~A Divine Secret~

April 1465, Middleham Castle....

While the hustle and bustle of servants packing for a move to court was enough to set anyone's mind spinning, Catherine's thoughts were silent as a page boy passed her a sealed letter with her name written on the front in an elegant hand.

The elegant hand of her Mother.

It had been five years since she had seen the beautiful Eleanor De Poynings, five years since she had been in her beloved Mother's arms but she had never forgotten her handwriting. The letters flew across the page in elegant strokes, twisting and twirling in a dance all their own, one that used to mesmerise younger Cathrine.

Now it only worried her.
For it had also been five years since she had heard from her Mother. There had been not a word, not a note, not a single letter. Not from any of her kin, her brother, her Father, her Mother.

Until now.

Nodding to the boy that handed it to her, she waved him away along with the rest of the chattering servants, bidding the women that held her jewels to lay them down at once so that she might have peace. Margery was the only one she ordered to stay, letting her linger at the back of the bedchamber while she sank onto the chair of her dressing table, turning the letter around with trembling hands.

Her eyes looked at the red seal, the Percy crest pressed into the hardened wax and one she had not seen for so very long. Catherine brushed a finger against it, finding tears filled her eyes at the slight contact; a reminder of her home, of her family.
"Why now?" She whispered softly, peeling back the seal and unfolding the parchment as carefully as her hands would allow so that she could see the rest of her Mother's elegant writing "Why now?"

Her mind could only conjure the worst from its dark depths, it had been trained to do so, and she feared that grief would once more consume her. What if she read her Mother's words only to find her brother Hal was dead? That the Nevilles had vanquished him, a mere boy of fourteen, and she had had another she loved forever taken from her? She's just begun to hope her strength would return.....her brother's death would banish it completely.

"Read" Margery told her encouragingly, as if able to read her thoughts "You will only know the worst once you do"

Catherine nodded, smoothing out the parchment with one hand before she set her gaze upon it, a single, shaking breath passing her lips. The last she feared she would ever take.

My dearest, darling daughter, Cate,

I write with little hope that you may receive this after the years of torture that have been wrought upon our family due to our separation from you, my darling. I fear day and night that you feel we have forgotten you, that we do not write because we do not wish you but I tell you now, Cate, we do and we have. For five whole years.

There has not been a week where I have missed putting quill to parchment for you, my jewel, and every week my heart has been broken a little more when my letter is returned to me. I can only think it is Warwick's doing but with news such as I bear I think even he would want you to hear it, my love.

Prepare yourself, Catherine, for sad tidings, ones I never wished to bring but do so all the same for the sake of your heart and for mine. I would not want you to hear it from any other.

Your brother, our dearest Henry, has had his birthright stripped from him by the York King. He is but a child, almost an innocent in the world, in his youth, but still the York has found fault with him and with our family once more. Not only has he trapped you in a marriage with his brother and killed your Father, Catherine, he has taken the Earldom of Northumberland from Henry; giving it to John Neville. Warwick's brother.

It is as unjust as it is painful but what can we expect from the Yorks, my darling? Justice? I doubt they know the word.

We have been exiled from our home, sweet girl. Alnwick is no longer ours and we have been forced to Tattershall Castle in Lincolnshire; our servants restricted. It is minuscule compared to our beloved home and no better than a prison for we have been subjected to Yorkist guards who watch our every move. I do not doubt that they shall read this letter too! To write this does not lay heavy on my heart simply because of the weight of loss it bears for our family but for the next words which I must say to you. I take no pleasure in saying them, Cate, they burn me like a brand and will singe a mark into my flesh for all of my years.

The truth is, my dearest daughter is that we can no longer try for you. I take it that you will know of the effort your Father made for you, of the war he waged to try and return you to our care. It is the truth that this cannot happen again. Your brother is a child and we are fallen from grace, all Lancastrians, not just our kin. We have neither the forces nor the fortune to wage another campaign for your freedom, my love, and it breaks my heart to admit it.

You are our only hope now, Cate. With your close ties to the throne through the King's brother (whom I can only pray is good to you), you are the only one that can ever save us. You occupy one of the highest positions in the land, second only to the Queen who we all know is a commoner but you can use her as an ally. She is Lancastrian though she has married a York and the Woodvilles fought for your Father in his campaign for you. They will have not forgotten that. Befriend her Catherine, grow close to her. I beseech you to listen to me and to help us.

For our kin, you are the one they all look to.
Our saviour.

There is but one good thing that can come from the bad that swarms us at present and it is for you, my sweet girl. Now that Alnwick is in Neville possession, as are you, I feel that this may be your chance to see your beloved Father once more. He is in our chapel, as all Percys are, and I know that he longs for you to visit him as I know you will long to do the same.

You were the Pearl of his world, Cate, you were his heart and to know that you were lost to him on Earth broke his heart, as it did mine. By God's grace, we may be reunited in life but for your Father, you may only be reunited in death. Go to him, my darling, see him and say the goodbyes you never got to say. See him, Cate, and see our home once more. A home we will one day reclaim.

I beseech you, sweet child, go and see your Father if you are able. Go home and know that his spirit is with you as I and your brother shall one day be, but in body.

I love you with all my heart, my precious jewel, and know there is not a day that goes by where you are not in my thoughts or in my heart.

Your ever-loving Mother
~ Eleanor

Catherine looked up from the page to feel her cheeks wet with tears, her chest heaving with sobs that contorted her face into an expression of pure pain. With a quiet cry, she clutched the letter to her chest, holding it close as if it were her Mother, her dearest Mother whom she longed to embrace more than anyone living. Eleanor had not forgotten her, she loved her, she cared for her.

She, Cathrine Percy, was still loved by her kin.

It was a comfort to know but also a torture, dissolving the little comfort she had known taking refuge in the friendly affection of her husband when she tried to cast her family from her mind. Now all she knew was pain, a pain that stabbed at her heart and made her weep. Her shoulders shook as she leant forward onto her dressing table, tears streaming down her face and dropping onto the page she held.

"She loves me" She sobbed "He loved me! He tried for me! He truly tried for me!" Margery's gentle hands rested upon her arms, drawing her into an embrace from behind; cradling her.
"Of course she loved you, sweet Cat! How could you think otherwise?"

"I don't know!" Catherine cried, screwing her eyes tightly shut like a young child did to hide from the world "But she loves me! And now she suffers! My brother's title has been taken, they have been all but forgotten by the crown! And they do not have my Father to help them! Only me!" Margery's grip on her tightened and the Duchess forced her eyes to open again, sniffing while her Mother's words ran through her mind over and over again.

'You were the pearl of his world'

And she knew they were true. Catherine had been the pearl of the Earl's world, his only living daughter. He would tell her sometimes, she remembered, in an evening when she would sneak to his study from her chamber and sit herself happily in his lap. Oh, how she missed him, his warm embraces and gentle voice that her mind could not recall.

She had to see him.

"Call my husband to me" She suddenly commanded, her voice causing Margery to jump "I want him to take me to Alnwick"
"But, my Lady!" She gasped, looking to the partly-packed coffers and jewels laid in their golden caskets. "We are ordered to travel to court...." Her voice trailed away when Catherine pushed her body away from hers, fixing her stony gaze on the mirror in front.

"Fetch his grace, Margery" She repeated cooly, eyes flicking to meet hers "Now" The older girl quickly curtsied, taken by surprise by the image of a great Lady suddenly presented to her, firm and commanding. If not startled, she was rather impressed and scurried away with a secret smile on her face while Catherine was left alone.

Her face softened once more as she looked towards the page she held again, brushing her fingers across the dancing flicks of ink that formed letters. Dickon would not deny her her wish, she would make sure of that. He was fond of John, fond of her and an independent journey free of command from any would appeal to him.

In any case, she was determined and would let no boy nor man stand in her way, however much she wanted her husband by her side. It was strange that she wished it to be so but she wanted Dickon, she wanted him with her. He was the only man living (apart from Georgie) that she wanted by her side, almost wanting her Father to see him, taking her arm, holding her steady when she needed; the net that caught her when she fell.

'I am safe, Father' She wanted to say, wanted to show 'I am not married to a beast, I am married to a boy, a kind one!'

Yes, he would not deny her and she would not allow herself to be denied.

꧁꧂

One week later, Northumberland....

He had not denied her, he had not even tried, but as the looming towers and walls of Alnwick drew ever closer, Catherine had begun to wish he had.

The sight of her old home with its pale stone and glass windows that glimmered in the sun, a torture in itself. They loomed over her but did not kindle the flames of fondness within her soul that she'd expected, instead she only felt torment and was tempted to steer the palfrey she rode in the opposite direction!

Dickon rode beside her, smartly dressed in a new burgundy doublet that had been intended for court but he now wore proudly. 'You are to see your Father. You are returning home' He had told her when she asked why he wore it and Catherine had been intrigued, at first assuming that he wore it to please his cousin, John.

But she did not linger on the thought.
"It is no longer my home" She replied steadily before taking the hand he offered to lead her out into the inn yard where their horses waited.

Now, as she rode towards the imposing castle, she felt that her words were true. Alnwick was no longer her home. Her Mother was not there, her brother was not there....and it could not be home without them. Only her ancestor's bones remained, reminding the new Neville residents of the family they had replaced.

This was not her home, it never could be again, and she realised, with a bitter pang, that she did not have a home. She was a lost soul drifting wherever others commanded and even now, when she had been the one to guide the way, she was still lost.

"Are you well, my Lady?" Dickon asked as he reigned in his palfrey beside hers, staring up at the looming gatehouse of the castle that was patrolled by Neville guards walking up and down the curtain wall attached to it. There was not one flash of red and yellow in sight. Despite her cloak, Catherine shivered, not from cold and not from fear but from a sudden bolt of fire that flashed through her.

"Do you want to turn back?" Margery asked from behind, her voice concerned as were the faces of the guards that accompanied them. The Duchess shook her head, nudging her palfrey onwards towards the gatehouse where the wooden doors swung open to meet them, beckoning them inside.

Onwards she went, inhaling the heady smell of the bonfires that burned in the courtyard, banishing the cold of winter that lingered in the Northern lands. Soldiers stood around them, rubbing their gloved hands together; liveries bound tight around their armour. She remembered the times when her Father's guards would do the same, huddling together to keep what little warmth they had while the noble family resided inside.

On that day they did not. Crossing under the stone arch that led to the main stone keep, the Duke and Duchess soon spotted the Nevilles that waited upon the steps. John stood tall and proud, watching over the arriving party with a small smile on his lips. A woman stood beside him, dressed in velvet robes and holding a small boy in her arms. His little hands clung to her chestnut hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands and she cooed affectionally.

The new Countess, Catherine realised, and the new heir. She was sure he was nothing compared to her brother, he was a newborn babe, cheeks still pink and slightly wrinkled from birth while Henry was all but a man! Trying to distract herself, she turned her eyes to the gaggle of children that stood beside John's wife, four small girls with hair the same hue as their Mother's and gowns as fine as Cathrine remembered hers had been.

Standing all together upon the castle steps, they looked a true family and the young Duchess was suddenly struck with the thought that.....this is what her family would have looked like. If her dear Mother had not lost the four daughters she carried then she too would have had little girls playing around her feet instead of the hot tears she shed while she cradled her only surviving one.

All too soon, the party had reached the steps and John walked down them, his arms outstretched in welcome just as they had been at Middleham.
"Dickon!" He greeted merrily and the boy eagerly responded to his call, jumping nimbly from his horse to be tugged into a firm embrace "And, of course, Catherine!"

Catherine looked up as her name was spoken, finding she had cast her eyes to the ground below for a moment, almost trying to deny the scene before her. But Dickon was soon at her side, grasping her waist while he lifted her from her saddle and lowering her to the ground where she was forced to acknowledge John's bow with a nod.

"May I present my wife, Isabel?" He asked, gesturing to the lithe woman who had now stepped to her husband's side; umber eyes kind and inviting. Still, her little boy played with her hair, his head resting against her chest that was swelled beneath her bodice.
"Your grace" She greeted warmly, sinking down into a curtsy while her gaggle of girls swarmed behind her, taking to staring at the new arrivals like they were Gods.

"A Princess, Mama!" One whispered, tugging at Isabel's skirts until she looked down, a gentle shush on her lips.
"This is Princess Catherine" She told her and her other daughters "Wife to Prince Richard, the King's brother"
"The King's brother" Another girl echoed, stepping forth to stare up at Dickon with innocently wide eyes that tempted a small smile to Cathrine's lips.

"Now now, Lucy" Her Father chided, pulling her back by her small shoulder "Dickon is not an animal to be gasped at, is he?"
"No, Papa" Lucy answered, an embarrassed rosy blush staining her cheeks while she shrank back a little. Dickon merely smiled, bending easily down to the small child's level and pulling a sapphire ring from his finger.

"From me to you, little one" He told her, placing the golden band into her small hand and closing her fingers over it with a grin. Catherine's breath caught in her throat, finding her chest suddenly warming as she watched her husband and John's daughter. He would be a good Father, she quietly thought, gulping (though not with fear) when she realised that if he was to be a Father, it would mostly be her child he was a Father to.

She quickly shook her head, ridding her mind of the thoughts that reminded Catherine of the true reason why she had returned to Alnwick and felt a desire to see her wish met. To see her Mother's wish met. She needed peace, she needed her Father.

"John?" She called while Dickon stood once more and immediately John's attention was turned to her. He seemed to know what she wanted, stepping forward with an almost sympathetic smile on his lips before he spoke.

"Go to the chapel....I know you do not need me to take you there"

꧁꧂

Despite her six long years away from the hallowed halls that surrounded her, Catherine found that John was right. Her feet glided along the stone beneath her, guiding her through the corridors and up the steep staircases that led to her family's chapel.

As she stepped through the open door that guarded the icy chamber where her deceased kin lay, her clothes were suddenly bathed in a flood of multicoloured light. It was no act of god, no miracle to welcome her home, the rays streamed in a flowing river from the windows of stained glass that decorated the far wall of the chapel. Percy lions and crescents were set into the delicate glass, the arms of Lancaster and the red rose surrounding them.

They assured even God himself of their alliance but Catherine was simply relived to see they had not been replaced. Again, her feet moved automatically, taking her across the floor to the nearest window where one hand rose, pressing against the colourful glass. It was cold beneath her fingers but pleasantly so, the icy feeling comforting her in a way she had not felt before.

In silence, her fingertips traced the curved shapes of glass, tracing the faces of the lions, the petals of the rose until they brushed upon a golden crescent. The stream of amber light that cascaded from it flashed before her eyes, flowing behind her, almost pointing, begging her to turn, to show her something....

She did as the light bade, slowly turning around, eyes following the golden trail running across the chapel until her gaze fell upon the tomb it rested on. A chiselled face lay beneath a helmet of carved stone, strong and powerful, even though it was lifeless. A body garbed in armour followed, gauntleted hands clutching a real sword to the figure's chest.

Her Father's sword, she realised.
This was her Fathers grave.

A shuddering gasp passed her lips and her feet took charge once more, guiding her across the chapel floor to where the tomb lay; carved effigy placed atop it, just as every other Percy's was. Her hesitant hands reached out to touch it, trembling when they brushed across the cold stone, tracing the dead Earl's hands and then the sword they held.

The sword he had used to fight the House of York and the one he had died with; the one he now possessed forever in death. Catherine found tears fill her eyes as she touched the cold metal, her shoulders trembling with a forbidden sob. It was not right for her Father to be so cold, she thought. He who had been so warm when he chose, it was not right.....

"Is the effigy a likeness?"

Dickon's gentle voice startled her, though she knew he had followed her through Alnwick, and her tears finally fell, gliding down her cheeks and onto the icy stone below.

"I....I do not know" She stammered, finding a sob flights it's way from her throat at the confession "I do not....remember"

"What do you remember of your Father?" Dickon asked softly, leaning back against the chapel wall with sympathy swimming in his dark eyes. He knew the pain of losing a Father....but he remembered his, his merry smile and deep laugh. He did not think he could bear the loss if he did not. Another sob left Catherine, her shoulders shaking slightly.

"I do not remember him" She wept, her fingers clinging to the stone effigy harder, trying to Will it to life. "When I close my eyes, I no longer see his face.... when I listen I no longer hear his laugh....when I cry I no longer feel his arms around me" Her face contorted with pain and she bent her head, hot tears flowing freely from her eyes "All I know is that I loved him and he was taken from me. I never got to say goodbye"

Hands trembling, she stifled another sob. How many lives had the wars that wrecked England claimed? How many were dead? How many children now lived without Fathers? 'Too many to count' She thought miserably, thinking of her own true faith in Lancaster, how she had denied their acts as ones to secure their throne. But was her beloved house truly free of blame?

It was not just York, it was Lancaster too that killed. Both houses fought, both houses won and both houses lost but there was one score of people that always lost, no matter which house they worshipped. The people left behind. The women and children that did not fight yet were made to suffer as the consequences of the wars fought between the nobility.

So many had been lost, so many were mourned.

So many were dead. Too many.
Too many were too young to die, her Father had only been thirty nine, and yet died anyway, fighting for wars not of their making, leaving their families in the grip of grief.

Tears still sliding down her face, Catherine took a breath, placing her hands more firmly on her Father's tomb as she thought of the wars that had wrecked the land. They had brought England to its knees and still rebels rumbled.

"My Father, my Grandfather, your Father, your brother, your cousins, my cousins" Another shaking breath passed her lips "It's never going to stop, is it? This war is never going to stop" Dickon shifted behind her, pushing himself from the wall so he could walk to her.
She did not look at him. Not once.

"The bloodshed and grief is never going to stop! York and Lancaster will fight until we are all dead, I see that now. This is not about who can take the crown, who can place their heirs upon the throne, this is about hatred. This is about who can kill who first and revel in the death of their enemies!" Her trembling voice rose to a shout, one so full of anguish it made her husband's heart ache and tears pool in his own eyes.

"It will never stop!" She cried "Not even when one side prevails will it stop! I know all of them, I know both sides. If they do not have a common enemy they turn on one another like snakes and so the bloodshed continues! My Father saw it in the Dukes that would fight for power over King Henry and I see it in Warwick and even George! In the House of York!"

Catherine shook her head, sobs wracking her body as Dickon began to cry too, silent tears gliding in ghostly trails down his pale cheeks.

"You will destroy each other because you have no other enemy to fight. You crave death more than you crave life and it will never end. One day the Sunne in splendour shall be put out but I fear it will not be be put out by Lancaster, it will be whichever York survives this den of wolves, then goes on to destroy himself. On and on we will go, hiding, fighting, living in fear that each sunset will be our last and one day it will be. And everyone else will be dead too. The ground of England will be soaked with blood, the blood shed by hatred"

She shook her head, her voice disintegrating to a harsh whisper "A hatred that will never stop. Never"

Catherine gulped, her fingers moving to grasp the metal sword the figure of her Father held. They curled around the icy steel, gripping it with all the strength they possessed until the metal bit into her flesh and the young Duchess hissed with pain.

"Cate!" Dickon exclaimed, his hands covering her own and snatching them away from the sword as beads of crimson blood began to appear, streaking across her palms "Come here" He pulled the handkerchief he carried from his sleeve, he wasted no time in tearing it in two; tying each unmarked strip around his young wife's wounds with a practiced ease.

Still, Catherine cried, just as he did, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto the rich velvet of her cloak in glistening clear droplets. 'It will never stop' her mind told her 'Never, never, never' and she wept because of it, hanging her head until Dickon gently brought her into his arms. His embrace was warm and tender, comforting to the girl he held and allowed to cry upon his shoulder.

"I will keep you safe" He told her, repeating the precious words he would whisper to her every night, every day when her fears would arise "I will keep us both safe, Catherine. You can count on that"
"I want to go" She simply replied "This is not my home and I want to leave....let us go to court, Dickon, let us leave" Raising her head from his shoulder, she was relived to see him nod, a heavy wave of the feeling she never dreamt she would feel at Alnwick.

But she did and she knew she could never return because of it.

"Take me away, Dickon" She whispered softly and her husband nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist as he guided her from the chapel.