“I did,” she said. “He is handsome and powerful. I deserve a handsome and powerful husband. But he has been mean and cruel and inattentive, and now I know why. He is in love with another woman!”
Hilde finished lighting the last candle and move around the end of the bed. “How can you know that, my lady?”
Adelaide looked at her and the old woman recognized that look of utter fury. “Because he said so!” she snapped. “He just said so at our wedding feast! Can you imagine? The groom at his own wedding feast speaks of his love for another woman! It was bad enough that he locked me in the vault while he was away. He tossed me away like an animal. Well, I will not stand for it any longer. He has humiliated me for the last time.”
Hilde knew what that meant. Fine, strong Thomas de Wolfe was not long for this world. She hustled over to her charge and began helping her remove the adornment from her hair, combs and pins that had been shoved into an elaborate style. But Adelaide was upset, and agitated, and when Hilde pulled on a comb too hard, Adelaide swung around and hit her, hard, on the side of the head. She hit her twice more until the woman fell down, hands over her head to prevent Adelaide from doing any real damage.
“You useless old fool,” Adelaide hissed. “You are worthless to me, do you hear? One of these days it is going to be your ownfault when I kill you. You are going to do something to displease me and it will be your fault!”
Hilde’s hands came away from her head but there was blood on her left hand where she’d touched her ear. Adelaide’s violent beating had made her bleed and as she looked at the blood on her hand, she realized there was something symbolic there.
Blood on her hands.
Aye, she knew about the two young men and she hadn’t done anything about it. She had been terrified to. Now, Thomas de Wolfe’s life was on the line, as well as her own. Adelaide as much as said so. She’d been afraid of Adelaide for so long that the paralyzing fear had crippled her into inaction but, at this moment, she realized that if she didn’t act, Thomas would meet his death and so would she.
She couldn’t let that happen.
It was finally time to take a stand.
“Get up,” Adelaide snapped. “Get off the floor and help me dress. Bring me the blue shift, the one I had made for this night.”
Hilde stood up on unsteady feet and shuffled over to the wardrobe. Opening the elaborately carved panels, she could see a variety of possessions at the bottom of it; satchels, mirrors, and a small assortment of beautiful daggers that Edmund had purchased for his daughter. She always traveled with them and that was what she used to cut her arms when the mood struck her.
As Hilde looked at them, an idea occurred to her, a thought of self-preservation that was born of fear. She grabbed the blue sleeping shift, the one that was sheer and delicate, and also one of the larger daggers.
Quickly, she returned to Adelaide.
“You have worked hard to marry Sir Thomas,” she said, her voice trembling with fear and age, but she said it so forcefully that the trembling could have been construed as excitement. “Heis finally your husband now and instead of punishing him for loving another, you must make him love you. You mustmakehim appreciate you, my lady.”
Adelaide was dubious. “How am I to do that if he loves another woman?” she asked. “I think I know who it is. Do remember the nun who visited Wark not long ago? The one who was going to Edenside? He showed her great attention. I would be willing to wager it is her!”
Hilde shook her head. She placed the blue shift upon the bed and held up the dagger to Adelaide.
“Do what you do best,” she said encouragingly. “Bring your blood forth and tell Sir Thomas that you wish to die. He always comes when you do this, does he not? It has always brought him to you in the past. What better to spur a husband’s regret and desire on his wedding night but the sight of his wife bathed in blood? He shall be sorry he was ever so cruel to you.”
Adelaide eyed the dagger, her anger at Thomas diverted by Hilde’s suggestion. Her mind was easily swayed, especially when it came to the dramatics she was so capable of.
“Do you think so?” she asked. “You do not think I should be atempestariiagain?”
The old woman shook her head. “Nay, my lady,” she said. “No moretempestarii, no more fertility amulet. Be defenseless and near death. Lay down upon the bed and cut your arms, and I will summon Sir Thomas to come to you to save you. He must love a wife who would love him so much that she would die for that love.”
It was a thin premise, but Hilde knew her charge well. She knew that Adelaide was always willing to cut her arms or pretend to be deathly ill if it would gain her what she wanted. In this case, it was Thomas’ attention. The old woman was successfully diverting Adelaide’s anger away from death and revenge and towards the very thing she took pleasure in– putting on an actfor others. She had done it for her father her entire life, and for others to bend them to her will. This was nothing new. It was what she lived for.
Only this time, Hilde was going to help.
“Go, now,” the old woman said. “Lay upon the bed. Shall I help you cut your arms? I shall find the best place.”
Adelaide was swept up in the suggestion, agreeing to it because it was something she did so regularly. “Do not cut over a scar,” she said. “It will hurt too much. Find clean flesh.”
“I will, my lady.”
“And you will run and tell him that I am dying?”
“Of course I will. Right away.”
Adelaide lay down upon the lavender-sprinkled bed in a pose that looked very tragic but very innocent. When she was comfortable, Hilde had her hold out both hands close together with her palms up, making the tender undersides of both arms exposed. With the very sharp, and somewhat large dagger in-hand, Hilde lifted the blade.
“Are you ready, my lady?”
