Yorkshire, England
May 18, 1471
"Happy birthday, my beauties!" Father greets happily, his face a glad glow toward Anne and I.
We are now twelve years old. We curtsy to our father, our heads bowed down low to have his blessing. He and Mother touch our copper heads with their palms, and they give a prayer for us, then they release us and we slowly get up, our face beaming brightly. Mother spreads her arms and hands in a wide gesture.
"Come here, my darlings," she says, smiling. We come into her arms and she wraps us in a sweet embrace, rocking my us gently. "You're both glowing beauties, and I cannot be more proud to be your mother," she whispers in our ear. Anne laughs in delight, and I tighten my embrace around Mother's slim waist, inhaling her sweet fragrance of lavender and rosemary.
"I thank you, Mother," I mutter, looking up at her beautiful face. Anne nods in agreement, and I let go and turn to Father, who is standing beside Mother. "I thank you, Father. To both of you."
He kneels down, the large giant he is, and is now facing me, eye-to-eye. He grins and weaves his fingers into my silky, titian mane. He looks into my eyes and then cups my small face into his big hands, kissing me full on the lips, just a quick peck. I laugh and he nuzzles my nose. "Ah, Venise. I shall now give you your present, my sweet poppet."
"Me too, Father!" Anne exclaims, her face contorted in fury, though she is now calmer as she sees Father barking a laugh and coming near her, doing the same as he did to me. Methinks Anne is jealous, though I cannot be sure. She hides her expressions well. Father kissed her on the lips, but he did not cup her face in his hands nor did he call her his sweet poppet or his Anne. I raise my brows at that, but continue to look at them. He stares at my beaming beautiful sister, and I see him give a little frown at her, though he smiles warmly in an instant. Maybe he read something in her mind, but I am not positive about my thought.
Mother calls for a page to get the gifts, and she touches my shoulder as she walks by, taking Father's arm for a moment as they begin to talk, their eyes on each other, facing the window of the solar room, their backs on us. I walk toward Anne, looping my hand through hers.
"What say you, sister? 'Tis a special day! I am right glad." I smile at her.
She looks at me, her dark eyes flashing, black and white flecks flaring. "How come Father calls you his poppet all the time, though not to me?" she demands in a low hiss.
I stare at her and blink. "I...don't know, Anne. But we are equal in his love for us, so you need not worry," I assure her calmly.
She pouts and nods. "Oh aye, dear sister; but I must confess that 'tis not fair he always gives you attention more than I. I admit I was jealous when he kissed and held you gladly a moment ago." I squeeze her hand gently, searching her eyes squarely. She grins. "Not to worry! I am all right now. Though 'tis a relief that I told you this feeling of mine toward you and Father."
"I am happy you told me this." Someone knocks on the door and a page enters the solar and bows down to all of us. He comes near and puts down the presents to us, and two more servants come in bearing other gifts. Anne squeals in delight, while I giggle. The page bows down again to us, and he looks at me for a moment, our eyes meeting. He is a handsome boy for a servant, and I start to blush. He smirks, winks, and retreats, going back outside along with the other servants.
Father, Mother, and Anne did not seem to notice what the page did to me, but my heart is beating quite a bit, and my legs are shaking with delight. It is awkward.
"Go ahead, open them," Mother urges us. Anne and I kneel down on the smooth wooden floor and we open the presents wrapped in brown paper with a pink ribbon and an aquamarine one. Pink for Anne; aquamarine for me. We gather the gifts belonging to us, and Anne begins to open hers.
She gasps as she opens her gift that is a topaz gem cut in large squares and tiny diamonds surrounding the sides. "A lovely choker!" she beckons. She then goes to the other gift. With quick hands, she rips the brown paper and sees a beautiful dandelion-colored gown with diamond linings. The bodice is square cut in the new fashion, and its sleeves are long and as it reaches the wrists, its cloth droops, as a lovely style. There is a steepled hennin that is about two feet high with a dandelion-colored veil at the end of the conical headdress.
"Mother, is this from you?" she asks, her beech-colored eyes scintillating.
Mother nods. "I hope you like it, dear."
"Oh, I do I do I do!"
"The choker is from your father," Mother says. Anne looks at father and beams at him. "I thank the both of you!"
Our parents smile at her. They look at me now, seeing that I still have not opened my presents. As a signal, I gently open the first one, my heart anticipating this. "I wonder what this is..." I mutter to myself. As I am done opening it, I smile in mirth. 'Tis a pearl and diamond choker along with a pearl and diamond headband. I raise the choker and flash it in the light, the diamonds twinkling every time I move it this way and that. I hear an indrawn breath, and I look at Anne, who looks away instantly. Hmm. I shrug and carefully place the jewelry back in its black velvet case, and I move on to the other gift: a beautiful silver dress with tiny white pearl seedlings on the chest to waist area, its bodice heart-shaped. Its kirtle is thick, conceiving several petticoats. The skirt's form is like a marshy whipped cream at the back, and at the front it is smooth. The metallic sarcenet fabric is shining as it hits the sun, and the sleeves, as it reaches the wrists, is tight-fitted, forming a V at the end where there is a tiny loop ring for my middle finger to enter. I stand up, still clutching my new gown dearly to my chest and I go to my parents. I hug them both and kiss them each on the cheek.
"Thank you, for the beautiful presents you have given me on my birthday. I shall not forget this one forever."
Father embraces me again and kisses the top of my copper head that smells like roses and jasmine.
"Anne," Mother calls out, "you have grown quiet, love. What is it?"
Anne looks up and smiles. "Nothing, Mother. I am just thinking how lovely the presents are. Thank you."
But only I notice that her eyes are shining, not from joy, but from the tears she is trying to shed from us. I am about to call her out, but she goes up quietly and calls Nina, who is standing at the corner, and helps her gather her new gown and box of topaz choker. She curtsies-for once -- very gracefully to Mother and Father -- and turns without a word, leaving the solar with Nina behind her, holding the presents with care.
"Why does she always get the most beautiful things than I do?" I hear Anne demand.
I don't mean to eavesdrop, for I never am like that, but I was walking down the corridor to our room, and then I heard Anne's ranting and crying. I can't help it if I fear for my sister and feel sorry for her. I also feel ashamed of myself for Anne is right. I notice as well that Father gives more love to me and gives me his attention more than Anne pleads for his. I do get much nicer things than my sister, and I think 'tis not fair. 'Tis not fair at all. I love Anne; dear God, I love my sister dearly. She is my twin; my other half; my twin soul. And I feel bad for her so much. All she wants is Father's love, but I have his love more than her.
"She always has more love than I!" Anne shouts. I hear her pacing back and forth across our big room, her boots padding on the wooden floor, her skirts swishing. "I hate her, Nina, oh how I hate Venise!"
"Hush, child," I hear Nina whisper. "Don't say such nonsense! 'Tis a sin to hate on your own sister. I be worried for the both of you. You two are the closest sisters I ever saw. 'Tis not right that you be ending up hating each other."
"I hate her still!" Anne says, stubborn. Her voice is now muffled, as I know that Nina is embracing her, Anne's face on her black dress. "I wish I was an only child! This is the worse birthday of my life..." Then she moans and sobs so loud and broken, that it tears my heart to the core.
I knock gently and poke my head inside the room. I give Anne a wan smile, and she looks at me through her tear-stained eyes that narrow menacingly at me from across the room. "What do you want?" she demands, as I start walking toward her and Nina.
Nina rocks her, squeezing her scrawny arms wrapped in green velvet. I raise my hand and speak. "Nina, would you kindly leave us for a moment? I need to talk to my sister."
The maid nods and begins to stand up on the bed, but Anne hauls her back, squeezing her arms, eyes blazing darkly. Nina does not know what we are and I fear that Anne is revealing herself to our maid. "You will not leave me, Nina. If you do, I will tell on you."
"Tell about what, Mistress Anne?" Nina asks, bewildered. Her blue eyes are growing large and I know that she is afraid of Anne.
"That I saw you with the groom at the stables where you two thought no one could see you, you stupid woman!"
I gasp, so does Nina. "But Mistress, I wasn't --"
Anne tightens her small hands around Nina's arm and the servant scowls in agony at the pressure of such small hands. "Don't try to deny it. I saw you both with my own eyes."
"Anne!" I exclaim, aghast.
She ignores me and strikes Nina with her small hand, and another backhand blow. I know that Anne has a very bad temper when the limit of her patience has stepped the line way too far, but I have never seen her become so violent. She has always managed to calm down in a minute, but not like this. What is happening to her?
I run to her and hold her slapping hands tightly in my own and she stiffens in my arms. She elbows me and I huff at the pain on my abdomen, then she walks away from me and Nina. I feel tears sting my eyes as the pain overtakes my paining abdomen. I try to ignore it and kneel down beside Nina, who is lying down shaking and sobbing, her hands covering her face.
I gently move her hands away from her face and brush my long bejeweled fingers on her brown hair. Her headdress is off from her head, knocked to the ground beside her trembling body. My tears are falling freely, dropping on Nina's chest as I gently touch her face. Her nose is broken and it is flowing with blood. Her lip has a cut on the upper right side, and it is swollen and quickly bruising. Her cheeks have the marks of Anne's hand, red as a velvet apple.
For a second, I think she is dead for she stops moving and her eyes are closed, but then she coughs and holds my hands tightly, trying to hug me. I slowly lift my head up and see Anne cross the room to the door, locking it. She turns around to face me, a dark scowl on her face, her eyes completely black with a white pupil at the center.
"Look at what you have done, Anne," I whisper, my voice quavering. I am clutching dear Nina in my arms, and she sobs brokenly. "You...what..." I cannot formulate any sentence, for I am too shocked.
She rolls her eyes at me and places a hand on her hip. "'Tis not so bad, Venise. She is still alive, is she not? You worry too much for your own good."
I look down at the trembling Nina in my arms and look at my sister, my eyes full of tears, yet dark as an emerald. "Aye, she is alive, but she could have died, Anne! You could have murdered her if you had not stopped." I shush Nina as she moans.
"No she won't," my wicked sister scoffs.
I tear my gaze away from her. I cannot even look at her right now, for I am too aghast and afraid of her.
I am afraid of my sister.
I close my eyes and feel something bad about her. She has never shown violence all her life, yet now she nearly killed Nina. I have to tell Father and Mother. I cannot let this slip.
"Mistress, Venise..." Nina whispers, her lips barely moving. "I...cannot -- cannot feel my...my face. My visions...so blurry..."
"Shh," I say to her, hugging her and bringing out a hand to smooth her hair out from her face. "I shall do my best to help you. Pray be still."
I hear Anne groan. She starts walking toward us. She grabs my arm and hauls me up to my feet, making Nina fall down with a loud thud at the movement. I try to wriggle from her and escape, but she is too strong, even if she and I have the same weight and height. "Anne, please let me go, you're hurting me!"
"I know what you are thinking, Venise," she hisses in my ear, still keeping a steady hold on my arm. "If you tell all of this to our parents, especially to Father, you will surely regret this moment." I stare at her, my olivine eyes so large, fearful of my sister. She stares back at me, her eyes still dark and blazing. She squeezes my arm. I scowl as I feel her nails biting into my skin. "I know that it is a habit of yours to be a goody-goody, but if you tattle to Father about this, you are surely addle-pated as I'd always thought you were. Understand?"
I feel the pressure of her nails sink into my skin even harder, and I have no choice but to nod at her.
"Promise me, sister. Promise me you shan't tell this," she probes.
I nod frantically. "I won't. I promise you."
She lets go, and I touch my arm, rubbing it up and down. "What about Nina? What shall we do? We are lucky enough that everyone is busy to hear her moans and your rants about me."
Anne glares at me, but she nods. "Aye, you are right. We are indeed lucky." She looks down at Nina, and she tries to haul her up. "Help me here, will you?" she beckons to me.
At once, I am at her side, helping her get Nina up on her two feet. We lay her on my bed, and Anne sits by her side, shushing the maid as she moans in pain again.
"Be quiet, Nina," she mutters, staring at the servant with disgust.
"I will go get the ewer and basin." I cross the room and go up the dais, where the ewer and basin is on top of a richly carved mahogany table. I pour water on the basin and get a sheet, then I go to Nina and I begin to gently dab the sheet on her face.
"Don't you have Heal?" Anne demands. I stare at her, stopping my work.
"I am not good at it. It's not my main skill. 'Twould be foolhardy if I did it and made a mistake."
She takes the sheet from my hands and she wipes Nina's swollen lips and broken nose. I feel Nina wince, but does not say anything as she sees that 'tis Anne and not I.
I sigh. I have no choice, or else she will go ballistic once again. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, my palms near Nina's poor face. If only I am more experienced with my skills, I would not feel so shaky and nervous. Father says that I shall get the hang of this, but not right now. 'Twill happen. I breathe deeply again, and then I slowly move my palms on Nina's face, and forget everything for a moment as I concentrate on what I am doing.
"'Tis working," Anne says, surprised.
I open an eye. "Really?"
She nods, becoming the Anne I know once again. "Come on, sister. Concentrate," she encourages me. I nod and gently touch Nina's nose and lips and cheeks. As I am done, I look at her and smile.
"I did it!" I whisper happily.
Anne grins at me. "Always knew you could do it." My face falters as I remember that she is not the same anymore. I look away. Nina is asleep now, and I hear Anne say, "Now 'tis time to erase this memory of hers. You have that skill as well, Venise. Do it, I beseech you."
"Oh...all right..." I say uncertainly. She nods in encouragement and I begin to stare at Nina. I concentrate on her. I feel something draining inside her and transferring to me -- her memory of her early abuse from my sister.
I think it worked, so I stop and tell Anne I am through. She smiles at me, comes around the bed, and embraces me. She begins crying. "I am sorry about what I did to Nina, Venise. I am sorry if I frightened you and made you see me as someone different and evil. Please forgive me, my sister." She sobs, and I feel her sincerity. She is speaking the truth. She is back as my Anne.
I shush her and whisper to her that I forgive her. In the end, Nina wakes up without a memory of the last scene and greets us both, apologising that she has overslept, as Anne and I formulated that plan to tell her. The three of us laugh, and it is nice to know that Anne is the same again, and that she loves me once more.
Though I shan't forget this day and what happened to Anne, to Nina, and to me.
The next day, I am in the garden with Mother, our arms linked together as she and I take a nice stroll.
"Have you seen your sister, sweeting?" she asks casually, breathing in the fresh country air. We are facing due south where the sun is shining down upon us. We are in front of the lake, and it shimmers like thousands of crystals twinkling in the bright light. The trees are swaying, dancing in the beautiful morning around us, as if they are in a play. I smile instantly and my eyes are scintillating. I look at Mother's beautiful face, and nod.
"She is in our room, Mother, praying," I reply.
"My, whatever has she done? Or does she simply want to pray?"
"Simply want to pray."
But in truth, Anne told me that she wants to cleanse her soul and tell her transgressions to God. She has been there quite a while now. I wonder how many sins she has made that makes her stay there, kneeling and reciting the rosary for so long. Mother and I part for she needs to get a rest for a while, and I go up to my room and see if Anne is there in the small room connected to our boudoir.
Indeed, she is still there, reciting her rosary. It has been an hour. She does not turn around to look at the person coming inside the room, and I stand at the door for a moment. Staring down from the wall is a wooden crucifix. The Christ figure's mournful eyes follow me, as I move a bit forward inside the room. The room is used for devotions, with two prie-dieus in front of the crucifix on which stands several well-used candles. I kneel on the other prie-dieu beside Anne, clasping my hands, with the rosary between them. I bow down my head and close my eyes, but I listen to her first.
She is murmuring quietly, her eyes closed, her head bowed down low, her forehead touching her clasped hands, and the rosary swinging idly. "Dear God..." and so on.
I stop listening and tend to my own prayer. Oh Lord, help me to understand my sister much better. I know that she has come back as the old Anne, but I fear for her soul. Whatever she is feeling and keeping inside her, please help her and keep her safe from any harm or transgression. I know You will not misguide us, for I know You are here for us through all the way...
"In nomine padre, fili et spiritus sancti. Amen," I whisper benignly, crossing myself and standing up, holding my rosary in one hand. Anne intones the final words I said, and she crosses herself and gets up on her feet. She smiles at me as she sees me.
"Dear Venise!" she says. "'Tis good to see you tend to find me well. Are you?"
"Aye, Anne, I am," I reply, holding her hand, as we begin to go out of the room and into our large boudoir. "And what about you?"
She sighs in delight. "I feel very refreshed, I must confess. All the weight has lifted off my shoulders, and I really felt God's presence. I am right glad you shared at least half of my prayers with me."
I am glad as well, and Anne pulls my hand. We run downstairs to play in the garden.
Present day
What the heck happened to Anne? I woke up from my dream and was now lying down in my cold little room, staring at the ceiling. She scared me, I had to admit. She was violent. But then I did feel her sincerity when she apologised to me in the dream. She had been kneeling down on the prie-dieu, praying and muttering to God for hours, so that He might forgive her.
Even though Anne could be a hellfire nightmare of a girl at the age of freaking twelve, she could be a very nice little girl, as well. She was sweet and kind, though free-spirited and wild at times when nature connected with her soul. I could imagine Medusa and Pocahontas combined into Anne's personality, and I feared and admired her. Other than that, she was my sister. My sister Anna Marianne Gansevoort Fizenstuart.
The devil and the saint herself.