He nodded somberly. “He was wounded at the siege of Chalus. The wound festered and there was nothing the doctors could do.”
She took a backward step and then spun away from them, leaning against the altar as if she did not have the strength to stand alone. Yet when the chaplain and her lady hastened toward her, she flung up her hand, holding them off. Bishop Hugh silently signaled to them, shaking his head. He could see the tremors that shook her slender body. He waited, though, until she turned to face them. Her face was wet, but she’d gotten her voice under control. “Was . . . was there time for him to be shriven?”
“Ah yes, my lady. You need have no fears about that. He made confession to the Abbot of Le Pin, was absolved of his sins, and died in God’s grace. He even forgave the crossbowman who shot him.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, tears continuing to seep through her lashes. “Does the queen know?”
He thought it sad that even Berengaria spoke of “the queen” as if there were only one. Knowing he was about to inflict yet more pain, he said, “She knows. She was with him when he died.”
“I see,” she said softly. “So he sent for her.”
But not me. Although she did not say it, the words seemed to echo in the air between them. Taking her arm, he drew her gently toward a cushioned bench along the wall, gesturing to keep the others from following. “I know why he did not send for you, my lady. They were trying to keep it quiet for as long as they could. His brother was in Brittany, and they wanted to get word to him ere the Bretons found out that the king was dying.”
She stared down at her clasped hands, at the dulled glimmer of her wedding ring. “And it would have attracted attention had I suddenly joined him at the siege.” Again leaving the rest unspoken—Because Richard and I spent so little time together. Whilst a visit from his mother would have seemed quite natural.
“Yes, my lady, it would,” he said, for he believed the truth was always kinder than a lie. Better that she be shamed to realize her marital woes were known to half of Christendom than to believe that her dying husband had nary a thought for her. He hesitated, but remembering that she would have seen men die of such wounds during the siege of Acre, he said, “Then, too, he would not have wanted you to see him in such pain, Madame.”
Her mouth trembled and he reached out, took her hand between his as he spoke of the healing power of God’s mercy, assuring her that she and Richard would be together again, and reminding her of the solace of prayer. She raised her head at that. “Will my husband have to endure much time in Purgatory, my lord bishop?”
“I cannot answer that, my lady.”
“But our earthly prayers can reduce a man’s stay in Purgatory?” And when he nodded, she expelled a ragged breath, closing her eyes again. She found a smile for him, though, when he offered to say Mass for her household. “Thank you, my lord bishop. I would like that very much.” Remembering her duties to a guest then, she offered him the hospitality of Beaufort.
“I will gladly accept a meal, my lady, but I cannot stay the night. After the Mass, I must be on my way. I am going to Fontevrault to preside over the king’s funeral on Sunday. It would be my honor to escort you.”
She was quiet for a time, and then she slowly shook her head. “No, my lord bishop. I will do my grieving here. The funeral is for the queen’s son, not my husband.”
He did not chide her for her bitterness as many priests would have done, and she had the comforting sense that he understood, that he always understood. He left a few hours later, and with his departure, she felt as if she’d lost her only friend. She stood in the bailey, watching as he rode through the gateway and out of sight. Only then did she return to the chapel, rebuffing her chaplain when he would have accompanied her. Tears had begun to flow again, but she let them fall. The small church was filling with shadows as the day’s light waned, the air faintly scented with burning candles and incense. Moving down the nave, she knelt by the altar and began to pray for her husband’s soul.