The garden of red roses

Behind the majestic castle there was the huge rose garden, kissed by the sunlight. That large and spacious garden was a real paradise on earth. There, throughout the year, it was possible to delight in the bright green colour of the hedges and tall rose plants, and sometimes to draw that delicious scent of nectar from the air.

This place was Lady Katherine's favourite. After her husband's death, it had been difficult for her to morally recover, and now she spent most of her days grasping the essence of those delightful flowers and strolling along the white cobbled streets between the verdant hedges. In that place, within that garden, as a young woman, she used to exchange words of love with the king, her deceased husband. Even now that he had passed away, that flower garden continued to have a deep meaning for the queen and had almost become a symbol of security for her.

The woman walked around the garden, she carefully placed her bare feet on the white pebbles and enjoyed in her fifty years of age, the sweet scent of nature around her. She used to go there alone, she liked the solitude and she loved the silence. In addition, for once, Lady Katherine could finally be free from any royal bond, and she could live her life as a free woman.

She didn't have to have her hair styled or put on an uncomfortable greyish wig, and when she could, she let her long brown hair streaked with white, come down her back through a braid.

She loved that freedom, that silence, those smells, she loved the idea that soon her daughter, Isabelle, the little girl she had given birth to, would find a husband. The princess would have turned fourteen in a few days, but since two years she had begun to show the first signs of blood monthly within her candid underwear, and was therefore able to conceive and give birth to children. And that was in fact what she would do once she met her future husband. In fact, that was the plan that had been agreed, once they got married they would have to consume a first night together, and once the conception of a child was ascertained, the princess would be crowned as legitimate queen of England and her husband, Gilbert, as Prince Consort.

All this gave the woman a certain nervousness, but inside she was happy, she was satisfied to be able to witness the final growth of her girl into a young and independent woman. Some footsteps approached her, somehow crawling on the small white pebbles that covered her narrow streets. They were gentle, graceful, almost fairy-like steps, and they came closer and closer to her, until it was clear to her who was approaching. The figure of Princess Isabelle, her little girl, was becoming clearer and clearer in her sight. She stopped, they both did, until the young girl's light-blue eyes met those of her mother.

Lady Katherine Patterson looked at her daughter well, she did not look like her at all, except her eyes, everything that the young princess possessed was what she had inherited from her father. Isabelle did not hesitate, she did not want to seem not polite enough in any way and so she made a dutiful bow to her mother. This movement gave the woman a glimpse of the young girl's bare feet, and all this made her rethink, that in fact her daughter and she were not all that different.

-Mother- the princess started talking, holding her little hands, wrapped in precious white gloves, one inside the other - I hoped to be able to talk to you, I knew I could find you here ... -. The woman smiled, it was a confident, almost reassuring smile, she came back to catch the sweet smell of one of the red roses she held in her hands.

-I am always delighted to hear news from you, my daughter, please tell me more about what worries you ... -. Isabelle took a few steps forward, until she was able to sit on a wooden bench that, from under a tree, emerged in its elegant white colour. The girl began swinging her short legs, rubbing them against each other, almost waiting in vain for something to happen.

-I just wanted to ask you something ... - said the princess -what does it feel like to be married, to a person you don't know ...? -. At those words every movement of the woman stopped abruptly, but she quickly resumed the work of caring for her red roses.

- It depends ... - the queen admitted - you can learn to love the person you are married to, that's what I did with your father ... -. The princess seemed interested enough in this topic, that she almost couldn't keep inside all that boundless amount of ideas that had occupied her head for days now.

-And what if I would never learn to love, mother?- Isabelle continued to say, shaking hands with each other, it was quite cold, even though the sun was still beating.

-For some persons it is easy to love, for others it is not, there are many forms of love ... - Lady Katherine admitted -it is not a problem, it is not wrong, not knowing how to love-. The princess seemed increasingly interested in every word that came from her mother's lips. She was surprisingly happy that she could finally have some form of contact with her mother, and it was almost fascinating that she could heart to heart talk with her.

-You should learn, however, that love for your family is also important- these words came out coldly of the woman's mouth -loving your family is the most important thing of all...-. The princess thought about her mother's words and nodded with her head -You are right mother, family is very important-.

-You should try to be less severe with your brother, do I have to remind you that Prince Henry is also part of your family? -Isabelle looked at the ground for a few moments, all this speech made no sense, not if those words were spoken by her own mother. -I know this mother, but I find it kind of unreasonable that such words are spoken by you ... after all this years -.

-Why not, my dear? Has he ever done you any harm? What is that you don't like about him? - Lady Katherine felt absurdly stupid to say those words, to defend a man who was not her son, a man who in the past she had hated with all her heart. Why was she was saying such things in that moment?

-No, he did me no harm, but as you said, mother, it is not wrong not to know how to love ... -. Isabelle concluded her argument with those last words - I didn't remember that you were so fond of him, as if he were your son ... - the young woman continued to speak, this time with a look of hatred and sometimes nervousness.

Her mother had to find a way to justify the theory of hers, her phrases, to rationally put them into her head, to rethink everything that in those minutes had come out of her lips. -My concern is not for him, daughter dear- the queen came closer to the bench until she was able to touch the little hands of her girl -my concern is really for you-. She caressed the girl's harmonious face and removed some of her long blond hair from her face. She saw her eyes, she was somehow angry, but at the same time kind of adorable.

- Do you think mother ... - the young princess clenched her fists - do you think Henry can do something to me? Harm me?-. The queen took a few steps back, away from her daughter, almost as if she were frightened something was about to happen. Isabelle, however, calmed down again, and in a few minutes she was back the sweet girl that she had always been.

- Mother ... - smiled the princess -I don't care what decisions Henry decides to make, whether he wants to run away, to go back to France or whether he wants to stay here to fight, this is no longer of any interest to me-. The woman was silent and maintained a composed manner. She was feeling a strange evil rising from her stomach. She knew what her daughter was saying was wrong, but she had no power over her decisions now, she no longer had power over anything.

Since her husband died, she no longer counted for anything. From the will that the man had left written before his own death, all power would pass into the hands of Isabelle, her daughter. The right of succession should have passed to Prince Henry, he should have become king, for a long time now, but two factors had prevented it. The first factor was that the prince had French origins on his mother's side, and France had already fought against England several times by that time.

The second factor was that the prince's mother had somehow "betrayed" England, siding on the French side, and was unfairly punished with death. Although the king had sentenced his wife to the guillotine, he had always been luckily unable to do the same with his own son, so he condemned him to the loss of all his inheritance and his place on the throne. So now, everything was under the girl's command and no one had a say any word to contradict her every decision or stop her.

-The only thing I know for now, mother, is that I will never take back what I said...-.The woman thought about it and looked away, returning to check the condition of the beautiful roses in the garden.

-I said there will be war, because so I decided...-that sentence full of hatred was the last that somehow came out of the girl's pink lips. Isabelle lifted her body off the bench and stood relaxed for once, behind her mother.

-I suppose the time is coming, mother- admitted the princess, watching the beautiful pink sunset filling the blue sky with her pinkish colour.

-Soon they will be here, Viscount Gilbert, he will be here...- Isabelle continued to stare at the sky with a strange mood, mixed between melancholic and dreamy. -It was still nice to talk to you, mother, I hope to see you tonight, at dinner ...- having said that the princess disappeared completely behind the green leaves of the hedge. Lady Katherine still stood there, looking after the roses and thinking, she couldn't think, and she didn't want.

Her little, young girl, the child to whom she had given birth, which she had carried in her womb for nine months, could keep some so dangerous and cruel ideas in her mind. She remembered when she was little, when she could barely walk and talk and she ran down the corridors of the castle. As a child she was so sweet, so cute and sensitive, she felt no fear, that it almost seemed that her mother's strong desire to have such a perfect daughter had come true.

Those memories made the woman smile, they made her think, but sometimes it hurts to think, because, the more she did it, the more she realised how her little girl was growing without sensibility or logical measures.