The much-awaited and sweet royal wedding gave way to a sad national mourning.
That day the whole city was covered with a shadow of sadness. The English had dressed themselves in dark clothes to celebrate the memory of the prince consort.
It would take a couple of days to organise a solemn funeral in the best way possible: a couple of days until his father and his brothers reached him.
And at the same time the bells of the great Westminster Cathedral rang a slow and sad melody and Gilbert's corpse lay in the private mortuary of the royal family.
Many more tears or at least some sad visits to his corpse would have been expected for a prince consort.
But it was not so.
In fact, the only persons to give a last goodbye to the man were precisely two.
The first to say a last goodbye to him was Francis, his best friend and lover, who once discovered his sudden death could not stand anymore, and had tried as soon as possible to reach the room.
He arrived there, in the mortuary room, cold and cramped, which let the light in only through a window.
The marquis saw Gilbert's corpse, the dead body of his beloved lying lifeless inside the white sheets.
Francis could no longer hold back his emotions, no longer resist the sight of his love so pale and gaunt.
That face full of terror reminded him so much of Thomas, his younger brother and of his tragic murder.
The young man started crying desperately covering his eyes.
In this case too it was the work of Princess Isabelle, he knew it, Francis recognised it from the look full of fear that he shared with all the victims of that angel of death.
He felt he had to say goodbye to the man he loved for the last time, leaving him a quick kiss on the lips.
Francis knew it was right, he knew this was what Gilbert would have wanted.
Tears flowed from the marquis' brown eyes to saltily fall on the general's cheeks.
The door behind him opened, leaving not enough time to finish his kiss.
-Excuse me, am I disturbing? - asked the voice as for Francis it was clear who was entering.
The duchess of Ireland, Abigail Dallas was entering the room, leaning out of the woody door for the moment and leaving only her delicate and beautiful face visible and her long red hair hanging off the side of her back.
Francis as soon as possible regained his composure and quickly wiped away the transparent and salty tears that fell from his eyes.
He quickly nodded negatively and left the body so that Abigail too had the opportunity to greet the man.
Everything changed, however, from the point that once she had completely entered the room, Francis could see the rounded and now evident belly of the young woman.
The duchess, even though she had just turned sixteen seemed particularly fond of her baby that she held in her lap.
Abigail slowly caressed her belly with one of her small and delicate hands and with her other she held it under it, but she did all this with a particular love and care that seemed almost innate.
-My condolences, marquis- admitted the young Abigail thus continuing to caress her belly -I was not aware of your relationship with Gilbert, but now it doesn't matter anymore- she admitted leaving her own fiery red hair fell through her shoulder up to the womb.
Abigail did not shed a tear for that man, not a single one.
-The baby in your womb- Francis began to speak, pulling a few glances at the other's belly -who is the father? -.
To that question the young woman hesitated shortly in answering, but then without any emotion she admitted -It doesn't matter anymore, the baby's father is dead right now-.
At those words it was clear to Francis that the father of the child was Gilbert and at that idea he felt ill.
-I would have preferred...- the marquis to speak sobbing -I would have preferred to die in his place, but it's all my fault...my father seemed to be right, I am no good, I have never been of any use, I am just an useless illegitimate son after all..- Francis cried disconsolately this time - I would have wanted to die! My life no longer has any meaning now- and so saying the young man collapsed crying over the general's corpse, clutching the white blankets.
-Be strong Francis, don't say that, get up! Get back on your feet!- said Abigail trying to console him -crying will lead to nothing, even if you wanted to-.
At those words the marquis abruptly choked his sobs and once again wiping his tears he tried to get up.
-I loved Gilbert with all my heart- he admitted wiping his tears again -but you're right, crying will certainly not bring him back to life- Francis concluded sighing deeply and trying to calm down.
-But Gilbert has given the world his greatest gift- Francis admitted, concluding his statements with a sincere smile - he has given you his child, a person who will always remind everyone that Gilbert is never really dead-.
At those words Abigail was struck, her fleshy and pink lips were half-closed in surprise and her green eyes, although unwilling, had taken some blush, and some tears began to wet her cheeks.
-It's not worth crying...I never wanted to- the duchess admitted to those words, with quick moves, wiping the tears from her big eyes -but I can't do anything...I can't do much for myself now, my child...-
At this statement a harsh truth struck the marquis.
They were all there blocked by now inside the castle, constantly observed, there was no future for any of them.
-I want a good future for my child and if I could I would sacrifice my life too- said the duchess putting her hand on her belly again and stopping her sobs -but the more I look around me every day, the more I see that I have nowhere to go ...-.
- There will come one day...- Francis stated firmly clenching his fists in anger - there will come a day when Isabelle will perish for all the harm she has done- at those words Abigail noticed Francis' eyes full of anger and tears.
-The day will come when the people will turn to tyranny, and on that day I will hang her head on a pike, at the gates of this damn city!-.
Francis spat words of anger out of his mouth and no longer feared, he was no longer afraid of the consequences: death did not scare him anymore.
-What do you think to do then? - Abigail asked turning her understanding gaze to the other and waiting motionless and almost in contemplation for an answer that gave her hope.
-I will wait for the right moment- Francis admitted bringing a fist to his chest -I will avenge my brother and Gilbert, I swear it on my own life-.