Page 5 of Eternal Obsession

Alex, as instructed, retrieved blankets to warm us. The huge log fireplace, lit earlier that evening, continued to blaze brightly, providing much needed warmth.

When Alex returned, he found Catherine resting her head on my shoulder, and he wrapped the blankets around us and the third around himself. He too looked up in wonder at the painting. He rested his head on my lap and we all sat quietly, gazing up.

“Tell me the story of St. Catherine again,” Catherine said.

I hesitated.

Tears welled in Catherine’s eyes. I scratched my head. Catherine again began to sob.

I nodded. “She was born into a noble family in Alexandria. Following a vision, she became a Christian, at a time when it was very dangerous to be one. A horrible leader by the name of Maxentius requested that she stand in front of his philosophers and present her faith, expecting that she would be converted away from her belief.”

“She convinced the philosophers,” Catherine said.

“She converted them to Christianity.” I was happy to see her calmer. “Maxentius ordered their⁠—”

“Death.” Catherine nodded for me to continue.

I followed her gaze toward the saint’s portrait. “Catherine also converted the wife of Maxentius and two hundred of his soldiers. He had them slaughtered as well. Catherine was very beautiful, and inevitably Maxentius fell in love with her and offered her a royal marriage—if she would but deny her faith. When she refused, Maxentius had her thrown into prison where she had yet another vision—one in which she wed Jesus of Nazareth.”

“Becoming the Bride of Christ.” She sighed.

Alex yawned.

I threw him a wary glance. “Eventually, in a blind fury, Maxentius condemned her to death and designed a tortuous device, like a spiked wheel, on which he intended her to die a painful and slow death. Catherine was tied to the wheel, and when it began to turn, it broke into hundreds of pieces, as if symbolizing God’s wrath. Maxentius, still not convinced of Catherine’s faith, had her beheaded, and her body was then carried away by angels to be buried upon Mount Sinai.”

“Jadeon,” Catherine said. “St. Catherine appeared to me, and she said that I had to give you a very important message.”

With sympathy, I peered at her, aware that she had experienced a terrible ordeal. A vision of Joan of Arc, whom St. Catherine of Alexandria had also appeared to, came to mind. “We swam out too far. It was my fault,” I reassured her. “I should have been more cautious.”

“No,” Catherine said. “You will one day do something very important.”

Alex discreetly gestured that Catherine was crazy.

I ignored him. “Catherine, did you hit your head? I can’t see any cuts or anything.”

“Jadeon, I am fine.” She pushed my hand away. “There was a magnificent white light and everything. Honestly, I know how this must sound.”

“Thank you for my message,” I said.

She was not convinced.

“I’m pleased my life will have purpose, like Father’s.” It struck me that I had no idea what my father actually did.

At Catherine’s insistence, we remained in the room with her, staring at the painting until dawn. Alex soon fell asleep, but I kept Catherine company, watching her for any signs she was still upset. Our parents had taught us swimming was the work of the Devil, and now we believed it. More disturbingly, I wondered if the woman in the dungeons had cursed us. Alex never brought it up, so neither did I. I wanted to find normalcy again. The way the woman had been treated went against everything my parents had taught us. I felt ashamed of such a family secret, and wondered how we could approach Father, certain that there would be some reasonable explanation.

Chapter Three

JADEON

The year 1797 brought with it the bitterest of winters.

At age eighteen, I was fast becoming a man and grew restless with having to remain in the castle to avoid the harsh elements. As usual, Father was engrossed in his business affairs and rarely had time for us. And Mother, who was pregnant, had become preoccupied with preparing both the staff and nursery. Thus I spent many hours alone, reading in the library or whiling away the hours studying the violin or piano—though Alex was the musically gifted one and always outshone me with his natural talent. Occasionally, he persuaded me to join him in a hunt, but as neither of us had a head for killing, we rarely brought home a trophy.

The year was sorely bitter in many other ways. My friendship with Catherine took an unexpected turn. Catherine’s mother had insisted an escort be present whenever we spent time together. Having observed Catherine alone with Alex and me, she felt conflicted with her daughter’s impending womanhood. Such an invasion of our privacy made it impossible for us to continue our friendship as we had done before. We stole moments when we could, hiding from her escorts, only to fear being discovered and the worst being thought of us. We could never relax and so our shared moments were always a strain.

My feelings for Catherine were so consuming that by Christmas I had eventually found the courage to ask my father’s permission to marry her. Lord Artimas was not surprised by my choice of a bride and was reassured the girl came from a good family. And despite her status being lower than ours, he conceded and gave permission for me to marry. Lord Artimas had lectured me accordingly. I, being the good son, had listened intently, though secretly I hoped he would soon shut up, so I could go to Catherine.

Dressed in my finest suit, I immediately visited her parent’s home and uncharacteristically hugged her father. Her parents instructed me to await their dispatch when an appointment to meet with their eldest daughter would be arranged. Soon after, I received a letter from Catherine, agreeing to meet me in her father’s church in Marazion.