She watched as the churchman dismounted and walked onto the drawbridge.
“Father Whitefield!” Fortunately, her father’s old friend did not hear her exclamation. Recalling his quick rise in the church since Henry took the throne, she dropped to a low curtsy.
“ ’Tis good to see you again, child,” the bishop said, holding out his hands to her.
“What is this about, m’lord Bishop?” she whispered. “Why does the king send armed men here?”
“I bring you a message from the king,” the bishop said in a voice that echoed off the castle walls.
What sort of message required a bishop and armed men?
“I am sorry to tell you this, my dear,” he said, patting her hand, “but your husband was killed today.”
“Praise be to God!” Catherine cried out and fell to her knees. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clasped her hands before her face. “Praise be to God! Praise be to God!”
“Lady Catherine!” the bishop roared above her. “You must beg God’s forgiveness for such sinfulness.”
Catherine knew it was a sin to wish her husband dead. But God, in his infinite wisdom, had answered her prayers and removed Rayburn from this world.
Praise God, praise God, praise God.
“… shameful behavior… unwomanly…”
She was dimly aware the bishop was still speaking. She ignored him and continued praying.
“Mary Catherine!”
When he shouted her name, she opened her eyes.
“Get up, get up,” the bishop said, jerking her up by the arm. “There is more I have to tell you.”
He pulled a parchment from inside his robe, broke the seal, and unrolled it. Holding it out at arm’s length, he gave her a solemn look over the top. Then, he began to read. “All lands… forfeit to the Crown… grant these same… for faithful service…”
Catherine could not take in the words. Her head spun as the bishop droned on and on.
“In plain terms,” he said as he rolled up the parchment, “the king declares Rayburn’s title and all his property, including Ross Castle, forfeit. He grants them to the man who defeated your traitorous husband in battle today.”
The breath went out of her as if she had been punched in the stomach.
“Why would the king do this to me?” she asked in a whisper. “After all I have done for him? After the risks I took?”
The bishop leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her. “You should have foreseen this from the moment your husband raised his hand against the king.”
“ButIdid not raise my hand against the king!” she protested. “It was the king’s decision, not mine, that I should marry Rayburn. You know that very well.”
“Mind your tongue,” the bishop warned, his face red with anger. “ ’Tis not wise to criticize your sovereign.”
“Does the king say what I am to do?” she asked, panic welling up in her. “Where Jamie and I shall live?”
The bishop cleared his throat. “All is not lost, my dear.” He paused to give significance to what he was about to say. “With the king’s blessing, the new lord of Ross Castle has agreed to take you as his wife.”
“The king wishes me to marry again?” Her voice was rising, but she could not help it.
The bishop’s steady gaze told her she had not misunderstood him.
“Nay, he cannot!” She backed away from him, shaking her head from side to side. “He cannot ask this of me again!”
The bishop grabbed her arm and whispered ferociously in her ear, “This is the only way the king has of saving you.”