Tears of Leyden (9 page)

Chapter 12

Later, I sit reading poetry in Nadeje’s bedroom. It is quiet apart from the occasionally blowing wind outside and the faint sounds from the streets. It is, to my surprise, not too cold but drafty, even with the window cracked. My eyes run over the pages of the book Nadeje brought me. I wiggle my toes as they begin to tingle from the draft and force my eyes away from the page as I reposition myself from the chest at the foot of the bed and crawl under the covers.

There is the light clopping of hooves on cobblestone outside, and I am diverted from the page. I hear a man shout and I am reminded suddenly of the night watchers, the guards who survey in the nighttime. I tense. I wait to hear the desolate screaming of Meleiya and moeder fill my ears until it is unbearable, for the memory of them to scorch my brain until it is branded there, ready to remind me at every turning point. I sit like this, frozen, until the party passes the house and all is quiet.

When I break free from the tension I realize I am trembling. It is nothing to worry about, but it is there. I turn over and set aside my book, when I hear Nadeje out within the other rooms. For some reason I relax from the assurance of not being alone, and feeling defiant against him being the reason I feel quieted, I lay down and say grace and blow out my candle light. I lay here then, wishing I hadn’t blown it out, the dark my new thought occupation.

I wake up to the soft beating of boots upon pebble stone ground. It is foggy outside, and my body feels warm only because I rest under many blankets and sheets. I turn over slowly, sitting up and tiredly looking out the window. A Dutch soldier passes, and then a few women and a young child pass, dressed out for working at the wall. I slouch weakly, rubbing my eyes with my hand and trying to waken the part of me which still is drowsy. I hear Nadeje somewhere in the kitchen and the sounds of pots and glass clanking. I sniffle from the cold and weakly murmur grace. With a thought of moeder and Meyleia, I begin to rise.

When I step out, Nadeje is sitting reading through one of his new journals. He looks up to me, and closes the cover. “Did sleep help?”

I nod faintly, not wanting to tell him how many times I tossed and turned.

He sighs. “How are you with the book?”

I glance down at the distance between us. I do not want to tell him I finished it, but it occurs to me that he already knows. “I read it.”

He sits back at this and his eyes smile. “Hmm.”

I feel my cheeks heat up as he watches me, but I manage not to avoid his gaze.

He swallows. “I think I have a solution to our difficulty with getting out of prison.”

I look at him a moment unsure if I had heard him right. I knew he said odd things but this, his admittance to it being a prison, was altogether another thing.

“Do you wish to go to the market with me?”

I feel my whole body tighten in response to the offer. I know this is most likely disallowed of me, not disallowed but prohibited of me. I am meant to remain here trapped, in solitude. He bringing me outside would be dangerous, risky, and could root conflict with his fellow people and the rest of the King’s society. Surely he must know this. He knew its risk and was taking it for…I stop.

For me.

I watch him in repentance to the pleasure I feel.

He seems not to see the worst of my reaction. “I would need Arturo’s assistance…he would look out for us as we go…but not beyond that point.”

I feel everything inside me break apart, like it is no longer one system anymore, but many systems, working out of rhythm and without a purpose.

“I would like that…” I fight back the urge to cringe at my lie.

I don’t want to be taken care of,
especially
by those who did the opposite to my family. I don’t show this.

“Are you hungry?” The offer was kindly meant but I feel sick to my stomach.

I look down and mildly shake my head.

He does not say anything for a moment, but does seem to see something in my action. “Do you want anything?”

I look up again, and this time, I hate it. I hate him. I hate my life. I hate everything that has made it to this point.
How am I supposed to accept him?
He is cruel to be kind. They were monstrous when mean. I want to yell at him to stop.
Make him stop.
All I do though is shake my head and turn away to his room.

When I am safely inside, I let the tears come. I let the fear come. I let the anger come. I think of nothing and everything.
I am alone.
I am alone and there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t hear myself, or anyone else. I didn’t want this or any part of it.
Why am I here? Why has it happened so fast? What am I asking myself? What is the point of this?

I can’t calm myself for the next several minutes and remain standing, shaking, and unsure of what to do. I don’t know how time passes, but I wake up again the next morning. I wake up and feel hollow. I wake up and feel soulless. I wake up and feel like even individuality has left me.

Chapter 13

I make my way unhurriedly down the cobblestone street, bracing myself against the fog and trying to find something for distraction. I do not hurry. I know that before me lies time and behind me lies my past; neither of which I wish to be habituated with.

I stop at a fruit stand and let my eyes wander over the pomegranates, bright red in the dreary environment. Feeling watched though, I keep walking on, towards a further stand without any intention.

It seems that all grains are still out, and meat gone as well. The butcher is missing from his stand, and only a few small close-shore fish are at the sea stand. Nothing is precisely flourishing. This should not surprise me, but I suppose being in the household of a Spanish soldier, you are blocked from the truth for others.

I see a few children with the fruit trader to my left, and don’t know how I could look on a child again without seeing Meyleia’s petrified face in my mind. I have stopped in the middle of the stands and have no real want or need to move. If I was not obligated with being watched I wouldn’t. Nadeje follows me, keeping at a distance behind. I know of only one thing which I could strategize to lose him, but I am gripped with the guilt and anger at the guilt so that I couldn’t perform it on my own. I dreamed of it last night and I know it is possible. I could there pay debt to moeder and Meyleia, maybe I could end this for good.

I know he thinks I need to be outside, maybe he thinks I want to just stay outside in the market to leave the house, but that is only half of the truth. I want to leave him too, leave the market, and leave the street. The one sanctuary, the one place I wish to go to is only one, one which I can barely bring to mind myself.

I tighten my hands into fists and hesitate.
Could I escape the market? Could I make it there? Was I ever fast at running?
Not too well, but it could do.
Would I know the way?
Yes. I could sense my way after hearing so many unfortunate souls who were brought there from their homes. I feel like I am wronging too many.
Would it be a sin?
No.
Dangerous?
Yes.
Could I succeed?
I stand here, unconvinced of my own plan.
Am I strong enough?

I glance over my shoulder and find that Nadeje has been distracted with the children who are begging upset stands. I am thankful to the cause. I watch long enough to glance him drop several copper coins onto one of the stands and hear them still conversing. Before I can’t, I turn away.
Did he just do what I believe he has?
I think of the coins and the sound of them clinking through the market.
Could I be in the wrong? Should I stop?

I move on, quickening my steps as I get farther. I head straight and around a slight bend and sharply turn into a dark alley and hurry to the opposite end. I then go left, into a quiet empty street. Hoping I am not in private property I hurry past some homes and turn out of the street. I turn again into another alley which bends and meets up, farther off, against the eastern wall. I know here it is tricky if I encounter anybody, for there would be nowhere to run and no one to call too for help.

I am circling the city the more steps I take. I turn left and find another darker street, and quickly make my way into the outskirts of the businesses. I walk on through the route and finally find another alleyway. This one leads me out into a small square, where I hesitate only a moment, then continue forward to a framed entryway leading to where I wish to be most.

I look around me and see no one. I am alone. I look back to the egress and look at the sign hanging from a chain hooked across the entrance. The sign reads two words, and these two are all I need for the cold to finally reach me.

Hanging Gallows.

I breathe breathlessly in a soft manner, trying to remain quiet in case there is someone near. I hesitate.
Should I?
The sounds of water dripping onto cobblestone echo in my head. I look once more for any danger.
No one.

I shakily step forward, making my way through and ducking under the chained sign. I am inside. I glance back and see the cobwebs and dust on the back of the sign. Since the siege there weren’t many hangings, all were too busy trying to save the city to concentrate on an occasional criminal. I dismiss it and turn back to my path. I ignore it as I hint the smell of mold across the walls and continue to step down the route. The passage has stone walls and was built evidently for the usage of a few to enter at a time, looking from the size of its girth. I had never been inside before now.
Moeder would not let me.

It is dark and the torches above carry no flames, this contributing no doubt to the chilly air. The atmosphere is getting slowly denser, and I cannot help but notice the stale smell of odor becoming more potent. I continue on. I walk for at least a minute until I reach another archway leading out of the tunnel-like route. I stop a moment to listen to what is around me. Once more there is nothing to worry for. I embrace what now lies ahead and move on.

The moment I enter the large open room, I smell it before I know I am there. The aroma is thick with mud and a drafty sort of dust appears to carry the waft of mildew. The room feels like a prison, but without bars which you could look through. You see nothing but everything. The walls are sealed tight despite their cracked stone fittings, and the floor is swept with dust and cobblestone. Embedded in some of the rocks on the wall are scratches as though for marking dates. Lining the walls are occasional torches, which seem to have been of more use to people than the ones in the passage. Somehow despite the stillness of being in a closed in space the temperature drops. So does my ability to breathe in the fragrance of this place. My eyes gravitate towards the center of the room, but as my gaze finds the occupation there, I find I have less want of this place.

I watch as it sits there, the very damnation of this room. The ropes and splintering wood beams all making up the horror picture. My heart beats uncomfortably as I can think of nothing but the poor souls, who were here once, could be here still, if they had not been taken. I am lost as I try to find any rationality in using such a machine, how society takes any pride in such treatment to their fellow people.

I swallow hard.

This is truly one of man’s death mechanisms.

Then, I notice some other still shapes lying in the far off shadows. I am stopped.
No. It can’t be that they would…
but it is. My breath is caught and I stand frozen, chills run down my legs and I grow faint.
How? How could they actually…is it humane?
I feel sick. I knew I would see this. I had wanted to see something of death, but dreaming evidently is much easier than seeing. I briefly scan over the figures, searching for what I beg not to find.
Please. Please God in your grace grant me this one thing if nothing else...please.

I want to look away, more than anything I want to ignore it and run from this place. To leave for good. My eyes continue to search as though it is survival. I am torn between knowing the truth and protecting my innocence. Evidently I am taking truth over wellbeing. I try to breathe, but it is harder now than ever. My lungs feel collapsed and my stomach is upset. I need fresh air but there is no will in me to move from my spot unless I am delivered the motivation to make myself move.

I grow impatient. I feel my eyes sting and feel my throat closing up. I want to cry out, scream, sob, fight, and yell, even though I know there is none here to hear me except the dead, and none here to feel my blows but myself. I battle with myself to remain calm, but in about 30 seconds I have lost that battle. My heart falters and vision blurs, I feel nothing but grief, guilt, ruin, depression…but these start to fade.

I grow cold and fear my mind as it grasps at the sore spots in my heart where I keep moeder and Meyleia. I realize how quiet it is for the first time and it scares me more than the sounds of armed forces would. The worry grows as I think of Nadeje, and how more than anything I wish he wasn’t away from me too. I scare myself. My tears grow to an unstopping point as I try not to admit it.

I am alone.

I can’t remember how long I have been here. I am lost, alone, scared and want to leave. I want to go. I feel haunted. I can’t possibly move. I cry. All I can do is cry.
What if men find me? Will I be hanged? Would I be taken away? Killed? Be thrown in that bloody pile as those were before me?
Only three words come to mind in description of my pain; paralyzed, shocked, and frightened. I am too involved with the thoughts spinning around in my head to process the sounds of boots hitting the cobblestone ground. My body feels tense and cold. I can’t feel or sense anything. I want to curl up and hide, like a child, fearful of the most harmless things.

Then, I feel it. There is a gentle sensation and touch against my hand. It is warm and no more than a light presence, but ever so softly Nadeje moves me to him. In moments I am shielded from all the cruelty and ghosts of the room. All I can see is his shirt. I let it happen, not knowing what else to do. He is warm and undeniably comfortable. I almost immediately let my sobs unfold and feel no resistance towards the salty tears which I cry.

I can think of nothing, only the tears which pour down my face can dwell in my mind in this moment. All I can feel is guilt and shame, grief and fear, from what I am now aware of to be in this city. I feel loss for moeder and Meyleia and for all the souls who departed here. I cry out all I held inside, releasing what I have been burdened by for so long. I let it out;
all of it.

I half feel Nadeje against me, half feel only the clearing pain inside. I lightly grip him and try to breathe deeply once. The breath catches in my chest and I exhale quietly, trying not to choke on the air.

Then all I feel is nothing. I dive deep within myself in search of further pain but find no more. I let the last of my tears leak down my cheeks and breathe slowly, regaining control. I then let a few silent drops fall as it ends. I smell no blood. All I smell is…I open my eyes a little to find the fabric of Nadeje’s shirt. I close them again and I feel myself slowly wake up to the present circumstance. I feel suddenly fearful, not of Nadeje, but of myself. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as I realize this is the longest I have been held by anyone since childhood. I can’t think of anything straightly…apart from him.

I unsurely move my hand a little up and curse myself as I falter at the rise and fall of his build.
This isn’t allowed
. I never have gone against law.
I had reason
. It is not suitable enough for others to judge though. The chance to let them judge it is also unsuitable and precarious. I feel shaky, but I remain only a moment longer.

I unsurely press my hand to his chest in request of him to move for my release. I slowly raise my face from his chest and look up. His eyes watch me, reading mine and my expression.

“Are you finished?” His voice is gentle, warm and sincere.

I shy a little and can only manage a nod, even though I don’t feel I could ever be done.

He slowly releases me, and I wipe away the drying tears which still rest on my face. He moves only enough away so that it is not uncomfortable and I am thankful. He waits a moment as though to see if I am alright, and giving me space he steps ahead to the passage. When not too close and not too far from my place he stops and turns back for me.

I glance at the dead bodies still lying there once more. The uneasiness returns from the gore and unpleasant sight. I wish to leave. He lets me come a few steps of him and then turns and leads me as before, only it feels less rigid. I keep my distance as earlier, though no longer mind being within reach of him. He leads me in silence down the route and I am left to wander through my own thoughts. I try to avoid the thoughts of what I just saw and wish to see what I feel better with.

Nadeje walks slowly, and I can’t help but watch him as well as where I step. I shiver and try to not act like a child. I can’t seem to think exactly of what happened or where I had just been by my own choice, or of whom I had been saved by not my choice.

We make our steps quieter on the cobblestone as we near the egress to the city streets; us seemly knowing the risk of night watchers. We are almost there, when he stops and turns to face me. His face is shrouded with shadows, but the features I looked up to from his hold are unchanged.

“Why did you choose to come here?” His voice is soft and undemanding.

I watch him a brief moment, not sure of how to respond. “I…I thought I could handle it. I just never thought it to be as…never expected it as…” I pause, not sure how to end.

He amends it. “As it was.”

I look him in the eyes. “That much cruelty...”

He watches me. “Any killing is cruelty, Ms. Thimlet,” he responds calmly.

I look down. “I agree, but this was…somehow…much more so.”

He watches me. “Lyra,” I hear the gentility in his voice. “There is only so much the world can hold of goodness.”

I look up at him and he waits a moment. He turns again and starts off. I swallow thinking of his words and the informal way of him calling me by that name. I wait, but knowing my surroundings are unsafe, I follow.