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enjoy my sweet lieblings x
word count; 1394
Rosamund
Finan grew increasingly absent from my life as time passed. He avoided me and I avoided him; a seemingly unspoken but mutual agreement. It was, despite all that had gone between us before, what was occurring. Uhtred spoke to me of how painful Finan found it and it seemed his request to return to Cookham did not go unnoticed; even Edward commented on the state of things. But, alas, he could not face it. He would not, no, and I did not blame him.
Similarly, the child did not last. Alas, it was but a week later I found myself in yet another grievous, but familiar, situation.
"Addela," I whispered as an all-too-familiar scarlet droplet fell to the floor. It was a rather stark contrast to the brown of the stone floor, but I was grateful for such a thing. If it had been a bright colour, we likely would not have seen it and my peril thus would go unnoticed. It was a pain that was, surprisingly, familiar; a childbirth pain. But, like Aethelwulf, it was too early. Too early.
It was, alack, a short experience. I do not remember much of it and I am glad of it; I did not wish to encounter the grief once more. I lay alone, without comfort, as the candlelight flickered. It seemed a gloomy night for all involved. I watched as Addela wrapped the poor babe in cloth and removed it from my chambers, never to be seen again; buried in the cold ground of Winchester, alone for all eternity.
Nonetheless, it seemed that life moved on. I was stuck in the past while all else continued, the world ticked on, men moved about the Palace with simple footsteps and I, as ever, remained stuck. I was tired of all this. I was tired of the continuous, petty arguments and all the loss that was occurring.
"What am I to do, Addela?" I whispered. She glanced back at me sympathetically, as always; she was as loyal as one could be.
"You must rest now, lady. You are tired."
I nodded slowly; Addela was wiser than I and knew she was correct. "It seems so," I whispered. "I am tired of this, Addela. I need... I need peace."
"Sleep, lady." She encouraged me with a smile but I shook my head,
"Would you ask the King if I may return to the nunnery in Sherborne? I feel peace and recuperation will place me on the correct path."
Addela nodded as her smile grew, "Of course, lady. When you are better."
"Soon, hopefully," I spoke. "Soon."
From then on, it was but a while before I fell into the darkness of sleep, a calming excuse for the pitiful nature of my situation. Even a day ago I could not have seen such an event occurring. Despite the unwanted nature of the pregnancy, the child was very much wanted. But, alas, it was not to be-- God had not seen it fit to grant me such joy.
But, as I dreamed, I did not dream of him. I didn't dream of my husband, my country, nor even my Mother, but the one, absent, common denominator that was all too familiar. Finan.
"It ended when I married him, Finan," I growled. He shook his head,
"Marriages can be annulled; I'd know it. Children are permanent."
"Yes, well I didn't exactly choose this, did I?!" I snapped. "I thought you were gone, Finan. I thought you had died in a ditch and I chose to secure myself and leave my grief in Wessex. Alas, what else was I to do? Uhtred had been banished! and I had, as I keep reminding you, my duty! It was my choice. Respect it."
"But I am not dead, Rosamund!"
He was frustrated with me. It was obvious. But there was little we could do. I was Owain's wife as much as Finan was Uhtred's man.
"I am his, Finan, and you will accept it," I spoke sternly. "Or he will take your head and that I could not bear."
But even in my dreams, I could not tell him the full extent of Owain's wrath. Even as I imagined what I would say to him, it came to little fruition. Finan was as far from me as God was at that moment.
Nevertheless, it was not long before I woke to find Owain staring at me from the left of the bed. He sat there, albeit hesitantly, with an intense expression on his face. I sat up a little and broke the tedious silence by beginning to speak,
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be." I croaked, feeling drained both physically and emotionally. The loss of a child, even one unborn, was of the greatest loss and grief I thought I could experience.
Owain nodded lightly. He was not a cruel man but he was not pleased. He, like most men, believed it my fault; God punishing me for my grievous list of sins. But I could not believe it was so. God was not that cruel. It was merely an occurrence. A loss. It once more reaffirmed, as Aethelwulf's passing had done, that I was not able to keep a child alive. Conception, yes, but not longevity.
"There will be more," I looked up at him with pleading eyes. I had to do as my Father would want. Any threat of annulment would remain until children arrived and I knew Owain would grow tired of me soon enough. He lacked the cruelty to annul the marriage but his councillors did not; it would be a route back to Gwynedd, for sure. I was seen, as ever, as the foreign whore of Frankia. "There will be, Husband. I know it. God would not deprive us of such a thing,"
Owain nodded but clearly didn't take my words in; his eyes were glassy and expression blank.
"Yes, Rosamund, I'm sure there will be." He paused, glancing at me. Owain sighed before speaking again, "I will leave you to rest."
"Are you going to her?" I asked with spite. I knew all about his infidelity and Eadberth, if she was with child soon, would prove a point; my Father, even from across the seas, had heard of her and never failed to mention it in his letters. She had given him what I had failed to provide; a son.
Owain did not respond, merely letting out another exasperated sigh. I was thus prompted,
"You are my husband," I said. "Yet you turn to her when your wife is deep in grief,"
He again did not respond. It was clear that Owain, while he tried to be kind, was growing frustrated with me and saw no advantage to our marriage.
In truth, I was tainted with sin and grief. We had now lost two children and Owain was quickly realising that I was not all I had seemed when we had married. He had been promised a fruitful, young wife who would give him as many sons as her Mother before her had given her Father, but I had failed. God would not grant me any living children, not now, and it was becoming increasingly clear to all those involved.
"You must wash, lady," Addela began, pulling the sheets away. "You are..." She trailed off, unable to find an appropriate word.
"Tainted?" I chuckled weakly, "My husband would agree with you."
"You know that is not what I meant." Her tone was stern but her words well meant; they were anything but false.
"Perhaps," I spoke, standing and stepping forward. The waters were already prepared; steaming and hot. I removed my slip and put my foot in the waters, wincing as they came into contact with the heat.
"Is it too hot, lady?" Addela asked, concerned. I shook my head and smiled,
"No, Addela, I thank you for your concern."
I slipped in and felt all the dirt, blood, even droplets of sweat dissipate into the water.
"Did you ask the King about Sherborne?"
Addela nodded with a grin, "He says you may go as soon as you are well."
"Then we shall go soon," I nodded. "It seems I am in great need of prayer and recuperation."
