Belinda: A Maiden of the Early 1300's

Mourning

Belinda sat beside her father's bed, holding his cold hand in her own. "Promise me, My Girl," he begged again, as he had the last few times she came to sit with him. His voice shook and he coughed when the effort of merely speaking stole his wind. Desperation added force to his plea. Belinda had just finished assisting him with his meager dinner but her father was tired already from the effort of eating.

"I swear it, Father." What else could a loving daughter say to her dying father?

"You swear what?" he demanded, wanting to be certain. The old knight took as deep a breath as he could manage. "Tell me again."

To humor him, Belinda began to recite the same pledge she had taken each time she saw him. "I swear, Father, that I will walk into the sunrise; that I will travel to your older brother and seek asylum with him, rather than allow my lady mother to make a marriage match for me."

Belinda's mother was far younger than her husband, well known for her disdain toward her lawful husband and for her devotion to her lover. She had borne her husband but one child, Belinda, before refusing to bear another. Belinda's lady mother openly despised everything about her husband, including his offspring, and mocked him at every turn.

A landless knight who served in another's household, Belinda's father ignored his wife's disdain and her absence in his cottage, put aside any regrets he might have had over not having a son in order to focus on raising his daughter. Sir Edwin Fitzgerald had always doted on his daughter, regaled her as she grew with stories of his youth and his service to his lord.

When Belinda was of an age to serve, Sir Edwin realized that he couldn't possibly teach Belinda the things she would need to know as an adult, so he sent her to stay in Shelburne Castle with the humble request that Belinda learn herbals from Lord Merrick's wife as well as the usual things a girl of lesser nobility studied.

Belinda had a room in the castle but she visited with her father in his cottage after dinner every evening. Each evening, he quizzed her on what she'd learned. Belinda was also showered with gifts as often as her father was able. Her wardrobe was almost as fine as that of her mistress, Lady Kendra. Belinda's knife was made of fine Damascus steel and new shoes graced her feet twice per year.

Now, the elderly knight smiled up at his young daughter. She was old enough to be wed but he couldn't bear to part with her and Belinda seemed to him to be of no mind to leave her father, either. She knew that if she wasn't at his bedside to care for the invalid knight, no one would be; for he yet maintained his cottage rather than returning to the barracks inhabited by the single knights.

It was a lonely life for the older man but he had always wished that his wife might return to his side one day. Removing his things to the barracks would have prevented that from happening if Lady Anne had ever taken mind to return. With regret, Sir Edwin realized that Lady Anne would never willingly forsake her lover. The coin he'd set aside for his wife's provision over the last years must go to his daughter. "You are a good girl, Belinda, My Dear. When I am gone, you must have my pillow."

"Father," reproved Belinda, not wanting to think of such things. "You must save your wind. Why speak of such things now?" But the old man shook his head stubbornly.

"Promise me," he wheezed again. He reached up and tugged against his pillow a little to make the material and stuffing move. When coins clinked together in protest, he winked and grinned at her. "This pillow is very dear to me. I should like to think of it comforting you when I am gone."

"Of course," Belinda responded, beginning to understand. "But can you not stay with me a little longer, Father?" She kissed his hand and held it to her cheek, trying to banish the cold from his once-strong fingers. As near the bed as Belinda dared leave it, a brazier heated the room. "Please, Sir," she begged when he didn't answer right away.