Tears of Leyden

by Baysinger-Ott, Naomi

  I keep screaming as they draw me back. I reach for him and yell, begging, but I am unheard. I am too weak to be felt and too unimportant to be truly seen for what I need. I elbow back a little and my keeper hauls at me warningly. I see Nadeje’s gaze grow severe upon the man behind me. This only stimulates me to continue.

  I kick out and feel my holder cringe. His grip relaxes and I almost rip free, but I am grabbed by others who turn me away and drag me on. I scream out but soon they force on a piece of cloth and my sound is only half of what it was before. Tears drip down my cheeks, and now that I am captured I can hardly feel anything but their cold path down my cheeks. I am broken as we exit the egress. I feel my heart being torn.

  I try to turn back. Nadeje. They would hurt him. God, they will injure him. I push and reach but know it is futile. I twist but collapse as my effort is diminished. I break down. I am as useless as a hurt mule, stubborn too, and they realize it as I do. They scoop me up. I tremble as they take me in. I am silent as they wind through different streets towards the destination they wish to make. I recognize nothing of my home as they carry me forward. I shake all over. I remember the Hanging Gallows and think of Nadeje being…I scream aloud.

  They wouldn’t…no…they couldn’t be so cruel…but I know they can.

  Suddenly, the men stop, pausing briefly then scattering to make space for the approaching figure which is blurred by my tears. Sir Marren. He looks at me with what seems to be pity, as though I am a young girl who learnt something contrary to the truth and is merely throwing a fit about it, but I doubt he has pity inside him for even a little girl. I resent it as he comes closer, wanting to pull back and away from his rotten being.

  “We must perform here, let me teach you what you must be taught and you will have easy work tonight.”

  I want to vomit. I feel sick. I don’t want ease or want to give help to them. I don’t stir.

  “Ms. Orange, we are in need of your pact…allow us a night of your time and you will be let free.”

  My throat tightens and heart falters with anger and pain. I know he will do no such thing…and even if so…what of Nadeje?

  He watches me a moment then speaks. “Untie her mouth. She is quieted now.”

  A follower finds the cloth and much too gently pulls it from my mouth. I look away from the direction of the man to show him I have no interest in his treatment of me.

  “Ms. Orange, let me.”

  A bare hand comes into my view and I know his meaning. I cannot make myself do it; hold the hand of the man who could so malignantly kill another. When I do not move to his welcoming, he takes the matter into his own hands. He firmly grips one of my wrists and draws me to him. “Come,” he says starkly, then he raises his tone. “Stand back but make sure no one is close to this place.” He firmly grips me and leads as the men take order around us.

  We walk only a few steps when once more, he speaks. “I have been directed to bring you to my shop, where you will remain until your vader arrives,” he is steady. I am not. “And then to bring you to greet him at the close of battle, as well as bring you to the safety of his ship.”

  I feel sick. First to lose a moeder and darling sister, then my Nadeje, now I am a treasure sent to be held by my own vader. My vader would never do this…my vader would never make assumptions…but then he didn’t. He knew of my imprisonment. He wouldn’t make me leave something I need…but he didn’t. He left that for his men to do.

  Sir Marren glances at the sky. “It is late, but we have time, short, but enough, if you would take responsibility.”

  I feel anger make my heart beat faster. Take responsibility?

  “There are many paths: one down the market, one through the east square, and one through the alleys, all towards the west, which is our destination. You will be travelling alone, but we will be close by, so don’t get any ideas of running. It is only meant for anyone out this late not to become suspicious.”

  I am lost as my throat tightens.

  “Which would you prefer to take?”

  My head hurts and legs feel like wood. After a few moments of my silence, he turns to me.

  “Lyra, I beg you to be amenable to us.”

  I feel his grip harden and cannot help but weaken as tears rise. He is restraining me; stopping me from running away and making me want to run.

  “You are the last blood relation to your vader. Do you understand me? Losing you would mean he would need to bear another heir, or that the city could come under control of another if he did not have someone to follow in his path of seizing it.”

  I cannot understand what he is saying, my intellect has been distinguished.

  “Lyra, look at me.”

  My eyes are blurred with tears and I cannot find the strength to raise my face to him. He sees this. Suddenly, his hand finds my chin and he harshly lifts my face for me to meet his gaze. I cannot breathe as he stares at me like I am to blame, as though I am being threatened now. His eyes hold a fire, a hollow flickering flame of emptiness that he fills with bitterness. Finally, he drops my face.

  “I recommend the east square path. It is quieter and lacks guards…you should be safer if traveling quickly.”

  I do not look at him; no force could make me look a demon such as him in the eyes.

  “You work with us tonight, and I give you my word that you will be let free.”

  By some blessing of nature, my heart strengthens. “But not Nadeje?” I strike back weakly.

  His voice is undeniably unamused. “I cannot let him go.”

  My heart is splintered. “Why can you not?”

  He stands steadily. “It would be treason. He is in the wrong.”

  I look up. “Release him and I will go willingly.” My heart is hammering.

  He is undaunted. “You will go either way.”

  My head hurts. “Sir Marren.”

  He watches me.

  “I am afraid then that I cannot help you.”

  It takes a moment, but his expression grows heated. “Lyra, every life, every household, every Dutchman here depends on you.”

  “And I depend on him.” My voice is raised and firm.

  He watches me. “Follow my directions.” There is a dark spark in his eyes and I see the hollow fire grow in the cold pupils. He hauls me after him back towards the men.

  I don’t know what this means as a response to my strength, but all I can do is hope.

  “We will take the east way,” he informs. “I trust you to know your stations and keep Ms. Orange safe. I also trust she knows the path. For her lack of knowledge could be our ruin.” He waits a few moments, as though to see if any of his man would object. “Am I clarified?”

  I swallow hard. “Please.”

  He pauses, then turns back to his men. “Mr. Bakesh, go back and receive information of our Spaniard. If he is reasonably unharmed get some words out of him…make it clear to his securement that they are not permitted to hurt him further.”

  There is a moment of silence before a man separates from the group and strides off in another direction.

  Sir Marren turns back to me. “He will be still worked, but I will relieve him of some pain from my officers for now.”

  This was not what I had hoped for, but it is better than nothing. It begins to rain harder now, not only a drizzle.

  “We must go…” He turns and draws me in the direction of our starting point. “Spread!” The bark sends his men striding. “Lyra,” he says it firmly.

  I am forced to look at him.

  “If you rely on him, he now relies entirely on you. Do as you are bidden, and he will remain unharmed.”

  I look him in the eyes. “Promise me.”

  He looks displeased now. “If he is not already dead, I will consider.”

  My stomach churns. Not already dead? I swallow. “Sir Marren I cannot without your word…”

  His eyes narrow. “Then I promise that he is dead to me.”

  I watch him suddenly fearful. No. I am shaking i
n the legs. He continues to stare me down and I know he means me to do as he says whether I do it willingly or not. I put my trust in God. I step forward in my path.

  The air chills me but I feel overheated in my nightgown. A chant constantly repeats itself in my head. He is dead...no...he must be...he is dead...he must be. I try to shake the feeling of being approached by a Spanish soldier. I force myself onward, only knowing this to be the way. As I pass certain alley ways, I constantly feel my heart leap as another dark figure dashes across the opening. I found soon enough that it was only a Dutch man, for the person did not follow alarmingly.

  I hurry forward, not letting myself stop to think of better courses than the one I am on. I walk for at least a few generous minutes before I am troubled by anything. As I walk, the usual grey haze above me clouds the dark blue sky, and the night’s silence would be peaceful if not for my state. The streets are thankfully empty, and a faint trail of moonlight fights its way through the overhead fog. It remains quiet like this long enough for me to gather courage for my duty, but when I gain it, I lose it again.

  I hear the soft sound of footsteps over cobblestone and am not able to identify from where. I turn off my path feeling fretful. I step quickly over the ground towards the other end of the narrow alley. I had made a mistake. I wish silently that I was back on the main streets, out of the dangers hidden in the shadows. Then, I feel it. I know something is close to me, stepping over the same stones right behind. I panic. What if it is a Spanish soldier? I feel my heart pound and hasten its already fast speed as my legs move faster too. What use am I if I am caught by a Spanish man? Then, it hits me. General Gage. I force down the want to run and continue hastily through the alley.

  I am halfway there, when suddenly I am grabbed. An arm snatches me around the waist and in less than a moment a hand covers my mouth, stifling my gasp. I am too terrified to scream. I grab pathetically at the hand, desperately trying the free myself. My trapper pulls me back against him and I grow breathless. I squirm, trying to break away from his hold, too frightened to consider the familiar sent closing in on me. I pull and writhe as I realize it could be the Second Commander…maybe it is what he smelt of. My capturer bows is head and I know I am lost. I am dead, Leyden is dead…who am I fooling? Nadeje is undoubtedly dead. God this whole world is dead to me…

  “Lyra,” it is a breath, lightly blown along my neck as his nose brushes a bit of my skin.

  I stop breathing as I recognize the sound. I remember the smell, the solidity of his body along the back of mine, the trembling blows against my neck from his breathing, and the securement of his arm. I feel my heart waver.

  He lays his face against my neck. “It’s me…”

  My hands go slack on his as my soul lifts like light. I unsurely turn my head to the right where he remains, and the hand covering my mouth slips away. So does my resistance. My legs feel like lead as I recognize the shaded features. I feel my anguish vanish for just one second.

  “Mr. Gilch?” My voice is broken, soft and weak.

  His eyes remain searching mine. “Nadeje,” he requests softly.

  My hands tighten as his arm wraps me closer. “They let you go…” I whisper. I feel relief flood through me. “They let you go free.”

  I finish it as I turn into him, letting him pull me closer. My chest trembles as I breathe, and I feel heat rushing through my head. All feelings disappear apart from the ones coming from him near me. All else is gone.

  When he does not respond I glance up. “They did release you?” He watches me with no given expression. I feel my stomach churn and though I cannot see it, I know my face drops its color. “How?”

  His face is calm. “Practice,” his arms are steady around me. “I have been trained to be a soldier, Lyra.”

  I watch him, my heart again pounding.

  “You’re alone,” he says it gently.

  I feel my momentary panic slowly fade. “Not entirely…I am guarded…”

  He seems to have known this. “What are you to do?”

  I see the serious emotion on his face. “Go towards the east wall…when I arrive I am supposed to…” I hesitate. “I am to remain in my protector’s care.”

  His face softens and I know he has read the details off my face. “Lyra, you know I won’t let that happen.”

  I feel light headed with his words. I know his capability cannot possibly stretch so far, but still a heavy burden seems to be lifted with his promise.

  I swallow. “You need to get out of the streets.”

  It is a whisper, but a look of formality crosses his face. “You wish me to leave you in the streets?”

  I feel my heart beat faster but try to control it. He can at least be safe. “No…but…”

  “Then my plans could differ,” his face is firm, and as usual calm.

  I feel my stomach topple. “Nadeje…”

  He cuts in after seeing my whole expression and apparently reading the reasoning in it. “In times of need there are no times of greed…you must accept to receive freedom…”

  I shake my head pleadingly. “This isn’t time for your book, Nadeje…”

  His eyes are filled with something unknown to me, intense and cored with reason. “The book is me, and I have place in this.”

  I press at him. “Philosophy can’t be the answer for everything…”

  His body is unmovable and he adamant. “Lyra, I won’t let this take you away…”

  I watch him trying to hide my inner happiness with his words, and the fear. “Nadeje…”

  His hands tighten. “I can’t let them hurt you…I can’t lose another person after I just…” He swallows. “Lyra, I need you to be with me.”

  I stop, all discrepancies falling aside to his words. “Nadeje!” It comes out a sharp whisper. My face is undoubtedly painted with shock.

  His face becomes too tender, too soft, too much. He watches me through distant eyes. “Stay with me…I can take you with me. Don’t let them…please, let me protect you.”

  I shake my head as his face becomes pleading. “Nadeje…please go. I am all right…”

  His face grows to a complete beg. “No…no. You’re not happy with your own words…”

  I hate his ability to discern me. “I don’t need to be…if they…”

  “Lyra, let me…”

  “I won’t let you if you are risking your own life and Leyden…what of my home? What of my people? I cannot leave them without doing my duty…”

  His face is a mess of emotions. “Lyra, I love you.”

  Everything vanishes. I have stopped breathing and no longer feel his arms. I lose my arguments. I feel like life itself in the past two seconds has left me. I watch him in total shock and oblivion. I am stolen of speech.

  Slowly I come back in, drawing attention to his gentle hands, to the cold, reigning myself back in with his breaths…which reminds me that I need to breathe…though I cannot. He watches me, soft and needful; never have I seen him look so lost. I feel my heart begin its gentle thuds again. I take a centimeter of breath, but it stops and I cannot find the air any longer. I shake my head. I know not why or how, but logic takes over my body.

  “Nadeje…”

  He watches me, looking drained by the movement.

  “No…” I am too taken to come up with anything more.

  His expression grows a hundred times softer. “Don’t let them hurt me by hurting you if that is what it will take…please…Lyra, I can’t let you go so easily…”

  I shake my head as he watches me.

  “Lyra…please.”

  I feel my eyes grow glassy from happy tears. I push away that happiness. “You wrote yourself not to attach yourself to something so strongly that you can’t let it go…”

  “Lyra…”

  I push it further. “The safest place for you to go is when the Spanish leave.”

  He becomes pained. “You wish this?”

  I do not respond. I can’t, for my answer will go against my own argument
.

  He swallows hard. “Lyra, I need you…please…don’t go from me.”

  I let out a rattling breath. “Nadeje…”

  “I love you…Leifde, I love you.”

  Suddenly, before I cannot do it, I tear away. “Nadeje, I can’t love you!”

  After I have done it I know I have been cruel.

  I feel it stab into him, and seeing his face know there is no mistake that I have torn open a wound. I feel my heart beating fast in my chest and try to calm it, but it is no use. I have broken him and undoubtedly broken myself. He watches me and I can see the pain in his face, the twisted emotions expressed in his heart. I feel the air still around him as he remains frozen, not even breathing. I see the pain bleed from inside to his face, and realize how badly I have mistaken my actions. As it hurts him, I feel it biting into me. The pain is worse than expected and everything goes blank. I feel a longing for his warmth to border me again become extreme.

  I had moved too fast, without thought or contemplation. Now I am shaken and cannot think. What have I done? I feel that I cannot speak, but somehow it comes, though it sounds strained.

  “Nadeje…”

  I hear the fear in my own voice and can only hope that he hears it too.

  He stares at me from a sharp place, as though woken up from a daze to lightening. Only, I am the lightening, and I have struck him intentionally; little did I know the intention could lead to such regretful ruin.

  I can see the remains of his dreams scattered and fallen to the depths of his thoughts. I feel my hands reach to him without bidding. “Nadeje…Nadeje…I didn’t mean…never meant…”

  He shakes his head. “I am in love with you.”

  I feel my heart waver. God what have I done? “Nadeje…please…I didn’t…”

  Suddenly, he grabs my arms and grips me tightly. His hands are tense and grip foreign, but I feel no fear and only nerves. He watches me through clear eyes, the pupils large and intense in the dark shadow light.

  “Tell me you do not love me,” he says it firmly, but I can hear the strain behind it. “Let me feel your disinclination for me…”