Tears of Leyden

by Baysinger-Ott, Naomi

  I feel my stomach churn and I could vomit again. I cannot speak without him starting it. This makes me hate my moeder for her teachings of etiquette.

  “Zenith is of good family and nature…” he pauses. “Your reason is invisible to me,” there is a pause. “You could explain it to me, perhaps.”

  I feel my heart flutter with hope. I look up. “There…is…reason that is dear to me…” I think of Nadeje and the safety of his embrace, how he could give me power and strength when he touched me, and as if he is touching me now, I grow in strength. “When moeder and Meyleia were taken…the only reason I was not further hurt was...because of…prevention. I was taken somewhere where I was treated equally and kindly…and I…was kept safe and cared for…I was protected and never denied…anything…and…I…I grew to…care…for the one who cared for me.”

  There was a long pause and I feel as if the air in the room has dropped several degrees.

  “That was imprisonment, Lyra,” his eyes are stone cold, as though he had been driven by this for long. “I received a letter threatening that my child was under the bars of the Spanish…and that if I was to continue on my voyage after my illness…she would be tortured. You were held there as bait.”

  I shake my head, half forcing away the truth of it and half standing for my reasoning. “It wasn’t him…it was his position to take care of me…he didn’t know anything of me or the purpose of his holding me until…now.”

  “Who?” his tone is low and not as gentle.

  I swallow. “He…is not who he is…as in…what he is…is not how he looks at the world…or acts…he is gentle and not wanting and warm…” I can feel his patience fleeing. “He is of Spanish descent.”

  I can feel he has stopped breathing for a few seconds. When he begins to again, I grow in need.

  “He was not like them…he supported us…and he took care of me…he loved…” I stop.

  He steps back, turns, and stalks to his desk. When he is there, he stops and stares down at the spread out maps.

  “Lyra,” it is soft and loving, but I feel my hope draining away. He takes the corner of a map and folds it in such a manner that I feel I can hear it crease. “I cannot allow you to feel these sentiments for a Spanish man.”

  I feel my heart drop. Once more I cannot speak unless I am encouraged to.

  He turns slowly. “Your betrothal to Zenith is settled and reasonable, it has been years of discussing and planning to make it happen…it would not be respectable to act on our behalf without the other’s consent. Your safety too, Lyra, is not to be meddled with…if you were given poor life or if you are mistaken of his intentions…I cannot and will not risk your safety for a fondness for one so out of rank. There is also our bloodline.”

  He fingers the edge of the map and looks down and far off. “Our blood is such that…the family line is so pure. It would not be reputable or decent at all to mix your blood with one so diverse…it would certainly ruin the family name. I will not have all this weighing on you with a marriage. It would be irrational and be seen as a foul move on my part. It is highly proved that you are our last blood relative left…and so it is my misfortune to have to strongly encourage your wedlock to Zenith.”

  He raises his eyes to look at me and I stare back in desolation. My head is thudding, and the sound is the only thing keeping me from crumpling to the ground with a faint. I breathe shallowly and the air seems to be thinner than remembered. I swallow hard and can’t even manage tears as I process all he has said. I feel my breath rattling in my chest and force away the mixed emotions which cause this. I can tell he is not pleased with the ways of society, but I also see that he is pleased with his way of dealing with me about it. I keep my eyes locked on his until I know it is useless. I turn my head away as my eyes blur with tears and a sob nearly escapes with my breath. I try to regain my composure, but the more I try the more the pain urges me to let go.

  “Lyra,” it is soft again. “It is your duty.”

  A single tear drop escapes and streams down my turned cheek. I blink hard, careful not to let the rest follow the lost drop as I can feel that I am being watched. My face burns as I know Zenith will undoubtedly be able to see the tear. I feel exposed and trapped between four barriers. One lies before me, one lies behind, and to the sides of me are walls which cannot be broken. I then have two choices; to turn and talk to the wall which would be utterly pointless, or to turn and talk to one of the living barriers whose thinking could be shifted. I cannot make myself turn at the moment, but once I have regained myself I will.

  “Do you wish a moment to discuss with Zenith?”

  I mildly shake my head.

  “Do you wish to be left alone?”

  I once more shake my head.

  “What is it you want?”

  I cannot respond.

  “Lyra, I have nothing to help you without…”

  “I wish to go home,” I let it out as weakly as I feel. I close my eyes and breathe deep. It is true in two ways; one is that the hut is technically my home, and the other is that ever since he had sheltered me, Nadeje had become my home.

  The room is silent apart from the flicker of the flames in the lamps and my light breathing. I do not look around to see their expressions. I keep mine hidden with my turned cheek.

  “That is all you wish?”

  I hesitate but nod.

  “You will be escorted there as soon as possible, by Zenith and another man from my wing. I cannot tell you when because the chaos outside is hectic…to leave you out and about there…you could be…lost once more. I can’t lose you again.”

  And I can’t lose Nadeje. I know requesting no escort and going sooner would be pushing my limits, so I let it slip aside.

  “For now, Zenith, would you please deliver her to the upper deck where she may get fresh air?”

  I shake my head. “I need to be alone.”

  He watches me, as though unused to being spoken to without direct bidding for another to do so, and I see how he has changed. He looks to Zenith. “Guide her to her chamber then.”

  There was only a slight pause, and then the door behind me creaks open. It is my signal to move, and I do. I turn and avoiding his gaze I step out through the door. He allows me to pass but I feel the distance now between us. I start back towards the dark steps, and the light vanishes as the door is shut behind me. It is damp and cold and I wish nothing but to be upstairs and not alone with Zen. I make it to the stairs before he can assist me, and begin up them.

  “You are not cordial to me then?” It is gentle, but I can hear his resentment.

  I pull myself up a stair. “No…I only cannot make myself feel a certain way.”

  His hand supports my waist as he starts to climb. “I feel there is more to your dislike,” it is a little bitter.

  “You are mistaken then.”

  He sighs. “I thought you held your grounds a little firmer than that.” It is mocking this time.

  I hurriedly snatch up a few more steps away from him. “I thought you were dead.”

  There is silence, and I hear him moving after me. I make it out in time as to not let him touch me again. After he draws himself out, he stands and looks around us and not at me.

  “So you fell in love with the enemy then?”

  I look at him. “I cannot take your offenses right now. It is not like that…”

  “Spanish man,” he murmurs. “Nothing so contrary to our people.”

  I clench my hand into a fist. “Zenith, you love me?”

  He looks at me and his eyes pierce something inside. His expression changes as he looks at me. “I thought of you often…but I do not know.”

  I watch him a moment longer, wondering if I could ever love him as I thought I could before. No…I could love him…but never as I know what love is now. “Then we are not so close that it matters.”

  His eyes grow deeper and darker. “It matters. We were given no choice in this Lyra. I believed in you and you did me. I waited for yo
u.” He is no longer humble. “Our births are matched and tied by our moeder’s. Yours is dead and it is engraved in her stones that we were to be married...you would want to break that promise to your moeder? No. I cannot let you run after something so irresponsible and leave me to bear the rest.”

  I feel my throat tighten. “I did have a say,” I answer softly. “I chose you.”

  His face lightens from the scowl to ignorance.

  “Thus I could remove you just the same.”

  There is no response. I walk on. I do not look back to see if he follows. I look out over the side of the ship and view the area. Around me is water and Leyden, both vast and mysterious in the new fog rolling in. I listen to the sounds around me and try to remain at calm with myself. I think of Nadeje and I know it is helpless to try. I wander away from my place and to the back of the boat to look out across the water. It looks endlessly deep, and eternal. So much must be in its depths, life that is. I think of Nadeje as I gaze out at the repetitive movements of the water. Our love, I want it to be like that; Endless…deep…eternal…and lively.

  I feel the light inside me flicker with the thought and look away. I cannot let myself…if it is true that I will not be allowed to join with Nadeje…I must distract myself. I glace to my right and find that Zenith is walking towards me. I look down at my hands as they grip the side of the boat. He is upon me. A flicker inside warns me that someone is near me, and I turn my head in time to see Zenith enter my space.

  “Let me take care of you,” it is earnest and warm.

  I can’t look at him as my heart pins.

  “Look to me if you need help…not someone who imprisoned you…”

  “He didn’t…” I stop as I think of the last few nights, of his love to me, and of his religion. I fight back tears as my throat tightens.

  Zenith sighs and I hear him shuffle his feet as though unsure of what to do with me.

  “Please,” I whisper. “Take me somewhere alone…to the chamber, Zenith.”

  For a moment I am afraid he will object, but he merely sighs out impatiently and strides out behind me. I take a moment, but when I turn he has crossed only a few steps of the deck and is waiting for me. If only I could mold you…I think it plainly but significantly. If only I could mold you into my new dreams, my new beloved…then all could be as we wished it…all could be as it should have been.

  Remembering how long I have stood here, I move to follow him. He turns to lead me and takes his time, as though giving me time. I like him, but can I love him? Can I love another after Nadeje? Can I bear to share a lifetime with someone other than Gilch? No…I couldn’t bear it.

  He stops before another passage down into the underdeck and I reluctantly let him draw me down with him. At the bottom, this time he does not linger and moves ahead to guide me down the lit hallway. It smells of wood and salt here, more so than above or in my vader’s place underdeck. He stops before a door reading the numbers 816, and here takes a ring of keys from his pocket. I watch as he struggles a moment to find the key and, twisting it, he manages to break it from the ring. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, heading inside. I do not follow, not wanting to be in such closed corners alone with him. Not that I do not trust him, just that I cannot bear to trust him.

  A shadow flickers to the ground as light spills from the door way. I remain. He exits the room and seems unsurprised by me still standing here. Reaching out, he hands me the key. I watch him, uncertain of my allowance. He watches me back, his eyes still honorable if anything.

  “I can imagine how distrustful you feel amongst us, especially with men you don’t even know.”

  I take a moment to process his words, and when I do I shakily receive the key. He watches me a moment as I read the inscription in the medal, and when I look up, his eyes are full of devotion. I cannot stand it. Thankfully, he passes me and starts off back down the passage, leaving me to entertain myself. I stare down into the dark passage and it only takes the thought of how many pests or rats might live in that dark hallway for me to enter the room.

  I look inside and am startled by the largeness and brightness of it. There is a cherry wood dresser to the right, and before me a queen size bed with white sheets fills most of the area. To the left is a tub and a wash basin, and a mirror hangs beside the bedside table, also to the left of the bed. I admire the desk a moment, pushed up against the entrance wall, and then silently close the door behind myself.

  I don’t know what to do with myself. I look at all the furniture. I had found it splendid, but now I find it weighing on my soul, only making me feel guilty that Nadeje is not in such a room, relaxed as I, and also knowing where I am.

  I set the key on the desk, and after a moment of thought, I cross the room to the hanging mirror. I look at my face, seeing myself for the first time in months. I am not surprised to see that my eyes have lost their shine and are dim with what looks like deep regret, that my hair is still soft and long as I remember it, but also seemed to have dried a bit, possibly from stress. I was prepared to see the paleness of my face, and the jut of my cheek bones; but I am also unprepared to see how elegant I look, and how rosy and tender. The quality of being fed due to Nadeje’s care, I realize. I wonder a moment, if Nadeje too saw the abysmal quality in my eyes, the paleness of my skin, the lack of tenderness in my cheeks from being starved, or if he saw something deeper, something past all of that. If he still saw past all of that. I think of that Spanish ship heading in the opposite direction. There had only been one, but I know there had to be many more. There were many more. Many more that he could have caught.

  With a leap of my heart I quickly turn away from the mirror, no longer interested in seeing the good in my face, if I had no Nadeje to serve it to. I feel the tears rising in my eyes and choke back the urge to scream. He has not left me. He would not leave me. He promised. We promised each other. We swore. Or did we?

  I cannot hold it back.

  There is nothing left now.

  I curl up into a ball and lock myself up against the pillow. Tears blur my vision and I try to force them away but they grow. I close my eyes and a drop escapes. Just like the opportunity to have Nadeje escaped me hours ago. It is my fault, all of it.

  I remember the first time I met him. His unfamiliar touch and the way I had feared him to oblivion. He had been calm from the very start and still is, even in the most horrific times of his life with me. I think over his gentle teachings about the beans and rice from his home, and of the meals we ate in silence. How he had been so patient with me I have no clue; all I know is that he still is. I recall the time he explained separations in his religion in dough. I remember the first kiss, how soft and delicate it had been, and what it now grew to be. The comfort and care he had offered me at every point of dejection and how his hand was never too far off to reach. If only I had taken it. I feel again the protection of his hands around mine and how he had given up his escape for me.

  I hug myself tighter and blink as more tears sting my lashes. I feel the misery boiling up inside me. This is what is feels like…how moeder had acted after vader had left…I had at times thought her overly affected by his absence, but it hits me now, hard, that no matter how much you love others, if you lose one dear to you, you forget all else…for what feels like could be an eternity.

  I think of Zenith and his pulse I felt not five minutes ago. I can feel the struggle and difficulty we would have with each other, and the lack of patience. His pulse had been fast and heated, too flickering for my own energetic pulse. I think of how our connections would be, and if we could ever become harmonized like Nadeje and I were the night we got separated. It had been like music, or black ink on white parchment…like fire, timber, and water. I was the fire catching flame to most substances, and he was the timber and water, always there to keep me burning, but constantly ready to extinguish an erroneous flame.

  Now, this was my destiny; Zenith.

  I close my eyes and choke down a sob. I feel the words float to my
mind like he is with me, the gentle vibration of his voice soothing my spinning head. “No matter what happens you will be taken care of. Destiny isn’t just immediate future, it is interminable.”

  “Yes, Nadeje,” I think aloud. “But it doesn’t mean my destiny will be happy…or that you will be taken care of,” it is a whisper, and one that tells me something more so than the silence of the room. I turn my face into the sheets and let the tears fall. “We don’t have time for anything but immediate future…you don’t have time left.”

  It breaks me, the words, but I let them out, knowing nothing but that it will reach something or someone close to me.

  I remember his soft breath against my ear, and the taste of his mouth on mine. “I can’t promise you eternity,” he had said softly. “But I can promise you my full bodied devotion for this life.” The saliva in my mouth dries out and I feel like the air I breathe is poisonous. Little had I known this life would be so short…at least on his end.

  I hate the words as they come to mind. I thrash out and burst into a fit of sobbing until my stomach hurts from the impact. My throat grows sore but I cannot stop it as it continues. I grab at myself and try to forget where I am, try to tell myself it won’t happen…but the words keep repeating themselves in my brain like a lost melody; at least on his end. I try to make it stop but the moment I do, it returns worsened and I am sobbing. I choke at least three times to the point where I can no longer breathe, but it doesn’t matter if I can’t…he will not be able to either.

  I sob until the breath I breathe feels hoarse and raw, ragged in my throat and shaking in my chest. My eyes burn and I am dizzy, but I keep myself from fainting by focusing on my stomach’s grumbling and the lightness in my thoughts. I feel tired out, like I just ran two miles, yet I feel I have accomplished nothing other than gnawing and pitying with myself. I reach for the sheets and pull them up beneath me, tangling as they wrap around my legs uncomfortably. I bring it up to my face and wipe off the remaining tears from my eyes, trying to unstiffen my lashes from the salty water.