by Linda Mooney
She looked around her. They were in some open area where several streets converged. Tall buildings like massive sentinels stood along all sides. She was within a group of people in ordinary clothes. These people brandished sticks and other implements she couldn’t identify as they advanced toward another group blocking their way.
Large, metal, cylindrical-shaped objects were pointed at them. Situated beside and behind these objects were men all dressed in identical clothing. Those men had to be the military. But instead of brandishing swords, most of them carried small versions of the tube-like object. To the rear, one of them sitting astride a horse raised his sword.
“Fire!”
The cylindrical-shaped objects boomed, sending something she couldn’t see or identify into the crowd of people gathered with her. More of them shrieked as the invisible weapons ripped them apart. In the billowing smoke, the army raised their smaller versions, and the loud pops coming from them echoed and rebounded off the walls of the stone buildings. The screaming never ceased as blood poured between the rocks set into the ground.
Frantic, she looked around for someplace to hide. Someplace where she could remain out of sight until she could locate Muam. Seeing a small alcove with a recessed door, she slipped into it and peered around the corner to observe more of what she assumed were villagers mounting an assault on the soldiers.
It was a bloodbath. The military was well-armed and better trained. The villagers seemed to have no organized plan of attack. They were attempting to overwhelm the soldiers by sheer numbers and gut determination. She had seen such attacks before, in several of her past lives, where the leaders of such armies tried to overcome the other with nothing more than bravado and prayers for luck.
“Halt! Drop the pitchfork!”
She whirled around, giving a little squeak of surprise. Muam had found her, but the grim expression on his face was not that of her beloved. He wore the uniform of the opposing army, and was holding one of the weapon tubes, which he shoved toward her. “I said drop the pitchfork, or I’ll have no choice but to fire!”
“Muam! It is me! Gova! Do you not recognize me?”
Her plea must have touched something inside him. That, or the sound of her voice. He seemed puzzled, detached. Giving a little shake of his head, he looked back at her, and his golden eyes widened. “Gova!”
“Take him!”
Three of the villager men suddenly appeared behind Muam. One snatched away his weapon as the other two grabbed him by the arms and threw him onto the rocky ground. Muam grunted when his back and head struck the rocks, and his eyes momentarily glazed over with pain.
The man who’d taken his weapon aimed it at Muam, and Gova knew this was to be his death. Even as she understood it, even though she realized it was inevitable, something made her intervene. A heartbeat before the man made the weapon explode in Muam’s face, she threw out her free hand, knocking it to the side. The weapon went off, and the stones in the road shattered, sending shards into the air.
“Miriam!” The man tried to backhand her. She side-stepped to avoid being hit. What she didn’t expect was for one of the other men who had attacked Muam to come up beside her and wrap his arms around hers, pinning them to her side. She struggled to free herself, but his arms were like ropes of iron.
The man who’d tried to slap her angrily raised a fist. She felt her jaw and cheek go white with agony from the punch to the side of her face. She tried to scream from the pain, but the sound caught in her throat. Blood filled her mouth. Gova spit, and bits of teeth fell to her feet. Facing the man, she spat again, and was satisfied to see a glob of blood strike his chin. “Hit me again, and I will claw your eyes out!”
The man laughed. He raised his hand to strike her again, but one of the other men blocked his way. “We don’t have the time to fight among ourselves. Kill the dog, and be done with it!”
“No!” Gova threw herself on top of Muam, shielding him with her body as she turned to face them. Her mind raced to find some way to protect him and keep him alive a bit longer. Just a little longer. Long enough to let them share a kiss and few words of hope and love. “No! We can use him…use him…as a hostage! We can barter with him!”
“For what?” her attacker demanded.
“He’s already one of the king’s pawns,” another man sneered. “Kill him now. We need to go. Quickly.” He glanced around the corner. “They’re starting to advance!”
“No!” She batted away the tube weapon again, enraging her attacker even further. Instead of aiming it a third time at Muam, the man pointed it at her head.
“If you won’t let us kill the dog, then you will,” he directed in a dark voice.
Gova started to shake her head when a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked it back. At the same time, the third man, who’d remained silent all this time, picked up the pitchfork she’d dropped and placed the pronged end at her exposed throat.
“Kill the dog, Miriam. Or we’ll kill him, and let you watch before we take turns punishing you for your treasonous actions.”
Her hair was released, and the tube weapon was shoved into her arms. Her attacker grabbed her hands and manipulated them until she was pointing it at Muam’s face. The man’s rough hands began to squeeze, and she knew she couldn’t resist these insurgents anymore.
Fighting tears, she managed to catch Muam’s eyes. “Forgive me,” she softly begged. There would be no final kiss. Not even a few words of love to sustain them until their next life and encounter.
Muam swallowed and sighed. “My Gova,” he breathed.
The tube went off, turning Muam’s face and head into pulverized flesh and blood. Gova screamed and dropped the weapon as the three men began to laugh. They were not prepared for her to wrest the pitchfork from their grasp. Placing the pronged end against her throat, she sprinted toward the stone wall across from them, impaling herself upon it when the end of the wooden handle hit the building.
She never had the chance to see the three men die when the French troops discovered them hiding in the shop’s doorway.
Chapter 16
North Atlantic Ocean, 1849
Muam became aware of the fact that he was lying on his back when he felt his body falling. Instinctively, he tried to clutch the ground beneath him. One hand found smooth wood, and his fingers automatically curled around it. The other hand lay tangled amid cloth.
His body rose. When it reached a peak, he began to fall again, for a moment he was suspended in the air until his back reconnected with the padding beneath him.
Something moved along his side. A warmth shifted from his ribs and hip. He heard a sigh, and he opened his eyes.
A wooden lid of sorts sat no more than three or four hands’ breadth above him. The possibility that he may be lying inside a covered wagon crossed his mind, but that wouldn’t explain the smooth, almost flowing sensation of rising and falling. A wagon would jolt him as it bounced and swayed over the road.
The person next to him sighed again. There was no mistaking the more feminine sound. This time she rolled over and snuggled next to him. Her head adjusted to a more comfortable position as it rested on the crook between his arm and shoulder.
A thought flashed through his mind. What if, in this life, he already had a wife? It was a circumstance he’d never faced before, having a wife and possible family when he awoke. As he contemplated what difficulties might arise when he left to seek Gova, he heard creaking noises behind him. Above his face, he observed shadows from a nearby light swinging from side to side.
A hand reached over his chest, to lie palm-down above his heart. Licking his lips, Muam turned his head to look at the woman cuddled beside him. In the flickering brightness, there was no mistaking the beautiful curves of her face.
Gova.
They were already together. Whatever had happened in this lifetime, the gods had been generous, and allowed them to find each other before they awakened. Unable to resist, Muam rolled onto his side to face her, and drew h
er tightly against him.
They fell again, rolling and dipping sideways as if whatever they were on was moving over a vast and rolling terrain. Lying on his side was also better than being on his back. His stomach had started feeling queasy.
Muam nuzzled her hairline, breathing in her unmistakable scent. The uneasy feeling in his gut settled somewhat, and he kissed her forehead. She adjusted her legs, then stopped, and he felt her body go rigid. There was no mistaking her awakening, and he chuckled. “We have been blessed by the gods, Gova.”
She lifted her face as she opened her eyes and stared at him. In the weak light, her violet eyes were the color of the night sky. Their world fell again, and she clutched the front of his tunic.
“What… Muam, what has happened? Where are we? How did we end up here together?” She glanced over his shoulder. “And why is the bed moving like this?”
“I do not know or care, my beloved. All that matters right now is that we have this chance to be together, and to console one another before our next death.”
Before she could respond, he bent to kiss her, and she eagerly responded. Sliding her free arm around his neck, she pressed herself closer to him. He lifted his hand to caress her hair, when his knuckles brushed the side of her breast. An unexpected shiver went through them both, and Muam felt his loins tighten.
“Gova, I know we have not had the chance to become husband and wife in the physical sense.” He started to say more, when she placed a finger to his lips, then replaced it with her own mouth. He felt her hand reach down between them, and he tensed. His mind went blank as the thought that they might finally be able to consummate their marriage rose like a hungry beast within him.
They dropped with a hard, unexpected jerk, hitting the bottom of whatever they’d fallen into with a force that left them shaken and breathless. They lifted slightly, and when the fall came again, it ended with another bone-jarring slam.
The sound of heavy rain came from behind them. The skies cracked with flashes of light, illuminating where they were lying, and a voice yelled, “We’re taking on water! Everyone topside! We’re taking on water!”
Muam rolled over to discover they were lying on a bed above another bed. A little more than arm’s length away, another set of beds were set against the opposite wall of what appeared to be a very cramped room. One man jumped down from his upper bed and glanced up at them.
“This storm looks like a bad one, Hugo. Pray to the saints they’ll see us through.” Pressing a cloth headdress over his head, the man scrambled up a narrow flight of stairs, through the open doorway where the wind and rain blew in.
Muam eased himself onto the rolling floor and reached up to help Gova down, when their room tilted nearly sideways. A hard wave of water thundered into the room, drenching them in its frigid wetness.
Gova wiped her face. “It is salty. Muam, are we on the seas?”
He shook his head in answer and carefully made his way over to the steps as their room slowly righted itself. He felt her grab onto his belt, not so much to keep her balance, but to make sure they were not parted by another onslaught of seawater.
Rain was coming down in torrents when they managed to emerge from their room. It only took them one look around for them to understand what was going on. They were on a boat, a big boat, in the middle of the seas. They were also caught up in a huge storm that tossed the boat about like a leaf in the wind. The sky was a dark, ugly gray-green, the color of a deep bruise.
In the semi-darkness, several men could be seen through the curtain of raindrops as they struggled to keep their footing on the slippery floor. There was no way they could fight this tempest. Another man, also wearing a cloth headdress, approached them and handed Muam a length of rope. “Here! Tie yourselves to the deck, or else you’ll be washed overboard!” His next words were drowned out by the sound of another wave slamming into the side of the boat. Muam managed to snag Gova with one arm and part of the boat’s railing with the other as the floor lifted sideways, nearly throwing them into the waters. Gova screamed and clung to him as they were soaked to the skin.
He groaned, fighting to keep his grip on both her and the boat, when the floor righted itself. One man made his way over to them, one end of a rope tied around his waist. Rain sluiced off his headdress.
“Makes you wish you’d stayed in the mother country, doesn’t it?” he halfway teased. “I don’t know what would be worse. Dying of starvation because of that damned potato blight, or drowning.”
“Why were we forced to come up here?” Muam shouted to be heard. “We could have remained below, where it is drier.”
“They say we’re taking on too much water,” the man replied. “They’re pumping it out as fast as they can, but this leaky old tub has seen better days. If this storm lasts much longer, we’ll all be goners for sure!”
They were met by another couple who had tied themselves to each other. Like everyone else, their sodden clothes were plastered to their bodies as they fought their way over to where Muam, Gova, and the other man were gathered. “What do you think our chances are that we’ll reach the Americas?” The man and his wife’s faces reflected their trepidation.
The boat shuddered beneath their feet, and the wife gave a little shriek of fear. She grabbed her husband’s arm with both hands. “Take me below, Jack! We can’t stay up here on deck! We’ll be washed overboard!” She pleaded with him as she frantically tugged on his shirt.
The man tried to reassure her. “We’ll be all right, Maura. ‘Tis but a squall. It’ll blow itself out soon.”
“Can’t we wait for it to blow over below?”
“Didn’t you hear the first mate? The ship’s taking on water. If we stay below, we may be trapped in the rising water. No, it’s safer up here, even though it feels like the good Lord is trying to see if we can sprout wings and fly.”
The ship groaned as one end of it lurched upward. Simultaneously, a wave of icy cold water leaped over the sides, pounding them with such force that they slammed onto the deck. The ship squealed again like a wild animal caught in a trap, and rolled onto its side. Jack yelled in fear as he began sliding toward the railing. Maura scrabbled for a handhold, and managed to snag Gova’s foot. Gova cried out as she was dragged closer to the edge. She tried to wrest herself free of the woman’s fingers, kicking at the woman’s head. Muam felt the strain on his arms intensify to the point where he thought they’d be pulled out of their sockets.
Suddenly, the ship righted itself. Maura let go of Gova’s foot and began crawling across the boards toward her husband just as the vessel lolled to the other side. Both Jack and Maura stared at Muam and Gova in stark terror as they slid helplessly across the water-soaked deck, to the other side, and eventually dropped over the edge, into the turbulent sea. Glancing around, Muam noticed the deck appeared empty. Neither could he see any sign of the man with the cloth headdress who’d given them the rope. Either they’d all been taken by the waters, or they’d sought refuge below. In both cases, he and Gova seemed to be the only people left on deck.
Muam’s arms were aching to the point where he could no longer trust his hands and fingers to obey his will. His body was chilled and every muscle numbed. Yet, somehow he was able pull Gova against him, where he wrapped the length of rope around them both, then tied it off on the railing. If the ship continued to pitch, and they were washed away, they’d still be able to climb back aboard.
Water smacked them across the face. Muam felt some go up inside his nose, making him choke. Likewise, Gova coughed up the brackish liquid she’d accidentally swallowed.
“Muam!” Raising her face, she placed her cold lips to his ear. “We are not going to survive this!”
“I know, but I cannot stop myself from wanting to live!”
An almost human-sounding scream pierced the pounding roar of the waves. Using his arms and legs, Muam held onto her with every last ounce of strength. “We will get through this, Gova! We must believe!”
She lifted her fa
ce from where she’d buried it against his neck. At the same time, he heard a tremendous cracking sound and caught a movement from overhead. Before he could react, a section of the mast landed on top of them, followed by lengths of heavy rope and white sail cloth.
He had no knowledge of how long they lay buried beneath the debris. They were trapped and unable to push away the piece of timber, or crawl out from underneath it.
“Gova.” He tried to rouse her. It was hard to breathe with the weight of her and the wreckage directly on top of him. She was lying face down, and he realized she’d taken the brunt of the impact across her back. “Gova!” He shook her to wake her, but she remained unresponsive.
Fear rose inside him. “Gova! No! No, Gova! Wake up, beloved!” Tilting her face so he could look at her, his worst fear was confirmed. Her eyes were open but glassy. Unseeing.
She was dead.
“Noooooo!” Throwing back his head, Muam screamed at the heavens. No! She could not die without him! She couldn’t leave him there, unable to follow her into death! “Govaaaa!”
The ship listed hard to the right, so close to the water’s surface that he could feel the waves lapping at his feet. Rain continued to pelt him in the face, running into his nose and almost drowning him.
Drowning him.
With Gova and the mast on top of him, he was securely pinned onto the ship’s deck. There was no way he could slip out from underneath her and the rest of the rubble, and plunge into the seas to drown.
But there was an alternative.
With great effort, he began to jerk on her body, maneuvering it to where he could bury his face in her soaked clothing. Once she was at an angle where he could manage it, Muam took one final look around at the raging storm. “Wait for me, Gova,” he whispered. “Wait for me to join you, my beloved.”
With no other choice, he pressed his face against her cooling body, stuffed the sodden material into his mouth, and slowly suffocated himself as the waves continued to wash over them.
