Cat and Jo: The Sequel to Catherine and Josephine

By Denise Gwen

In Cat and Jo, the sequel to Catherine and Josephine, the girls have washed ashore in Germanica, a land across the Caspian Sea, the land where the princess was betrothed to the prince, only Princess Catherine has lost her memory, and Josephine decides to take her place. Josephine has no idea the trap that King Stephen is laying for her ruin . . . will she survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Gwen
• Release date: Jul 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005405618

Denise Gwen

Denise Gwen writes!!!

Book preview

1

GERMANICA

W ell, well, well, and what have we here?

Josephine, curled up into a ball and lying on her right side in the sand, slowly drifted into a wary wakefulness. The sand, soft, silky sand, so smooth beneath her, embraced her body with the welcoming comfort of a feather-stuffed bed; tiny, soft sprinkles of sand dusted her skin with a fine powder.

Above her stood men.

She didn’t want to open her eyes just yet and reveal she’d awoken.

She needed time to think and to prepare.

In her mind’s eye, she shimmered as a ghost out of her body and hovered in the air, watching from the air as the men, dressed for battle, shifted from foot to foot and gazed down at her and at Catherine with increasing disquietude.

Is it possible? a gruff, male voice said. Are these the only survivors?

She resisted the irresistible urge to speak out to say, ‘Aye, Princess Catherine and I are the sole survivors of that terrible shipwreck.’

I do believe they are, a third voice said.

The sun peeked from behind a cloud, instantly bathing her face in sunshine, warming her, and she nearly smiled.

Ach, what a beautiful girl.

But just like that, the sun darted back behind a cloud, and a sudden chill seeped into her bones and her limbs shook uncontrollably and she couldn’t stop shivering.

Easy now, a male voice soothed. Easy now.

Feeling suddenly vulnerable, raw, and exposed, her limbs shook and her teeth chattered. Her bare skin brushed against the soft sand, but other things in the sand, not so pleasant to the touch, abraded her limbs. Dreamily, softly, as a feather, she floated back down to the ground and into a condition of awareness, and yet she kept her eyes closed.

What are we to do? another voice said.

How many men were out here? A slowly dawning terror gripped her mind.

These men spoke in rough voices and their dialects sounded strangely alien to her, as if they were monsters who knew her language and spoke it, but did not know all the peculiar inflections. To her ears, their voices, and the pronunciation they used, sounded terribly wrong, foreign, guttural.

Ach, man, we better get them both inside and to safety. The poor princess has taken ill, as you can see.

Oh, poor Catherine. Josephine wondered what’d happened to Catherine to make one of the men concerned for her health; had she vomited, was she turning gray? Was Catherine dying?

Her nostrils flared at the acrid taste of the wet sand, the seaweed. A tiny sea creature scuttled across her leg and she resisted the urge to move her leg, to scream. Gritty sand scraped her skin. She’d arrived, unharmed, on foreign soil. She’d arrived in Germanica, and the remainder of her life lay before her. She’d make a fresh start upon this new life. When she opened her eyes, she’d introduce herself to these coarse men, and in the fullness of time, she’d make a good marriage and become a happy, wealthy woman of rank.

An enormous pair of hands grabbed hold of her by the torso and by the back of her head and yet, despite the massive strength of these hands, they lifted her with surprising gentleness.

Aye, that’s the way, that’s the way, mate. Take care you don’t hurt them.

Even as the man spoke these words, Catherine gave out a guttural cry.

What’s that you said? Oh, it’s the little girl there. Yes, that one—no, not that one, you daft fool! —the other one. Have your brains turned to mush? Can’t you tell them apart? Oh, it’s as plain as the nose on your big buggering face.

Another pair of big, burly hands moved to lift Josephine’s hips, then someone else lifted her legs, and together, the three pairs of hands lifted her, gently, and placed her onto a linen gurney. She shivered from the chill as they laid her body upon the gurney and a pair of hands draped a plush blanket over her form and immediately her skin grew warmer.

Because her body had grown so accustomed to being cold, frozen with chill, she shivered uncontrollably, even as someone tucked the edges of the soothing blanket in around her body.

Aye, aye, that’s the way, mate. That’s the way. Get another blanket on her. See to her. You can’t let her catch chill. What will the King say? He’ll have our heads, that’s what he’ll say.

Catherine must be shivering as well. I wonder where she is, though I don’t dare open my eyes yet.

Another blanket, this one even softer and more luxurious, covered her shoulders, her torso, her legs. At last, a little of the awful chill dissipated from her body.

Hup to, hup to, a rough voice cried out. Let’s get these girls out of here and back to the castle.

Fully awake and conscious, Josephine kept her eyelids closed. She needed time to think before she revealed herself to these rough, yet terribly compassionate, men. A slowly dawning sense of disquietude filled her heart. She didn’t know the cause of the anxiety, but she did know enough to trust it. She sensed something wrong, something terribly wrong.

She and Catherine had been discovered, for sure, and by the King’s men, and they were taking them somewhere, taking great care to be as gentle as possible. They weren’t ruffians, then, and she had no idea where they were, what shore they’d washed up on. They might be miles away from the castle. They may have washed up on the shores of a distant fishing village, for all Josephine knew.

Now, I do wonder, I do. Which one of these fine-looking lasses is the Princess herself?

Josephine winced inwardly. Yes, in a moment or two her identity would be revealed. Catherine would awaken and tell them who she was. Before too much more time passed, and sooner than she cared, Josephine would soon find herself swilling the pig pen, attending to the geese, serving the position Catherine had demoted her to while still on the ship. Nothing had changed for her, nothing, nothing at all.

Ach, cannot you tell, man? Why, it’s as clear to me as—

I know, I know, the nose on my face.

Oh, bugger off.

Catherine let out a sudden, piercing wail, so terrifying it sent shivers down Josephine’s spine. The scream sounded so utterly unlike anything Catherine had ever uttered, it struck Josephine to the core. Catherine cried out as if wild demon spirits had taken hold of her body and mind. Cocooned deep inside her warm blankets, Josephine shuddered as the howls grew louder and more terrifying. Catherine sounded like a wild animal caught in a trap, an animal so eager to gain release it’d be willing to chew its own leg off. She howled again, her voice filled with torment and unyielding pain. Tears brimmed behind Josephine’s eyelids as she listened to Catherine’s cries, and she wondered what horrifying imagery Catherine must be seeing to howl so, like a creature possessed, she was.

The air grew still.

The men inhaled, too terrified to speak, stricken to silence.

Her howls grew more distinctive, the sounds coming from her mouth sounding more like words. It sounded as if she were trying to speak. Cat, she called out. Cat.

She’s crying out her name. Why is she doing that?

Then Josephine recalled the last words she cried out to Catherine as the ship foundered. She’d been crying out Catherine’s name.

Ach, exactly as I thought, the first man said.

Yes, they’d figured out which girl was the Princess, and which girl the lowly maid.

She’s calling out to her mistress, can’t you see? the second man asked. And isn’t that a blessing upon her, to care for her mistress so?

Josephine’s senses tingled with a strange dissonance. What’d he say? It didn’t sound right. It sounded wrong, as if he’d said the wrong thing, but she couldn’t quite place what the wrong was. Something in what he’d said didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t quite place it. Her brain remained as foggy as the bank of fog enshrouding her and Cat in the rowboat following the terrible shipwreck. Her memory glimmered at the edges of her mind. She wanted to say something, to speak, but could no longer form the words or think on it a moment longer, for she sensed they’d arrived at their destination, a large building, perhaps even the castle itself.

She cringed at the great cacophony of noise, the terrifying clanking of gates and the screeching of hinges and the searing scrape of metal shearing against metal, followed by the rough oaths of coarse men, as they hoisted the gurneys in through what must be the front castle gates. As she floated in through the gates, a sudden chill crept into her bones. She sensed dank and moldy stones covered with moss. What kind of a castle was this? Augustus’s castle was kept spotlessly clean, the entrance to the castle keep bathed in sunlight, but as the men carried the gurney in through the castle gates, she sensed a wetness, a clamminess clinging to her skin, making her feel sickly and weak.

She shivered.

Hurry it up, hurry it up, then. These girls are near death.

What happened to everyone on the ship? A strange new voice called out. It sounded as if this person stood inside a doorway, the voice sounding strangely muffled.

Everyone else drowned, the first voice said.

But I thought Princess Catherine brought with her a retinue of thirty servants.

Summat happened, for there’s only the one servant now.

Saints of mercy. You wouldn’t be pulling my leg, would you, now?

Ach, no. Didn’t you hear the news? The ship sank during the terrible storm.

And these two are the only survivors? The Princess and her little maid?

Yes, apparently so. God help us when King Augustus finds out.

Oh, the Devil take him. He should’ve known better than to send his only daughter across the Caspian Sea in that miserable old bucket of his. It’s been out of commission for years.

He’s rather a tight-fisted scoundrel, ain’t he?

Yes, indeed.

Well, and what a daft fool he is, then. Why didn’t he send his newest ship?

He probably thought we’d take it from him.

So that explains the rust bucket.

They continued this narrative all the way inside the castle and she sensed herself being transported down a long corridor. The quality of the air changed, became dry, acrid, and then she smelled lye soap. Nearing the infirmary?

And wouldn’t you know it, but the damn thing sank.

As they talked, they placed Josephine’s gurney onto a long table.

All right, then, on the count of three.

One, two, three.

And the hands seized hold of her again and hoisted her over and onto a soft bed. Oh, how lovely, but as the men howled with laughter and mocked Augustus for his parsimony, Josephine quivered with anger; not directed at the men, but at Augustus. How dare he send his beloved daughter overseas in a ship not fit to sail. Oh, so typical of him and his mean, tight-fisted ways. And then a disloyal little voice inside her said, you’d be defending him, back home in Provence.

All right, that’s enough. A strident, female voice cut through the raucous laughter. You do realize, don’t you, even if her Highness isn’t yet conscious, she’s probably going to remember every word you say, so take care.

Oh, bugger that, one man said, and everyone laughed, but they did lower their voices.

A cheap, persnickety bastard.

Wouldn’t you know, he’d send her on his worst ship.

Oh, Josephine’s body tingled all over with frustration. It took every ounce of her inner will to still her voice and restrain herself from crying out. Floating around in this vapid, dreaming state, pretending to herself she hovered in an unconscious state—well, it’d all been pleasant enough, certainly—but now she’d dragged the tapestry out to its last threads. Time to open her eyes and gaze upon these new people—her countrymen—and accept her new life.

It’d been lovely to pretend, to remain blissfully unaware, but now she needed to awaken. Her life, her miserable, frustrating, desperate life, would pick up exactly where she’d left off when she climbed aboard the ship in Provence. Time to accept her new life.

With a heartfelt sigh, she opened her eyes.

2

Jo gazed up into the piercing blue eyes of a beautiful woman wearing a white headdress and a blue gown. The woman’s eyes widened with joy when she saw Jo had awakened. Shush, everyone, she cried out. Be quiet. The Princess has opened her eyes.

As Jo gazed up into the kind, smiling eyes of the Nurse, she experienced a moment’s confusion. Surely, the Nurse made a mistake? But as Josephine struggled to raise herself up onto her elbows, and as the Nurse stuffed plush pillows behind her back to prop her up, everyone in the room, from the Nurse on down to the burly men who’d transported her from the beach-head, all bowed down with great reverence and mutterings of ‘Your Grace.’

Jo did not know what to do. Then a slowly dawning consciousness seeped into her mind. Did everyone in the infirmary believe her to be Princess Catherine? Apparently, they did. Oh, dear, she needed to amend this situation immediately. With every moment she allowed the falsehood to continue, the closer she drew to the brink of treason. She needed to correct their misapprehension immediately; once Cat opened her mouth, all would be revealed, and Jo would find herself packed off to the dungeons. What a dour comeuppance for attempting to pass herself off as a grand princess.

Best to keep my mouth shut.

And yet, for one glorious moment, she’d adored the sensation of the men and the Nurse addressing her as the regal princess. It amused her. A secret part of her wished she could pull off such a trick, but she simply must set everyone to rights. Cat would recover at any moment, and then the truth would come out.

And if it were discovered Jo had behaved in any way as if she believed herself to be the Princess, she too would find herself standing at the gallows, waiting for the hangman to drop the noose around her neck.

I beg of you, dear people, Jo said, her voice cracking, please, I pray of you, do not pay me obeisance.

A safe thing to say. Once Cat regained consciousness and asserted herself, nobody could say Jo had formed any pretensions of taking the crown.

Ah, one of the Guards said with great feeling, we heard you were a sweet and reticent young lady, modest as a maid, tender as a tulip, and we believed you’d act as lovingly as our good queen, but even those accolades fall short now that we find ourselves in your ethereal presence, dear princess. He looked to his guards, who nodded in agreement. Isn’t she just the most perfect, the loveliest, the most reticent and retiring young woman ever to bestow her goodness and grace upon us?

Tears brimmed in Jo’s eyes as the guards gazed adoringly upon her. Oh, so this was how it felt to be admired and adored, how lovely, but how wrong it was, as well, Still, she hesitated to correct them; her heart swelled with the praise, it filled her up. It felt so good, so amazing, so wonderful to be praised, and so openly too. She’d never heard this kind of praise directed toward her in her life. Well, and true. Oh, to be sure, back when Queen Mathilda still lived, she’d listened to effusive praise directed toward her, but it’d ended a long time ago, and at the time of the Queen’s death. This open worship took her by surprise so much, it took her a full moment to absorb it all before she found the words to dispel the guard’s belief. No, really, she quavered as the guards bowed again, I beseech you—

Nurse interjected. It is true, is it not? Why, look upon her, men of Germanica. Is she not the most wonderful and beautiful young woman you’ve ever met? And are we not blessed to have such a tranquil, such a good, such a modest, such a lovely young princess here among us?

Oh, please, you are all vastly mistaken—

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cat’s eyes fluttering open.

Jo, apparently the only one present in the infirmary who noticed Cat recovering, bowed her head. Oh, how lightly she needed to tread. Even now, she could still be charged with treason. Every single word she’d uttered—she’d been careful, oh so very careful—she hoped someone had retained the presence of mind to write her words down, commit them to memory. For, when the moment came for Cat to assert herself, they’d turn upon her like jackals. The looks of love and adoration would fade from their eyes and turn to scorn and censure. They’d demand to know why she’d been putting on airs, masquerading as a monarch, when the true monarch lay on a bed not five feet away from her. She held out her hands to implore them. She had to cover herself, and now. Please, my people—I am not your queen. Please do not show me such reverence.

They drew silent. They gazed at one another with confused glances. Cat stirred, her eyelids fluttered open.

Any minute now she’s going to speak and assert herself.

Ah, the first guard said, admiration and awe flooding his features, see what a demure, withdrawing type of maid she is. He looked to his guards for confirmation. She, who shall, in the fullness of time, rule as our radiant queen, cannot bear to assume the mantle until it is properly and reverently placed upon her head.

Oh, my God. They’re going to torture me first, I know it. First they’ll put me on the rack, then they’ll hang me. Oh, come on, Cat, wake up. Open your bloody mouth.

Cat rose on her elbows and gazed around her with a bleary expression.

Oh, look. Jo cried out with anxiety. Why look, she awakens.

Everyone turned their beaming attention to Cat. Nurse hurried to her side and put her hand against Cat’s forehead.

How fares she? Jo asked.

What a kind, what a caring, what a Christian monarch she is, the first guardsman raved, to exhibit such care for her servant.

Please stop, Jo whimpered. I implore you.

The entire assemblage hushed as Nurse placed a small, wet towel against Cat’s forehead and murmured soothing words under her breath.

Cat opened her mouth.

Jo inhaled, held her breath, and prayed.

I’m almost certain I didn’t utter a single treasonous word, but then again—

Who am I? Cat croaked.

Jo stared at her, hard. Cat blinked those bright green eyes of hers, but apart from the color, her onetime sister’s eyes lacked a certain brilliance. Her eyes shone with a dull light. The bump, or rather, bumps, to her head from the mast must’ve effected a change to the pretty little princess. She’d lost the keen intelligence hovering behind those bright green eyes. The poor girl, she’d sustained damage to her little head. As she looked around the room, she gazed with the vacant expression of a cow grazing upon a field of fresh spring grass.

Nurse bent forward to cup Cat’s cheeks with her hands. Oh, my little darling, don’t you know who you are? Well, I shall tell you. You’re the little maid Josephine, and you survived a terrible shipwreck.

Cat blinked. Oh, I did?

Yes, the Nurse said, gently turning Cat’s head to gaze upon Jo, who stared back at her with horror, and there’s your regal mistress, Princess Catherine. She too is the only survivor of that terrible shipwreck.

Oh, Cat said, and blinked. She stared at Jo with complete incomprehension.

She’ll come to her senses right now and call for me to be hauled away to the dungeon.

But Cat did a strange thing, something not at all expected. She climbed off the bed and fell to her hands and knees. The Nurse cried out with alarm and ran to Cat’s side. Come, child, she said, helping Cat to stand upon her unsteady feet. With Nurse assisting her, Cat walked slowly toward Jo. Then, with infinite tenderness, she reached for Jo’s hand—the one with the glittering ring on it—and kissed her on the top of the shining diamond. Pretty, Cat said, looking at it.

What a devoted, what an obedient servant, the Nurse marveled. Now, curtsy to your sovereign, little maid.

And God help her, she did.

3

A few weeks later

T here you are, my dear, Nurse said as she walked into the infirmary, carrying Josephine’s breakfast tray. Your porridge and your hot chocolate, just the way you like it.

Oh, yummy, Josephine said, jumping up and down in her bed. How I love my breakfast.

Oh, I know you do, my sweet little goose, Nurse said, setting the tray down onto a table beside Josephine’s bed.

Josephine reached for her mug of hot chocolate as Nurse busied herself with the linens. Oh, by the way, Nurse said. Princess Catherine has made a complete recovery.

Oh?

Yes, and she’s moving up to her royal apartments this morning.

Josephine stopped mid-sip and stared at Nurse. Oh, no.

Aye, child, she is. Now remember what I said. I told you they’d be moving the Princess out of the infirmary before you, didn’t I? And you need to be a big girl about it, too, and not fret or cry over it, neither, as it’s time for the Princess to begin her formal duties, and to prepare for the royal wedding.

Ach, Josephine said, the tears creeping down her cheeks, but it does make me so sad to lose her. She’s my only companion who survived the terrible shipwreck.

Indeed, little one, and it does you credit to love your sovereign so, but she must attend to her duties. She belongs to the entire kingdom now, not just to you.

Aye, Josephine said, wiping the tears away. I shall attempt to be a big girl about it, but I shall miss her very much.

It’s to your credit, child, Nurse said warmly. Now, finish up your breakfast, we’ve got work to do.

It’s the first time I’ve been separated from her, Josephine said, as Princess Catherine, borne aloft on a litter, and attended to by a retinue of servants, was transported from the infirmary. As the servants carried the litter from the infirmary, Princess Catherine turned around and waved and smiled to Josephine.

Look, the Princess is waving to you, Josephine, Nurse said. Bow to your sovereign, child.

I shall indeed, Josephine said, scrambling out of bed and bowing low to the floor. She watched with love in her heart as Princess Catherine left the infirmary. The moment the Princess left the infirmary, though, Josephine was stricken with an attack of nerves. Her body shook uncontrollably and her teeth chattered.

Here, here, child, Nurse said, wrapping a heated blanket around her shoulders and returning her to the bed. My poor little girl, you really are not doing well, not well at all.

I feel so bad to lose the Princess, Josephine said.

I would feel even worse, Nurse said, her lips pressed together in a repressive frown, "were I to lose you."

Josephine gazed up with love at the Nurse. You remind me of someone I knew, back in P-P-P—and

Provence?

Yes, Josephine said, sinking below the covers, her eyelids fluttering closed. You remind me of someone who loved me and took care of me, back in . . . Provence.

As Josephine fell fast asleep, Nurse tucked her in and gazed down at her with a furrowed brow.

Something was wrong with this little maid, but she knew not what it was. The bump to the head was part of it, but there was something else wrong with the girl. Somehow, Nurse suspected, this little one would never recover fully enough to assume the duties of caring for her princess, but perhaps they might find a job for her . . . somewhere, an easy job, one not requiring much in the way of intellect.

She’d do well as the Goose Girl. I must mention this to the Prime Minister.

4

Jo thought the whole rigmarole was silliness personified. Why in heaven’s name couldn’t she simply walk out of the infirmary, now she’d recovered and was quite well? But the Germanican guards would have their way, and when she suggested the idea of walking out of the infirmary under her own volition, one would think, from the way they reacted, that she’d offered to set fire to herself.

Nay, nay, Princess, Knight Ruddigore protested. We must bear you out of here in a proper manner befitting your station in life as the princess royal, on a litter.

But I’m perfectly healthy and can walk, she said.

Nay, your highness, Knight Douglas said. You are our future queen, and cannot be allowed to let your dainty feet ever touch the unsullied ground.

To this, Jo let out a sharp, short, burst of laughter, which hurt Knight Douglas’s feelings, but she apologized profusely, and all was well.

On the morning of her departure from the infirmary, her retinue of ladies-in-waiting descended upon her as if they were a flock of birds, all carrying various parts and sections of her wardrobe, to which they fought over the right to place upon her person. If it weren’t all so ridiculous, she’d have laughed out loud, but the women were earnest and some went even so far as to yank articles of clothing out of the other’s hand.

That’s enough, she said. I shall allow only Lady Ruddigore to dress me.

But I’m the first lady-in-waiting, Lady Rottweiler said. I take precedence over Lady Ruddigore, your Grace.

Jo stood there, aghast, staring at these two middle-aged women.

I don’t ever recall this level of silliness when it came to getting Cat dressed, back in Provence. Why are things so difficult here?

But then Jo remembered something; in the last few years of her life in Provence, when Lady Damascus effectively ruled over Cat, Jo hadn’t had much of a chance to spend any time with her, nor help her with her dressing. Jo seriously suspected, though, that Lady Damascus had handled everything, right down to the ribbons on Cat’s pretty little slippers.

Very well, then, she said, and sighed. As Lady Rottweiler has precedence, and wishes to dress me, I shall allow her to dress me.

Thank you, your Grace, Lady Rottweiler said, attacking Jo with her clothes.

But, Jo added, holding out a restraining finger, I plan on readdressing this issue as to my attire and whom may dress me.

Lady Rottweiler looked stricken.

I was very self-reliant in Provence, Jo said with what she hoped was a lovely smile at Lady Rottweiler, and I may prefer to dress myself alone in the future, but I am certainly amenable to the idea of allowing certain ladies of my household to assist me in my choices.

Very good, your Grace, Lady Rottweiler said.

Yes, your Grace, Lady Ruddigore said, slightly appeased.

Goodness gracious, all the fighting and politicking over who gets to dress a princess. Jo thought it was beyond ridiculous, and she knew she’d have to accustom herself to many other sordid and silly conventions if she wanted to fit in here, in Germanica.

She was bathed and washed and scrubbed and lotioned and pomaded and fluffed and put into beautiful clothes and stockings and petticoats and pantalets and a corset was affixed to her waist and the stays pulled until she could no longer breathe; then, when she’d been reduced into a perfectly useless human being, they put her on the litter, elegantly attired and with quilts and scarves and other accoutrements were affixed to the litter and then the Knights came forward and, grunting, they lifted the litter high up into the air and she was borne aloft and carried out of the infirmary. Just before she left it for the last time in her life, Cat saw her. Cat was sitting on her bed, being read to by the Nurse, and when she saw Jo being borne away, she started with surprise, then, with a little cry, she jumped off the bed and ran toward the litter. Her eyes filled with tears, she reached for Jo and wept and cried out for her, but the Knights turned as one and put Jo’s back to Cat and carried her out.

She turned around at the last possible moment and gave a tiny wave to Cat and they