The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Eleven

The morning light twinkled through the stained glass of Bath Abbey, a rainbow of color. Mary glanced up at it, thinking of God's promise after the flood. The Lord had vowed never again to decimate the Earth; never to abandon His people.

She knelt on the slate floor before the altar and bowed her head, clutching the rosary between her fingers.

Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

...And Lord, this time, let it be Your will that he keeps his word.

With her eyes tightly closed, she could picture James. Was he rising this morning and making preparations for his journey back to Bath? Was he already in a carriage and on his way? It had been a week since he had gone, and it was in a week that he had promised to return.

This time, he had seemed so sincere. And yet... he had seemed sincere before.

Exhaling, she rose to her feet again. She raised her eyes to the heights of the Abbey, to the portraits of Christ and His disciples in colorful depictions in the windows. There He was, turning water into wine; over there, He restored sight to the blind. In one, He brought the dead back to life.

As Mary stepped out of the Abbey, flanked by guards, she prayed that God would choose to do a miracle for that day.

--

"Are you quite certain you have everything?" Mary asked, looking intently at Sarah.

"Yes, Your Majesty, quite certain," Sarah assured her, holding up the small trunk of Mary's clothes.

Mary nodded and let out a breath. She knew that she was perhaps speaking more sternly to Sarah than necessary. Had she not been a queen, she would have apologized; had Sarah not been so attentive, she would have explained. Yet given all that had passed between them, she knew Sarah would understand.

There had, of course, been no need to doubt Sarah. The girl had faithfully dressed her every day for years now, and no doubt would have remembered to pack every necessary garment. She had even done a good job of putting on Mary's bathing costume, which Sarah had not done before. The dress was of an odd fabric - some kind of canvas, and a rather unpleasant yellow color. She had been informed that it was the only thing suitable for the warm waters, for they would discolor and ruin anything else.

"I will just wait here for you, Your Majesty, until you are finished," Sarah said, lingering outside the door.

"You may come in for a moment," Mary assured her. "I am aware that you have some interest in history."

An attendant opened the door. Despite the general interest in taking the waters on Saturdays, this particular bath was empty and quiet, expressly for the queen's purposes. In the center of the bath, where water bubbled enticingly, arose a cross.

"Oh," Sarah said softly, looking around her.

Mary smiled slightly. "This is called the Cross Bath; I suppose you can see why." She stepped closer to the edge of the pool and felt it with her foot. "It was here that lepers and many others have been healed of their afflictions."

Sarah was quiet then; perhaps she had felt the same sacred hush that Mary did when looking upon the bath. Or perhaps it did not seem so miraculous at all, and she was disappointed. Mary would just have to see later whether the powers of the bath might work for her.

"Feel it," Mary offered. "The water is quite pleasant."

Though tentatively, Sarah came forward, and put her fingertips into the water.