He glanced once more at the coffin, and realized he was going to put the woman he loved into that box, that airtight box. She’d have no air to breathe. Would he allow her to be killed under the guise of smuggling her seemingly-dead body out of the village? How could he keep her breathing? He choked up at that point, wondering if, after everything he’d tried to do to save her life, he’d managed to set himself a trap he couldn’t escape, a trap that would mean her death after all. How could he fail now?
Aldus walked over, along with Matilda, and the two of them put comforting hands on his shoulders, attempting to help him through his grief. “We need to finish this, Will,” Aldus said. “The Traders will carry the coffin. But we need… her… before we can do that.” He allowed himself to glance through the open door at Elizabeth, and he choked up a bit himself.
Will composed himself. “Not all of the Traders, Aldus.” He looked over where the remaining trio stood. “Not Eleanor.”
The woman blinked, her face full of shock and anger. “Why… why do you say that?”
“Elizabeth should be carried by those who were her friend, who never truly denied her. While none of the Traders hurt her and did nothing to stop those who did last night, they did do everything they could to ease her life of pain while she lived. All but one. You were advised to treat her better, Eleanor, and advised how you could do so. You were made aware, repeatedly, by the Traders of her suffering. Most here followed the example of Arthur because no one ever suggested to them to do otherwise. Not so with you. Your words, as I recall, were: ‘better her than me.’ She was a far better woman than you, and you denied her a better chance of living a decent life here. No, Eleanor, you verbally and directly rejected her. You’ll not carry her to her final resting place. Step aside.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, anger on her face, but was silent at a withering glance from Will. She instead chose to look closely at her feet.
Will glanced into the crowd and noticed one of the weavers, a woman named Kay, standing there. He recalled that Kay had, in a fashion, befriended Elizabeth, and had in fact been the one chatting amicably with Elizabeth the night before, right when Arthur’s rampage triggered the events leading to this moment. Kay noticed Will’s glance, looked around, and then back at Will. “Me?” she asked.
Will nodded. “Though it started late, you did become a friend to her. I think she’d want you to be here. Please, join us.”
Kay, nervous, moved toward the coffin, avoiding the withering glare sent her way by Eleanor.
Joseph put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “We’ll need the body,” he said quietly.
Will took a deep breath and nodded. He walked into Elizabeth’s room and scooped her into his arms, wishing he could hold her forever, but knowing his duty. He carried her to the coffin and laid her inside with a gentle touch, laying her head back slowly, the bruises and lacerations still noticeable. His eyes, attuned to the movement, caught a very slight movement in her chest, and he had the syringe nanos inject a small amount of additional opium. He recalled the words of the woman who’d sold it to him, words of caution about injecting too much. He’d never asked how much that was. A chill covered him. Was he, even now, killing her, before he even dealt with his concern over her air supply?
He stood back, thinking quickly. Gerald handed him a long coil of rope, and Will noted that he and Aldus had slung the coils over their shoulders, and he followed suit, not troubling himself to wonder what purpose the rope might serve. His panic rose as Joseph and another carpenter began to slide the lid atop the coffin.
“Stop!”
Arthur moved forward through the crowd, and the carpenters stopped and looked at him. “Please, I… I need to put this with her,” Arthur said. He held a small pouch in his hand.
Will stepped forward, glaring at him. “What is it?”
“It’s… it’s jewelry that Genevieve loved. She stopped wearing it years ago, before she died. I think she would have wanted Elizabeth to have it.” He looked at the ground. “I waited too long to give it to her. She needs to have this, for Genevieve’s sake.”
Will held out his hand, palm up. Arthur hesitated, then handed the pouch to Will. Will opened the pouch, and inside was a simple necklace and a golden hair pin. To the crowd, it looked as if Will choked up at the sight of the necklace because he was touched at Arthur’s moment of sentimentality, no matter how suspiciously or posthumously it arrived. In reality, Will was choking up because he was holding the necklace Hope had worn on their wedding day. She’d never told him where she’d gotten it, only that it had been a family heirloom rescued by a friend.
The pin, for some reason, spawned an idea. Pins were used to puncture, and pins — or needles — could be used to do things like draw blood, puncturing the skin and enabling blood to flow out of the body through the needle and into a tube. He could create microscopic punctures in the surface of the coffin with small “needles” built of his nanos, opening up passages for oxygen to enter the coffin. Elizabeth would be able to breathe. He retained his visual focus on the necklace and pin as he directed many of his remaining nanos on this task.
Once the puncture holes were built, Will heaved a deep sigh of relief, a sigh likely seen as a final farewell to his friend. Will placed the necklace and pin back in the pouch, noting the red, velvety texture, and leaned over the coffin to place it on Elizabeth’s stomach. He took her hands and wrapped them around the pouch, a symbol that even in death Elizabeth held strong to the memory of her mother. He then stepped back and nodded at the carpenters. The men slid the heavy wooden top onto the box once more.
Arthur walked to stand next to him. “I can’t believe she’s truly gone.”
Will! I can’t breathe!
She was still awake? Weren’t his puncture needles working? There’s air in there, Elizabeth. You must be calm. He focused on the nano-needles, ordering them to expand the size of the puncture holes to allow more airflow, and at the same time, he focused on the syringe, emptying more of the contents into her bloodstream.
After a momentary delay, he finally replied to Arthur. “Nor can I.”
The carpenters worked, pounding the nails into place.
“She looked so much like her mother, except for the hair.”
“Did she now?”
Will!
He tried once more to focus, but Arthur spoke yet again. “Beautiful, golden hair, much like Eva’s. Elizabeth always loved Genevieve’s hair. She thought her hair looked like pure gold, and loved to touch it. She said it made her feel like a princess."
The last nail was completed, and the carpenters tested the lid to make certain it was secure.
Wi—
Her voice cut off, leaving Will in a panic. He had no way of knowing if the opium had finally had its effect, if the air had truly run out and she’d lost consciousness, or both. He focused his Energy inside the coffin, pushing calming Empathy Energy at Elizabeth, willing her to sleep and to breathe. The puncture holes provided a minimal amount of light, and he dared not light up the inside with more Energy to confirm, but it did look like she was breathing. He exhaled deeply, but still worried that, between the opium and the air situation, he’d somehow hurt her permanently. The worry was draining him, and he wondered if he’d have the strength to help carry the casket.
“I wish you could have met her.”
Will looked at him, his face fatigued and anguished, momentarily forgetting who it was he hadn’t met. “As do I, Arthur. It seems that I would have had a better chance of doing so if certain people had better control of their emotions and tempers.”
Arthur glared at him, eyes flashing anger, but then he relented. “I suppose I deserved that.”
In most cases, Will would have felt sorry for a man reacting as Arthur had, accepting responsibility for his actions even when directly called upon them. It was an act Will felt to be a sign of true character, the ability to recognize one’s mistakes and to learn from them. He’d rarely promoted anyone within his busin
esses until they’d made their first mistake so that he could see how they handled failure. Then again, fewer people seemed capable of handling success than failure.
Will took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to convince himself that Elizabeth was fine, that the opium was working as designed and keeping her in a deep sleep, and that soon this would all be over. It would have been an easier task if the last thoughts she’d projected weren’t those of a woman suffocating, however. He moved with the other pallbearers, taking his place in the front on the right hand side, with Matilda and Aldus behind him. Gerald, Kay, and Arthur lined up to the left of the coffin. Will sent a withering glance at Arthur, who seemed to realize that, as the one who had disowned the deceased and thus enabled her slaughter, he had little right to a position of honor in her funeral procession. Joseph the carpenter moved to take his place. The six pallbearers bent down, grasped the poles set under the coffin, and stood, lifting the box from the ground.
Will felt more drained than he’d felt in years, sick with worry that this funeral procession was not a mirage after all, but the real deal. His deepest desire was to drop the handle, tear the lid off the box, and teleport the two of them away, nurse her to health, and then escape to live out the next ten centuries together. What would they do for that vast amount of time? There would be plenty of opportunities for travel; they could explore the “New World” centuries before European settlers would consider the possibility. They could watch historical events unfold: see the invention of the printing press, watch Martin Luther nail his Ninety-Five Theses to the door of the church, witness the battles of Joan of Arc. They could make themselves invisible and watch the great Italian masters like DaVinci and Michelangelo create their masterpieces, and watch the settling of Plymouth Rock by the Pilgrims. They could witness the crafting of the Declaration of Independence and the debates around its passage. There were many experiences they could share until he was finally born and ready to meet her — but she needed to survive his own carelessness first.
He reached his Energy inside the coffin once more, trying to sense and to feel her breathing. In the process of doing so, he didn’t notice a large rock in the path and stepped on it, twisting his ankle and stumbling in the process. He recovered quickly, and glanced behind him.
“Are you all right?” asked Kay.
Will nodded, and faced forward again. He wasn’t certain, but in the course of his stumbling, he thought he’d heard a small exhalation of air as Elizabeth’s body had shifted inside the coffin. It gave him enough hope that he was able to make the rest of the journey to the grave site without further misadventures with rocks in the path. He did keep his Energy flowing into the coffin, calming Energy meant to help her relax and breathe in her opium-induced sleep.
The grave had been dug deep into the ground, deeper than the six feet Will had expected. Perhaps everyone had taken a turn digging as some form of penance, though the depth of the hole would have no impact on the level of tragedy that had occurred. The pallbearers walked on either side of the open grave and gently lowered the coffin to the ground. The box sat atop the support poles, perched over the open hole, and Will wondered how they’d get the box into the ground. They wouldn’t just drop it, would they? But he then saw Gerald and Aldus threading the ropes under the coffin, and did the same with his, until they created a small bit of netting under the coffin with the three ropes. They lifted the coffin in the air, and Winter, the metal smith, moved forward to pull the support beams away, enabling them to lower the box into the grave, until at last it rested at the bottom. All six pallbearers dropped the ropes into the grave and stepped away.
Arthur stepped forward. Though he was no longer held in great esteem, he was still a senior member of the community, and as the father of the victim was expected to speak in her memory. Will began channeling Energy to the trees all around them, recharging himself for the effort to come, as Arthur began his speech. “We have suffered a great loss. Elizabeth was a young woman of beauty, possessing a generosity of spirit rare among any I’ve ever met. She has uniquely contributed to the success of this community, and we mourn that she will be unable to continue to share in that success. In her memory, we must continue to move forward along the path she cleared, to see the sights she made available for all of us. In many ways, she epitomizes what we are striving to be, ever seeking to push the boundaries of human development. We will not let her death be in vain.” There were murmurs of agreement and appreciation of his words.
Will looked around at the small assembly, incredulous. “That was a beautiful speech, Arthur. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think her death was of her own choosing. Let me offer my eulogy. Today, this young woman is laid to rest as a human sacrifice on the altar of greed and laziness and cowardice. She is mourned by those gathered here, not because they truly sorrow at her loss, but because they do not know where the next sacrificial victim will be found. They cry not because she is gone, but because they fear they’ll be the next chosen to join her, the next innocent bludgeoned to death by so-called neighbors. None of you have any right to be standing on this ground; you all bear the guilt of her demise, regardless of the number of blows you delivered.”
Most of the eyes in the gathering fell to the ground, their silence speaking volumes to the guilt they bore and the truth of his words. Arthur’s eyes blazed in anger. “How dare you!” he hissed. “How dare you belittle her in such a fashion! My daughter worked harder than anyone here to unlock the secrets we know wait just beyond our grasp, teasing us with their potential, and you tarnish her memory before the dirt is in her grave?”
Will marched straight to Arthur, until he could lean down and stare directly into the shorter man’s terrified eyes. “Get out of here now, Arthur.” Will turned around, his gaze taking in all of those assembled. “All of you. Leave this place. You gave this woman no peace during her life. You failed to give her a childhood full of fun and play and laughter. You never gave her the love all children so desperately need. You feign interest in her now, as if you expect that to atone for the crimes you’ve committed against her. Her life is over; it’s too late to seek forgiveness now. Leave, so that her final burial is performed by hands that didn’t drive her into that grave.”
Will turned back to Arthur and again stared down the shorter man, who finally withered under his gaze. Arthur turned and left the clearing, followed by the rest of the villagers, leaving Will alone with the coffin and the empty grave. Silence followed their departure, suggesting that he was alone, but Will knew that Arthur had not gone all the way back to the village with the others.
Will knelt by the open grave and inhaled deeply, a man grieving in silence at the loss of a loved one. He then rose, seized one of the shovels left behind, and began pushing the dirt into the grave. He was doing more than that, however. He sent his entire collection of healing nanos into her once again, and directed them to focus on extracting the opium from her system, not knowing if the nanos could process a command of that nature. He was also sending his Energy to every living thing in this part of the forest, and receiving greater Energy in return, and when he felt his Energy stores filled he teleported Elizabeth’s still form into the cave. The mindless work of shoveling was the perfect cover for him; it enabled him to focus his attention on the cave, projecting Energy there, willing it to be used in her healing.
When the grave was filled, Will found a small length of rope on the ground nearby, and used it to fashion a small cross from two tree branches. He pushed the marker into the ground, and knelt once more. He allowed the tears to flow, weeping over the life the villagers had wasted here, and hoped he hadn’t ended it prematurely.
Ready to face her again — hopefully alive — he rose to his feet, marching into the trees in the direction of the cave. Much to his disgust, Arthur stood in his path, leaning against a tree, appraising him, as if trying to decide on something.
As Will approached, Arthur reached his conclusion and addressed Will. “You l
oved her, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question that Arthur directed at Will. It was an accusation, one designed to twist the emotional knife just a bit deeper, and perhaps locate a weak point for future exploitation.
Will glanced at the man. “I will love her until the end of my days.” And then Will punched the man square in the face, turned, and headed away from the village, deeper into the forest, ignoring the cries of pain and shock as he focused on his goal. He needed to get to Elizabeth and learn the truth. Had he accidentally killed the woman he’d been sent back in time to save?
Arthur waited until Will had left, until he was all alone there outside the clearing, before he made his way to the grave. He fell to his knees, taking deep breaths.
“I know you can’t hear me, Elizabeth. I know you’d never believe that I loved you if I told you. I don’t know how to show love, Elizabeth. I never received it when I was a child. My parents were court jesters, and they divined the perfect act for entertaining the nobles. I was constantly in chains, chains that gave others control over everything I did. They’d hold me down with the chains and beat me. They’d use the chains to prevent me from eating, yanking my hands away from my mouth just as I’d be ready to put food in my mouth. And everyone laughed at me, my parents loudest of all.
“The chains remained on when the act wasn’t going on, when I’d be in a cage, never allowed out for any reason. I finally figured how to open the locks on my chains, and I ran away. I was captured and made a slave, but it was better than what I’d ever known.”
He took a deep breath. “I treated you as I’d been taught, but I refused the chains. Never the chains. I wouldn’t let anyone ever be in chains. It was a vow I made to myself. And there was one other. I’d never be subservient to anyone again. They’d be subservient to me. I’ll rule the world one day, Elizabeth, and they’ll all fear me, and I’ll never be in chains again.”
Preserving Hope Page 26
