I sit up now pulling on my dress from bottom to top, after a bath of sweet and expensive smelling soap and warm water, as to not cause stinging in my wounds. I let Mariana assist me in taking off the dress as I see it will irritate the skin, and turn to just putting on a light night dress; airy as to not irritate the sores on my back. I still didn’t know if the whipping had split skin, but I know it left a scar. It had to.
My vader had not come to see me, probably scared for me and ashamed. I wish he didn’t have to be ashamed but I know that it wouldn’t be right if he wasn’t. I am partly glad he didn’t visit, because it meant Nadeje was my only visitor, giving us privacy to speak yesterday.
I curl up in a ball on the bed, its new sheets and blankets crisp but soft and silky. I close my eyes as Mariana leaves me, and dream off a little as I grow absent.
Chapter 31
My eyes flicker open to the faint thud of boots on deck. I can’t tell if they are above or in my room but I don’t check, trusting that Nadeje is still the only one that has my key. There is the soft brush of skin along my hand, and the bed shakes slightly as another form lays on its surface. I do not respond; I already know who it is.
“You got enough sleep?” I ask gently.
He pulls me closer. “As much as I could away from you.”
I curl my fingers into his shirt, and then flatten my palms against his chest. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”
He urges me up a bit and strokes the tangled hairs on my head. “Both.”
I smile a little, and then burrow back in.
“Did you get food?”
I do not answer, not willing to tell him how empty my stomach is at this point and really not caring.
“Leifde?” he once more brings me up and out of my hiding.
“Not yet.”
He lightly feels my cheek, and then draws me back in. “You make me concerned, if shame doesn’t make you eat, than I don’t know what will.”
I snuggle closer and take a fistful of his shirt in each hand. “Your freedom.”
He tucks his chin over my head. “I am free.”
I look up to his throat. “I mean in law.”
He looks back down at me, and sighs patiently. “You are absolutely right that in theory here I am not, but still I am…just as I taught you.”
I watch the fire crackling in his eyes, the soft glow that illuminates his blue iris. “I want you free both ways.”
He watches me a moment, and then curls me close again. “You want me whole.”
I take a moment to understand the gentle murmur. When I do I blush uncontrollably. “Yes.”
I feel his smile against my hair, and slowly he clutches me tighter so that I can feel it on my skin. It is quiet a while.
Time passes by with light contact and gentle murmurs, and his touch never leaves me, or his affection. We speak of times when we didn’t know each other, and of his home, and of things that were never to happen, but that we fantasized about anyway. He tells me of his family, and of his step vader, and I speak of my moeder and little sister, each passed on to a new and hopefully better life. He tells me about how he came across the Protestant belief amongst his vader’s belongings in scripture, and that he then took it on as his interest in life.
“I wished to travel…to learn more about it and other religions…but I couldn’t leave my family. I am afraid I must admit that the part of me that wanted to leave my family because of this curiosity is what mainly got me to follow the command of Alba…I knew I would run into Protestants in an effort against them…so I went. When I got here however, it was a few months back, and there were hungry people and no hope for open religion in Leyden…it was all hidden. I decided to help those who were turned out of their homes in Holland, but was unable to leave when my position was arranged as Second Commander’s personal assistant in guarding the inside of the city for any rebels. Of course, there were to be some, and the indication made by the breakage of the walls was our signal to be careful for any intruders. Still…regardless of my state, I looked out for the people, because our mission was not to hurt them, but to change them from thinking their way was right…I didn’t believe that transformation was violence in action, I thought it was change in action…no more than change.
“That is partially why I concluded that I must also assist those who needed it…not only spy on their privacy. I felt out of place for a while, but when I adjusted to being in control I decided it was my responsibility also, to host the embodiment of egalitarianism. I knew I had to be here for those who needed…that I had a purpose…and that if I sinned, God would have known it was not in vain. That it was out of ignorance…not knowing virtue from sin…I knew I would be forgiven if it did not repeat itself,” he rested his voice a moment by my ear and I process all he has said. “I carried on this way a while…trying to not ignore people in need…but also trying to obey my own regulations as their overseer…I was worried eventually that I would never find my purpose to help someone in need…for no one reached out…of course with all the fear and starvation who would?” It was half questioning, half an answer to himself. “Then I met you.”
It grows silent in the room, and the tenderness between his words returns. “It was not necessarily the best day of my life considering that I almost lost my position…but my life was…changed.”
I feel the warm vibration of his voice through his throat so close to my skin. I let the penchant of it fill me from my toes up my spine.
“It is a poor memory for you I am sure…but it was one where I lead…not Gage. It was special to me and still is not just for that…but…when I felt you…made the slightest connection with you…it was as if I had looked back into a mirror that held all the emotions of my heart from years ago…it was…I swear I could see the…” he hesitates. “There was a connection…when you looked at me…I swore to God I could have seen…relief, the tiniest bit ever in your posture, and it gave me so many impulses at once I couldn’t register what to do. All I wanted…ever cared for…was to protect it…sustain it and preserve it for you, to keep it safe.
“I was determined…I couldn’t understand myself why…until I met you at breakfast that day…that is when I realized it came from the want to preserve the relief that once could have been my sister’s. It pierced me with the memory how she did not get relief from her pain. I saw that relief in you and more than anything…I dreadfully wanted to protect it…as I did…I…” he curls closer around me. “Also grew to want to defend you.”
His voice is soft and gentle, but also energized by confiding in me what must have been fuelling inside for so long. “I cannot be poetical with you with the usual words that express how I loved you when I first saw you…because…well I first heard you when you screamed…but aside from that it is because I know it is not a happy memory for you…nor I…when we first met…and potentially because I grew fond of you…surely it is not the same as instantly falling for you.”
His breathing is soft against my ear. “It only meddled with my emotions after the Hanging Gallows…which was when I took it for granted that I could not keep up your security from wilting or your relief from fading…because only you could keep those feelings alive inside of you. When I realized I had to let go of the need to keep your innocence safe…I saw also that I had grown attached to not just the duty to keep you or the want to repay my brotherly love to my sister by helping another…but you.”
I am quiet as I listen to the sounds around us and then tune back in and listen to him again as he tilts his face to my ear.
“My first impression of you…was the purity of your soul, your mind…and it made me want to protect you…” there were a few seconds of silence more. “My second impression was the struggle you put up for me and my fellow men…your strength making me remember your independence…and the third…” he waits a moment as though listening to something. “Was your fight to act…and it made me remember that I was not alone in that part of life.”
I wait
a few seconds to feel that my heart is still beating after such words. When I find it is, I come back to him. He is quiet, and somehow the quiet feels welcoming. I do not however, speak.
“It was an overall pilgrimage to meet you at a point of understanding…and when I felt I finally had joined you, I only wished to bond more…” he burrows into me. “I often would have to hallucinate over how it could happen…but you somehow agreed along the way and…we hallucinated together until it became real.”
I feel the knots inside me loosen a little with the joy he is putting through me, but I know it is not solving our problem and almost resent it entirely. I can feel the thumping of his heart through his chest and wonder secretly if it ever rose to a level I had not felt before when I was in danger. I turn my face into his neck and the warmth of it masks my face from the outside world for a few forgetful moments. Soon it makes me long for more though. I gently feel my fingers sink into his waist and wish for the freedom to explore him further, but I know better and to keep these desires inside, letting them slip with others that occupy my mind.
I feel the light tickle of his lashes as he blinks against my skin and force down the urge to shiver. I snuggle further into him and he lovingly allows me to hold him tighter. I drift over his words and think of the last bit, until I let myself enjoy gentle talk instead of worrying again.
“Pilgrimage?”
There is a light crinkle of the sheets as he shifts his leg between mine. “Is it not satisfactory?” His voice is gentle and I hear the verge of his smile.
“I am curious to know the scenery,” I reply softly.
He presses his face into me. “It was…rocky…and made me have to plan and sweat to make it to the final destination…I was left winded at times, yet the flowers seemed to bloom despite the endless cliffs and deserts of the hike.”
I smile and burrow into him, feeling him smiling too. “At least there weren’t many climbs.”
He bundles me up into him. “I finally found the grasslands…but yes…I suppose I should be grateful for the lack of climbing up mountains…or plunging into the dark too often.”
I let out a tiny laugh, one breath, one try. “I am glad that you did.”
He squeezes me more despite the already jammed space between us. “I just need to remain there now.”
It stabs me. The words were meant harmless, but they hold the secret we have hushed out now for the past several minutes between us. There is no time to remain.
I would lose him.
Nadeje.
I would lose him again.
The truth of it is too much to bear. My chest feels weighted down, and I am hardly able to breathe from my nose, instead treading it in through my mouth.
Even though he was here now, who promised he would be safe? Who promised he wouldn’t be discriminated against? Who promised he wouldn’t be punished still? Who?
If anything, he would leave me. He would have to leave me. I would make him leave me if the alternative was his ill fate. The dream I had held the past hours for patience with the treatment of my back I now see was too much for me to have imagined. It was fancied, immaterial, and at a distance from my reach.
He would leave. Be commanded to leave. I wouldn’t be allowed to be with him. I wouldn’t be allowed to have him be the master of my body. That was Zenith’s job. That was Zenith’s responsibility since I chose my destiny years ago.
The weight against my chest becomes so heavy I feel it weighing me down. I can’t think of it. I can’t see it. I feel tears prick at my eyes. It pains me to think that I would be ruining the time I have left with him and I close my eyes tight trying to get rid of the tears, but they are adamant as my throat tightens and I am left to hold it back. He nudges me a little with his face and I feel my chest shake as I let out the breath I had been holding to keep from breaking down.
“My Lyra,” it is gentle. “Forever more.”
I grow pained at his words and my chest burns. “Nadeje…”
He turns his head and burrows against my neck. “Forever mine.”
I can’t hear the lies. “Nadeje, it won’t be forever.” It is a harsh whisper, mixed with pain.
He pauses against me. “Your meaning?”
I feel alone in the thought, abandoned to feel the burden by myself. I hate it and want him not to be able to escape and leave me so easily. “I won’t be yours forever…”
He lifts back a little. “You do not wish to be?”
I hold back the sob waiting to be released. “No…I wish it to last forever…past that point…but you…you can’t love me after you…” there is only a small pause before he responds.
“You will always be mine,” he says gently. I feel his face against my neck and close my eyes. “No matter where I am or who I become…you will remain part of my journey…one of the many roads crossed in my life.”
I grow a little tighter. “One of many,” it comes out without my meaning for it to and he hears it.
“There are many roads to cross in life, Lyra. You have been one of my dearest. We both have many more to cross in our lives…” he tucks his face between mine and his chest. “Some with each other, some without.”
It is a strong statement, but by one who is stronger than the statement itself. “You should have been a preacher.”
He laughs at the connection made and it ends in a light nod of his face into my neck. “I would never give up a life with you for precincts of a preacher.” It is softly spoken but not lightly felt.
I feel the warmth of his back in my hand and for a moment can only think about how it would be gone soon.
I try to process what he just said but feel my gears are stuck at the sickness of them. I feel suddenly that the tears are leaking down my cheeks and I have to hide my face against his shoulder in order for him not to feel the tears. I curse myself and the man who was responsible for this. Then I feel it, I am quaking ever so slightly in his arms. I feel my throat collapse its tightness, and a small choke escapes me.
I want to end it right there, but it is only the beginning. I break into a fit of sobs and they gradually grow less held back as it hits me harder.
He wraps me against him and buries his face against me, murmuring all the while promises of how he wouldn’t let them hurt me and how I was here now and here forever in his heart no matter what.
I love it and want it, even would continue to cry for his comforts; but I don’t want it if it won’t last, don’t want it if he won’t stay alive, if he chooses to become an experiment or hanging dead man. I burst into him and feel myself useless as I try to regain composure and try to reach out to find a better hold on him, but constantly fail to do both.
I feel him scoop me up and soon I am in his lap, his back and head against the headboard and pillows, and mine against his chest. He lets me lie against him, violently shaking as more shameful sobs exhaust my body. He does not try to stop me. He listens, letting me deliver the heavy burden I had been carrying into his awareness and letting me avoid further contact until I am ready. I gulp for air and end up letting out an embarrassing wail as I choke into him again. I forget it as he lowers his face into my neck.
I unwind in his arms and let him secure me as I become too limp to stay upright. I feel his shaky sigh hint my ear and I sob with some relief at his indication of pain as well. He swallows hard and I choke on my breath as more tears stream down and into his skin and shirt, and I can’t help but wonder if he felt the cold drops soaking through his clothes.
I feel the small beat of his pulse in his neck and try to calm myself with its lulling rhythm. I feel that my heart beats are faint, and listening to mine I cannot to his. I hush a moment as I listen for the unaccompanied thump but I am diverted by the lone thud of two. I listen to the solid unison of our hearts and whimper as mine flakes a little off course. I curl closer hoping to aid the connection and I feel the duet start up again.
I shake a little with a quiet sob and try to stop it. I feel his breathing light against my
skin. I listen to it and feel my chest move easily following his inhale and exhale, weaker, but still harmonized. He dips his head a bit and ventures into the crook of my neck where he hovers softly. I shift with another sob and the move makes me shift to hide in the small indentation of his throat, where the pit at the bottom fits my nose perfectly. We are silent a few moments, until I feel the light brush of his hand up my back. My hand itches to follow his movement and I realize the truth of human nature and replication. A tear sneaks past my lashes and I feel my eyes begin to water again.
I think silently of his words and of our lives so different yet so similar in many ways. He had lost his family when he was only seventeen and I mine. His memory was blackened by the flames which burned his dreams and mine were watered down by his endless waves of calm constantly soothing the memory.
I wonder if I had calmed his past for him as he has me and wonder what my memory will be like when he is gone. I push away the thought and turn instead to other things.
I think over what he told me of his sister and of his family estate in Spain and how his vader had shown up for his moeder with money and nothing more to persuade the match to her parents. Soon he left her a widow and she never talked of him to the children.
He found his vader’s scripture when he was fifteen, and since his moeder was a strict Catholic woman, he knew it was nothing of hers. He hid the religious pages in his room, and learnt the religion as he learnt things of his vader through his notes. On Sundays, when he could, he went instead to the Protestant church and would be chastised later for being out and about with friends during prayer hours.
I try to imagine what he must have been like when he was so young, already trying to make out the world for what it was. I try to think of what I had been like when I was…thirteen would it be? Yes, we were about two years apart. I open my eyes and seeing his throat I reclose them and inch nearer.
“I hadn’t known him…” I think over the way he had described how his vader was a mystery, and remember how when my own vader left us I had seen his ghost lingering in every doorway.
Tears of Leyden Page 29
