anxious about his wife. Camilla hadn’t uttered a word after hearing about Ned Michal’s death that morning, clearly in shock. She had ridden all day in complete silence, had taken her al breaks and rest stops in silence, eyes wide and blank.
William sent one of their escorting knights into the monastery, to request lodgings for the royal couple and their travelling companions. Shortly afterwards, the abbot himself ca to the gates to lead them inside, telling them it would be his monastic order’s pleasure to take them in for the night.
William and Camilla were led to an airy guest chamber by a young, freckle faced monk. William glanced around and was relieved to see that everything inside the room was plain, but clean and comfortable.
"Can I offer you so dinner now, Your Graces? I’m happy to lead you to our dining hall." the monk asked with a polite smile.
William shook his head. "Thank you but we’ll eat here instead. Have dinner brought to us here in an hour and a hot bath an hour after that."
Camilla just stared into space, as if quite deaf to both of them.
The young monk bowed and hurried out. William locked the door behind him and walked over to his wife. She said nothing, showing only mild surprise when he picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. Laying her down carefully, he removed her riding boots. Then he removed his own boots and tunic and lay next to her.
Gently tracing her ashen face by running a finger down her jaw, he struggled to speak for several monts.
"I don’t know what the right words are." William finally said, frowning. "I don’t think anything I say will make this any better for you. But I can see how sad you are about Ned and I’m sorry this all ended like it did."
That was all it took. Camilla began to sob.
Fuck, thought William. He hated seeing his wife cry, truly hated it. He pulled her against him and rubbed her back as her entire fra was wracked with sobs.
Camilla tried to speak a few tis but she was too choked up. William could feel the shoulder of his shirt soaking up her tears.
"Shhhh." He tried to soothe her as he stroked the back of her neck. "It’s as you said. Ned’s free now. He doesn’t have to worry about a title hanging around his neck like a millstone."
"H-h-he said...said that I was his only friend. To have lived s-so many years without kindness or friendship...how is that possible?" Camilla burst into fresh tears. "He was a good man, and so clever! But no one bothered to find out."
"Fuck. That is terrible." William felt a sharp twinge of guilt in his belly. He was one of those people who had simply dismissed Ned Michal as a weak minded fool, having taken the marquis’s description of his son at face value. He’d never stopped to scratch beneath the surface to see if those words had been true.
Apparently no one had, until his sweet natured wife.
"So fathers are very hard taskmasters. Anything less than perfection from a son won’t do." William said softly, thinking of his own father. "I’m not excusing what Lord Michal did, I’m just saying his attitude isn’t unique. I understand how poor Ned found himself in that situation."
"So he wouldn’t have been as agile on the battlefield as his elder brother. So what? That’s not a reason to disregard an entire person and label them completely useless." Camilla’s eyes blazed over the injustice, tears clinging to her long lashes. "Being skilled on the battlefield doesn’t necessarily make soone a good man."
"Yes. That I know well." he replied gruffly, thinking of his late friend Richard.
She rubbed one of her eyes and whispered. "And I feel like Ned’s death is my fault. I drove him to it."
"Why would you ever think that?"
"Because when he told
about Lord Michal’s misdeeds, I said to him I couldn’t keep quiet. I said I’d have to tell you and that you’d tell King Edward. Ned said he understood." Camilla began to hiccup. "But he would’ve known that once the king heard of it, his father would’ve been imprisoned and he’d be forced to beco the new marquis. There was nothing he dreaded more. By pushing him to tell
the truth, I left him no choice but to die."
William exhaled slowly. "From what you’ve told , it sounds like he was determined to take his own life regardless. A noble title, especially one as prestigious as this one, isn’t sothing you can avoid. Ned would’ve been forced to take his father’s place eventually, no matter what you’d done. You can try, but you can’t really outrun your fate."
Camilla was quiet for a long ti, mulling over his words. She finally asked, "Did you ever wish you could outrun yours?"
"Many tis, as a lad. When I was unhappy and couldn’t see past my own struggles. But I was fortunate enough to eventually find my own place. Just as well." He pinched her cheek lightly. "I don’t think you would’ve looked at
twice if I’d been a re peasant. Especially since you’re always telling
I’m not as charming as I think I am."
He managed to coax a smile out of her - a weak, watery smile. Camilla sat up on the bed and began pulling her hair out of the braid her maid had wrangled it into that morning.
"The last day we t, Ned shared his favourite cake with . I wish I’d known then, that we’d never speak again. I would’ve begged him to think of another solution." Her expression was one of devastation.
William bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t comnt on being unhappy his wife had shared cake with another man. I may not be the most intuitive man around but even I realise that would sound extrely petty, he grimly told himself.
Instead, he rubbed Camilla’s back. "If he’d already made his decision and made peace with it, you wouldn’t have been able to talk him out of it. And he wouldn’t have wanted you to try. If you were truly his only friend, then you probably gave him so of the happiest tis of his life over the last few days."
Camilla’s face crumpled again, making her look like a heartbroken little girl.
"Sorry! Sorry!" William yelped with rising panic. "I didn’t say that to make you cry more! Why do my words always make bad situations worse? Goddamn!"
At that, Camilla actually laughed. "It’s alright. You’re not making anything worse. I just think to myself...what if the world were to treat my son as cruelly as it did Ned? Knowing that would kill ."
William sat up as well. "You can’t really compare. Malcolm’s a healthy boy. He has every chance of living a good life."
"But what if an accident befalls him? Or an illness that stops him growing up strong?"
"That could happen to any of us, though." he pointed out slowly. "If you start thinking about all the awful things that could befall us, then none of us should ever set foot outside our bedchambers. You can’t let your mind go down that path, otherwise you’ll never stop."
"I know." she croaked. "I can’t control everything that happens to our son and the thought terrifies . I just don’t ever want him to feel that our love is, well, conditional. Am I even making sense?"
"Yes. And I know what you’re trying to ask
without using the words. If Malcolm ends up being a poor knight or a drunk or a complete dissolute, I’ll still love him. I’ll do my damndest to beat those habits out of him for his own good." William smiled bitterly. "But I won’t ever withdraw my love."
"You truly an that?" Camilla watched him with red rimd eyes.
"I do. Because Ned is an example of having lived with conditional love. And I’m an example of having lived with no parental love at all. Our son deserves better." William swallowed the pinch in his throat that was making him sound like he’d swallowed a mouthful of gravel.
Camilla tucked her knees up against her chest and rested her chin on them, looking up at him with a soft little smile. "See? Sotis your words aren’t so bad."
He smiled back and kissed her forehead, running a hand through her hair. "A rather backhanded complint, wife. But I can promise that Malcolm is stuck with
for all my days, the sa way you are."
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