~The Wheel of Fortune~

September 1468, Fotheringhay Castle....

She had ordered him to come under the cover of darkness, the inky blackness of night serving as the disguise to cloak his arrival. She knew if she'd asked she would not be allow to see him, while in confinement she was meant to be denied the company of any man, even Richard!

The only creature of the male breed she truly was permitted was Roland, her husband's trusty wolfhound whom he'd insisted be there to protect her and slumbered faithfully at her feet. But she knew she had to see him, had to see him one last time before her babe came into the world. They had been parted too long already.

He would not refuse her call, of that she was sure, but still she found herself waiting anxiously by the window of her confinement chamber. The room was dimly lit, the candles lit at dusk now guttering in puddles of melted wax but it mattered not, she didn't need light. Cradling her swelled belly in her arms, she peered out into the courtyard below, listening for the hooves of a horse and the call of a guard who caught the new arrival.

Her hair was loose and she wore only her nightgown but she found she did not care, the past weeks of pregnancy had taken a toll of tiredness on her body like nothing else and she'd quickly cast aside her usual sense of decorum. Besides, he was special, dear to her in a way almost none others were, it did not matter if she wore her nightgown or the crown of England. All that matter was that they met.

Cecily was asleep, as were her ladies, the gaggle of woman that attended upon the young Duchess each day, trying to prepare her for the day where she would give birth. They prayed by her bedside, made her drink concoctions that made Catherine's nose wrinkle in disgust when she smelt them. It felt like she did not breathe without them knowing and now hoped beyond hope that her plan would not be discovered.

Groaning a little, she pressed a hand to her back, the ache that ran down her spine forcing her to sink into the chair by the window. She could never stand for long now, the weight of the babe in her belly hurt her too much and when she was on her feet she often felt she would collapse. It was strange, truly, it felt as if her body was not meant to carry such precious cargo and her she wanted this child so much! If she were not meant to have it, why would she crave it so?

"Ave Maria" She muttered through clenched teeth, hoping the Virgin may take away even an ounce of her discomfort. If she did not then all her hopes rested on her visitor, the man whom she knew could take all of her pain away with one flash of his smile.

A sudden knock at the door made her jump and fright struck at her heart, making her momentarily fear Cecily or one of her ladies had awakened. By God she would be thwarted then!

But her fleeting worry was for naught.

For it was not the Duchess of York that strode through the door, nor any other woman for that matter. The Neville that entered the room did so with a secret smile on his lips and mischief in his eyes as he closed the heavy oak behind him. Brown hair curled about his face, lightly touching the cropped beard he now sported and Catherine could not help but spring to her feet at the sight.

He put a finger to his lips, trying to tell her to be quiet but nothing could calm the excitement that erupted in her veins.

It had been four years since she last lay eyes on him and yet he was no more a stranger than he ever could be. The years simply melted away between them and Catherine found herself bounding into his arms with a squeal, the pain of her swelled belly dissipating into nothing.

"Georgie!" She cried as she jumped into his embrace and George Neville chuckled, clasping her small body close to his while she breathed in his familiar scent of leather and hay "You came to me! You truly did!"

"Of course!" He replied gently, the deep tone of his voice, well known to her ears, making tears prick her eyes "I could never deny an order from you, Cat, but now I am going to order you to bed! You should be resting!" As easily as if he were lifting a feather, he carried her to the bed and lay her carefully on the covers, remembering to plump up the pillows behind.

She went willingly, secretly grateful that he had appeared when he did for tiredness had begun to overwhelm her and her body cried out for a respite. At least when in bed she could settle into the softness of the covers while they talked!

"I heard no horses!" She murmured, watching him and a satisfied grin appeared on his face again.
"Of course you didn't, I climbed over the wall!"
"Over the wall?"

Georgie glanced warily at the chamber door and she immediately shushed herself, tugging him down beside her so she could settle herself comfortably against him "Dickon let me in" He elaborated and Catherine smiled to herself. Her husband had been the only one she'd confided in with her plan to see Georgie. After all, he was really the only one who could make it work and she giggled at the thought of Richard watching his cousin climb over his castle wall!

"How are you?" She asked, peering innocently up at her first husband when he placed an arm around her waist, helping to support her.
"Well" He replied "Haddon is as it has always been and so am I but you...." Amused eyes flicked to her stomach "I am see that you have been rather busy!"

Her light laugh filled the room and he grinned his almost boyish grin. It was strange, that, four years apart and Georgie could still make her laugh as easily as if she were still the little girl he'd once married. Perhaps, somewhere, one small part of her still was and the thought made her sigh as she guided one of his hands to her belly, showing his fingers where to rest.

"Here" She instructed and began to wait "Baby likes to move at night and I think they shall want to say hello to their Godfather, don't you?" Georgie's fingers tensed against her nightgown she grinned at his small gasp of shock "I want my baby to have a protector" She explained, slowly shuffling onto her side to see him clearly "Someone bound to them by God whom I know will love and care for them; defend them. I can think of no man better suited to such a task than you. I trust you with my life and I trust you with the life of my child....will you do it?"

He clasped her hands, pressing a gentle kiss to them while tears pricked his eyes, falling when he nodded.
"Of course!" He murmured solemnly "Of course I will do it Cat....I can think of no greater honour..." His voice trailed away as Catherine suddenly threw herself into his embrace again, locking her arms around his neck while relief flooded through her veins.

"Thank you....thank you, Georgie"

A little foot pressed insistently into the wall of her belly and she smiled, quickly taking one of Georgie's hands and pressing it to the front of her nightgown.
"See!" She declared happily when a little fist pushed at her, followed by a delicate foot again "Baby is pleased!"
"Of course he is pleased!" He chuckled "You are his Mother....just think, you are to be a Mother, Cat!"

Catherine nodded, a pleased smile curving her lips as she tilted up her chin "By God you have grown so much!" One hand gently cupped her face and she was surprised to see tears lit his eyes again, tears of a tender affection that would never fade and pricked at her heart like a sharpened pin "You are a woman now! Truly! In a way....it does not seem real"

"It does not feel real" She admitted with a wry smile, finding it was easy to. With Georgie, everything would always be easy, like fitting a piece into its place in a puzzle. Just like Richard, just like her child, Georgie fit and Catherine settled back against him once more, contemplating the months of her pregnancy "I sometimes think that I shall awake and my baby shall not be real, that it is all a dream but...."

"But you know it cannot be" He finished and she nodded.
"How can it be when in less than seven nights I shall be holding them in my arms....just promise me one thing, Georgie"

"Anything" Was his determined, instantaneous, reply and the warmth of trust filled her heart. If there ever was a man who could happily sit with the noble knights starring in Richard's childhood stories, it would be Georgie and she snuggled into him, laying her head on his chest.

"Stay until after the babe is born" She murmured "You are my brother and as dear to me as anyone ever could be! Besides, I think Dickon may need a little distracting when....when the time comes, he's awfully worried, you know. About me and baby. Even more so than I am I sometimes think!" Georgie sighed and one hand gently brushed its way through her hair, combing through the golden curls just as he used to do when she had her nightmares.

"How could he not?" He asked quietly "how could anyone not when there is so much risk to be had?"

꧁꧂

Cecily strode through the halls with ease, a stern certainty in her step as she nodded to the guards and servants that bowed as she passed, skirts rustling around her. She knew these hallowed halls like the back of her hand, each stone, each step, each it's own memory of times gone by.

Only those memories were filled with laughter. Now the castle of Fotheringhay was quiet, almost silent with only the bells of mass ringing out to remind those who heard it of life. Of course, such quiet reserve was expected after the fright received that morning when her young daughter in law had woken with a dreadful pain in her belly that made her cry out so harshly, Cecily had been sure her ears would split.

Midwives had been sent for, a physician too but, after examining the girl, the old man concluded that the babe was not about to arrive but her body was simply preparing itself. He had given her a tonic to drink, instructed that the fire must be kept lit and after that Cecily and her ladies had left for chapel.

Catherine would surely be alone by now, she thought, and hoped the girl was sleeping, tucked safely in the land of dreams before hell came for her. In truth, though she would never admit it aloud, the sight of the young Duchess sleeping scared Cecily somewhat. Beneath the covers with a soft smile on her face, she looked almost like a young child, too sweet and innocent to bring a babe of her own into the world and yet the swell of her belly was testimony to the opposite.

She could only hope that the birth would be easy, that the pain would not be too great, although she remembered the birth of her own first child with a darkness that always made her shiver. She had been twenty four then and still been sure her body would not be able to bear the pain threatening to split her in two. How would fifteen year old Catherine fare?

Would she bring her child into the world with little struggle or would she....

'No' Cecily shook her head, pausing for a moment to lean against the cool, stone arch of a nearby window. Placing down the small prayer book she held on the ledge, she clutched her rosary to her chest, the polished beads of Whitby jet cool against her fingers. It was wicked to think such dark thoughts that sometimes crossed her mind, almost wishing bad luck to fall and she would not allow that. Not for one moment.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back and once more took up her prayer book, striding through the halls with her usual determination and grace.

Catherine's confinement chamber was dimly lit, as was the custom, the walls draped with tapestries and the shutters almost always barred. Still, shards of sun slipped through cracks in the wood, providing a slight glow to the room that mingled with the light of the fire. Dark shadows danced upon the walls but even they were sometimes a slight comfort, almost entertaining as they curved along the stone.

Closing the door behind her, Cecily slipped into the room laying down her rosary and book by the fire while she lit a nearby taper. Hearing a stifled sob, she glanced over her shoulder only to see with an aching heart that her young daughter in law was not sleeping.

She was crying.

Her knees drawn up to her chest as best she could, the young Duchess' head was bent over, her golden braid a mess of loose curls about her tear-stained face. Shoulders shaking, small cries past her lips, her breaths trembled and Cecily frowned sadly at the pitiful sight.

Taking a moment to pluck the high headdress she wore from her head, she lay the steep hennin to one side and slowly glided towards her daughter in law.
"What is it child?" She asked quietly, perching comfortably on the covers of the bed and Catherine's head jerked upwards in surprise. She had not heard the Neville woman enter.

Flushing red with embarrassment, she tried to wipe her tears away, only to find Cecily catch her hands, gently taking them into her own. Her stern face was surprisingly tender, filled with concern that studied the girl before her "Is there still pain?" Catherine shook her head, continuing to tremble as she tried to summon words to her lips, words she had refused to speak for so long.

"I'm...." Another small sob escaped her "I'm frightened, Mother....I'm scared...."

There. She had said it and grimaced pitifully at her admittance. For months fear of childbirth had lingered at the back of her mind a stirring force that only slightly eclipsed the joyful prospect of holding her baby in her arms. But as the months moved on and, that very morning when she had woken with a tearing pain in her belly, feeling sure she would die, fear had consumed her heart and now it took hold.

While Cecily and her ladies prayed for her health at the chapel alter, she curled into herself on her bed, clutching at the covers for comfort. A storm of fear swirled inside of her heart, it's cold fingers curling around the happiness flowing through her veins and crushing it in an icy fist. For the first time she truly realised how scared she was, how terrified the thought of labour made her young mind.

She was not able, she was so sure she was not able.

The thought of childbirth made her head reel with sickness and with another sob, Catherine leant into Cecily's arms, trying to take comfort in the Duchess' warm embrace "I'm frightened" She whispered again and one elegant hand began to rub soothing circles onto her back, smoothing over the soft linen of her shift "I don't want to do it....I don't want to..."

"You have to" Cecily murmured after a while, gently pushing Catherine back onto the covers and cradling her belly; feeling the babe inside eagerly kick "See? Baby wants to meet you" Hot tears rolled down pale cheeks and the young girl looked away, shaking her head in an almost childlike defiance.
"I don't want to....I don't want to, Mother...."

Cecily placed a hand to her damp cheek, cradling it softly as she used to do to her own children when they cried.
"What are you afraid of?" She asked "What makes you cry so my dearest one?"

"Childbirth" Catherine whispered "The pain but" Her voice hitched "but that is not all....I'm scared that, that my baby will be taken from me, just as I was taken from my family and I...." She shook her head again; words dissolving to desperate sobs as Cecily pulled her into another embrace with tears pricking her own cornflower-blue eyes.

"Oh my sweet child" She whispered, almost cursing herself for her ignorance. Her mind was keen, her eyes all seeing, so how had she not realised, not known, not thought? Of course childbirth was not the only fear that plagued Catherine's young mind! She'd been snatched from her family just as her brother had later been and now she feared the same for her own baby.

Who could blame her?

Cecily for one certainly blamed Warwick, her power hungry nephew and his great plans that cared little for the feelings of others. Her kin owed much to him, that much was true, but she could not help the knot of resentment that tied itself into the strings of her heart, siding with the fierce protection she felt for her daughter in law. She shook her head, cradling the girl that still sobbed in her arms.

"None will take your child" She told her "Not Warwick nor any other. This baby is yours, yours and Richard's and I know for certain he will protect the both of you with his life!"

Catherine drew away, laying back onto the covers while she eyed her swelled belly with worry.
"I love my baby" She whispered "I love them so much, I do not think I could bear them being taken from me. Not for one moment....not for one second but it is not only that. What if...." Her voice quietened even further, softer than a breath on the wind, a prelude to yet more words long gone unspoken "What if my baby dies....like my sisters died...."

"Your baby will not die" Cecily replied firmly, taking her hands and giving them a determined squeeze. Her hearth clenched within her chest though she tried desperately not to let the pain surface upon her face. "Your baby will not die" She said again "You and I will bring this child into the world and raise them to be a fine strong, York. You two will never be parted, I will not allow it!"

Catherine sniffed, grasping at the handkerchief by her pillow and feebly dabbing at her face. Again, she felt her baby kick inside her, a strong little foot or fist determined to make its presence know but it brought no joy to her. Not then. It was only another reminder of what she could lose, what was there but could be gone by the time the sun next set on the horizon.

She feared the turn of the wheel of fortune, feared its dreaded dip in luck would fall upon her when she needed its rise. Looking at the mighty Duchess sat by her, Catherine knew loss was an old enemy to Cecily. She'd lost a husband, a son and countless other kin throughout the wars that wracked England's shores, but, she wondered, had she ever lost a child in the childbed?

"Lady Mother...."

"I have lost children" Cecily answered, knowing the question before it was spoken. There were precious little other questions to be had "Many babes but...." She shook her head, smoothing her braid over one shoulder. To tell the tales of her lost little ones would bring pain to more than herself and that was not needed then. They needed light and happiness "You will not lose this child" She continued "I will make sure of that"

Glancing to the dancing amber flames in the hearth, an idea plucked at her mind. It was one of a childish nature truly but perhaps the dark chamber they sat in needed a hint of youthful innocence, she thought. The four walls surrounding them were familiar, as was the bed and it's embroidered covers, sewn by her delicate hands many moons before.

This had been her daughter Margaret's chamber when she first left the crib in her nursery and, she mused, if the covers and furnishings were the same, perhaps what lay under the bed would be too. Reaching beneath the wooden frame, she smiled when her delicate fingers tapped the lid of the wooden box her young daughter had kept there during her childhood.

"What is it?" Catherine asked softly with another half hearted sniff, watching curiously as Cecily lifted a small chest onto the covers, grey specks of dust lodged deep into the rose of York carved atop it's neglected lid. With a slight smile, the Duchess removed the lid reaching in to retrieve two metal cutouts, fashioned into knights and their horses, mounted on thin sticks of iron.

Holding them up to the nearest candle, she delighted in Catherine's amazed gasp as the shadows of the knights appeared on the wall, their swords drawn and noble steeds ready to charge.

"Here" Cecily offered one of the figures and her daughter in law took it, holding it up to the light of the taper and giggling at its distinct shadow "Margaret used to love them when she was a child, they calmed her and, perhaps they will calm you?" One glance at Catherine's peaceful expression told her her words rang true and she smiled to herself, making her own knight dance across the walls "You will be safe, my daughter" She murmured "And you will make the House of York proud"