In French

Chapter Thirty two

    “What is wrong mama?” August asked when he pulled away.

    “Nothing, my love. Nothing at all. My emotions after giving birth are still all over the place.”

    “He hit you.” August cut across my babbling lies. “Papa hit you didn’t he?”

    I bit my lip before nodding. “Yes he did. When you get married I want you to vow to me that you will never hurt your wife no matter how infuriating she becomes. Never, do you hear me? You must never, it is unforgivable and inexcusable.”

    “I am not like that.” August told me curtly.

    “Neither am I.” Louis piped in.

    I kissed both of their foreheads. “Good. Treat others how you would like to be treated. What was it that you wanted?”

    “To see if the shouting people had gone away.” Louis gave me a half smile.

    “Yes, my love, they have.” I smiled through the tears at him.

 ******

    Three days later I sat in the throne room in my throne beside Philip and it was tremendously difficult not to burst out into floods of tears. Some nothing man gettied tried for some little thing that I cared nothing about. What mattered when innocent men were slashed from life while innocently and unprepared reading? Reading! Senor Vargas was too tame for those lies to ever be anywhere near truth! I despised all those involved with his murder and muddying his name. "I suppose you are not talking to me anymore are you?" Philip had mused as we sat awkwardly opposite each other at a ball that had untimely clashed with Senor's killing. People were using it as an excuse to celebrate. I would not have attended but it would only make matters worse.

    It was awful having to sit silently when the room was swarming with these creatures. Lies lies lies, I was surrounded by filthy unholy liars and it was sickening.

    I had four guards stood near me at my request as being shut in a room with all these diabolical liars was frightening. I kept sending private prayers up to the Saints begging for Senor to be safe on the other side. He would not be meeting his murderers again, they could ask for forgiveness all they liked but they would end up in hell. There was no other way around it.

    “Anna?" My eyes obediantly rested upon Philip's but there was no emotion there. What emotion I felt was thrashing around in my heart and soul as I silently mourned desperately over Senor Vargas. I kept picturing his poor mangled body, carelessly destroyed on his study floor. A small sob lurched up my throat involuntry, out of the corner of my eye Philip's head snapped in my direction. "You are not fine are you?"

    "I am perfectly fine, thank you My Lord." I answered a little testily as I fought for emotional control.

    The music was light, upbeat, joyous in its sound and everywhere I looked people were laughing and joshing with one another so selfishly absorbed in living right here and now. It struck me then that I had a way of feeling grief in such a deep, endless kind of way that was quite unlike everyone else and I did not know how to make of that news. I had to remain stony faced.

    Philip, sitting comfortably and appearing slightly bored by the whole ordeal, watched on at the dancers in their large heavy costumes prancing about playing a flirtatious game of courtly love. I wanted to scream at these low lives, wanted to demand that they have respect for a man that has been a great asset in running their country for the past fourteen years. Instead I was made to sit there in silence. I watched as a pretty girl caught his eye and he got up, bee lining straight for her.