Free Alas My Love by Tracie Peterson Page A

and gave a gurgling sound.
    Helena smiled and lifted the babe to see the activity that bustled around him. “See there, young sire,” she said softly, “your mother, the duchess, is planning quite a celebration.”
    Arianne glanced across the room to see Helena holding Timothy. She smiled and came to extend her hands out to take her son. “What mischief are you about, my Timothy?” she questioned in amusement.
    “I told him you were preparing a feast,” Helena offered. “He seemed quite interested.”
    “No doubt,” Arianne said with a laugh. “In a few years he’ll race with the other boys and tilt at the quintain. Soon enough he’ll go off to foster with others and my time with him will be greatly diminished.”
    “But you’ll have other children,” Helena reminded her.
    “Yea, but I’m thinking the first is something different. The first born gives you cause to think and remember the sheer wonder of God.” She looked down at her son with such love that Helena had to lower her gaze. It hurt too much to be so near what she needed and yet know that it could not belong to her.
    Why God? she wondered silently. Why must my heart belong to one who is so very far away; one who knows not whether I come or go? One who may very well be dead. This last thought caused Helena to shudder. If Tanny were dead, she would have no reason to go on.
    “God is good, is He not?” Arianne offered softly, not knowing the gloomy thoughts of her friend.
    Helena had barely heard the words and took a moment as if to translate their meaning. “Yes, He is good,” she finally replied. But not always swift, she added to herself.
    It was hoped that Richard would be home by Easter, but when Good Friday arrived and the duke was still absent, Arianne tried to make the best of it.
    Throughout Lent, the observations of the season had been met with enthusiasm. The castle chapel, as well as the church in the village, found its sanctuary hung with veiling to shroud the cross and holy relics. Good Friday presented a memorial to that day when Christ had gone willingly to the cross to offer salvation to all mankind.
    Leaving one of the other chambermaids to care for Timothy, Arianne and Helena led the castle procession in the “creeping to the cross.”
    The women bowed low and walked slowly in reverent memory of the crucifixion. Helena couldn’t hold back her tears. She was deeply moved at the sacrifice her Lord had made, but so, too, was she in deep sorrow for the loss in her heart. Somehow their combination was appropriate, and she instantly felt that God would have her leave her heartache on the church steps with the cross.
    Approaching the now unveiled cross, Helena rose up only slightly and kissed it, declaring to God as she did so that just as they would bury the cross until Easter Sunday, so Helena would give over her anguish to be buried as well. At least this had been her heart’s desire.
    If the duchess thought it strange that her lady-in-waiting sobbed openly at the symbol of Christ’s sacrifice, she did not say so. Instead, as they left the steps to allow the others to come forward, Arianne simply placed her arm around Helena’s shoulders.
    They watched from the side as the ceremony concluded. The priest took the cross and wrapped it tenderly in white silk and placed it in a prepared sepulcher set deep inside the church wall. With this done, a veil was set over the opening, candles were set to surround the tomb, and each candle was lit as a prayer was recited.
    The time that followed the ceremony was one of reflection and sobriety. The castle was strangely quiet, and even the servants worked in hushed effort. It was as though the entire community held its breath in anticipation.
    Helena found it strangely comforting. She went about her duties, seeing to Timothy’s needs when Arianne was busy with other tasks and writing songs in her head when moments of inspiration came upon her.
    On Easter Eve, the candles surrounding the