Tears of Leyden (22 page)

I swallow. “Mr. Maessan, could you…help me?”

I begin to move and he hurries to my aid. He supports me as I jump to my feet. Almost immediately I feel my head spin. I close my eyes and try to balance myself. Harold half lifts me.

“Let me go, please,” I say it as my eyes open.

Harold looks to me unconvinced as I ground myself. He slowly releases me but does not step back. When I do not fall, he sighs and gives me more space. I wish he hadn’t for a moment as my legs tingle in warning, but somehow I manage to stay upright.

“Grace…” She is watching me concerned. “Thank you…do you think I can walk a while?”

She looks at me uncertainly, and then slowly nods but seems to only do it for my sake. “Harold, stay with her.”

He nods and keeps close as I take some shaky steps about the room. I feel frail and delicate, knowing now how an old woman or newly walking child feels as they watch my every move. I also feel grateful for their immense support. When I have accomplished ten rounds about the room, I sit down and Grace gives me a few sips of broth even as I resent it. Strangely, it gives me strength and I begin looking for my shoes.

“I need to go…”

They stare at me and for once do not offer assistance as I try to find my shoes.

I explain. “I need to go…or else I could lose someone…”

I feel their suspicion growing and feel no embarrassment. I am serious and resolute. They seem to see this too.

“You are not strong enough to go…”

I look at Grace, pleading her, and there is a connection, one of womanhood, something unknown to man unless experienced between brothers. She reads me and it is settled.

“I will get you your shoes…Harold would you go with her?”

The man turns and looks frightened at her. “Grace, you’re two months in…”

I realize that for the first time, Grace would be old enough to have children.
What was she? Twenties maybe… Harold thirty?
I shake my head. “I will go alone.”

She looks at him bravely. “I will be fine.”

He breathes shallowly. “Nonsense.”

I stand. My head spins and I almost sit back down. “Grace, I am who will be fine. He must stay…thank you.”

She looks at me and I glimpse her hand clenching a bit on her lap, closer to her stomach. She sighs and does not argue further but rises to find the shoes.

In a few minutes I am at the door ready to leave. I step out and look back at the couple in the door way and wonder what it is like…if I would ever feel the companionship of marriage as they do.

Grace looks at me, and there is a shine in her eyes of health, a health that needs to be protected. “Tell him you have already repaid us…” I see her fingers lace with Harold’s. “And thank you.”

I nod, and after a glance to Harold, I plummet into the dark night. As before the streets are filled with dancing shadows and a reckless feeling is in the air. The smooth sounds of the current in the distance coasts in and out of hearing. The rain has stopped, but I can feel the threat of its return closing in, and the sharp clean air from the lightening still flows in and out with each breath. As I continue through a few passages, I catch a glimpse of some places near where I remember the wall to have collapsed. I make myself stay back from short-cuts, even as I want to rush out into the open. I know I am not the only one out at this time.

A cold breeze catches in my throat but I force down a cough, knowing loud sounds are likely to be my end if I meet someone I do not intend to shake hands with. I draw near to the place where I must emerge from the alleys and look out across the lane-like field. No one occupies the perimeter. It is almost silent. I back away, knowing this not to be where I need to be. If no one was there, Nadeje wouldn’t be there either. I head back and take a different turn through some roads and old gardens. This way is much less pleasant, as the bramble from the dead plants tear at my skirts and make me have to take slow and careful steps; else I am to trip or snap a twig. Gradually, I find where I am, and looking out to see a familiar row of houses, I see a flicker of a moving shadow. I quickly move away and into an alley, breaking into a light run to the other side in case of danger.

I rest a moment as I scan my area to place myself. My eyes move and stop on a way between two abandoned houses, or, more likely, houses emptied by fear of the Spanish as men guard the walls and women gather in fewer houses. It is still in this spot, no breeze easily finding passage through these tight corners and narrow streets. I move towards it, no other egress seeming to look right to me. When I am half way through the route, I see I have made either the biggest accomplishment or the worst mistake. In either case, what I see makes me stand very still.

In the distance I can see all the rubble and ruins from where the wall had fallen. Past it the vast body of the river waits calm and still in the dark night, matching the sky’s above color almost identically. This scene lies mainly to the parts I can see to my right, but to my left, a greater picture engrosses my view. Where the wall had broken, now in its place was a ship, stacked with boxes of cargo and men showering in and out. It was docked stably along the canal and jutted half through the break in the wall. Ties of rope were brandished high and locked into place by chains. The plank looks as though dropped, and by these settings I am lead to believe their stay here was meant to be extensive.

The sight makes me hesitate.
Would Nadeje be there?
I would beg to believe that he wouldn’t be…
but if he had been caught…

Suddenly, looking at the boat it dawns on me that this was the vessel I was supposed to
greet.
This was the ship of Sir William of Orange…
of my vader.
Half of me wants to endure and the other half would just as rather take a trip back to the house of the Maessan’s. I feel curious, but I know not to trust the belief that my vader is in this ship so easily. I step closer and look for a familiar figure amongst the men running around and unloading cargo. That is when I notice that people were streaming into the boat; men, maybe those who guarded the walls are now trudging up and taking boxes back with them. Some of them shout or cry out, but I have a feeling that it is not out of fear or misery. It is out of thanks, of hope for survival.

I frown and squint to make out detail of what could be in the crates of cargo, but I cannot seem to place what is inside the boxes. Surely it must be something of worthy keeping for all the men to line up for the distribution. I step forward again but I stop.

Nadeje
…he must be close…must be watching too…or would be unloading…unless he was caught…
then where would he be?
I remember that this was the ship of those who would have reason to take him. Either way he must be close by.
If he had returned for me…
Grace would tell him. He would come for me. Something tells me though, that he is nearby.

I feel exposed as I step out into the open space. Luckily, with all the crowds moving in their streams towards the ship I do not look out of place, but if I do not join their groups I figure it would be suspicious to the eyes viewing. I take as fast and steady steps as my weakened body allows me, heading towards the crowds. The people remain quieter than during the day, but the mood is lifted, secretive, and hopeful. It gives me strength and I stride forward in my path.

As the gap closes between the ship and I, an uneasy stirring begins up in my stomach and my heart soon joins the caravan. I observe as people go up to the boarding platform rising to the deck of the ship, and there take a box and turn to go. I feel my heart speed as I realize I would most certainly not be able to carry one of the boxes with my frailty, and wonder what I am to do when I get there. The line progresses quickly, like water running downstream, and soon I am near the front. I hesitate and look about me for someone I know but there is no one. I step forward as the people do. I gaze out of the range close to me and try to find someone out farther away.

Sir Marren.

He stands near the bottom of the platform overseeing the people taking the boxes as men transport the heavy loads. I swerve to the side and look desperately for an escape route, but there is none. I am surrounded. People murmur that this is an only one way line, and I am forced to turn or else draw attention to myself. My throat tightens as I feel my stupidity being put on display.
Of course they would be here…how could I not have thought of that?

It is my turn amongst a few others. I quickly brush past some men who take the boxes instead and then race outside the line…but not before I glimpse Sir Marren’s eyes watching me with speculation. I hurry past, but as I do I have to slow as dizziness overwhelms me. I am forced to stop and am pushed back into the line. I protest but am unheard as I find myself at the front of the group. This time, there is no escaping Sir Marren. I duck, trying to hide myself as I bend to pretend to lift a box, but as the man who had brought it looks up, our eyes lock and a shiver passes through my veins. The remainder of our gaze is my fault.

“Lyra...?” The dark eyes looking into mine widen in shock.

I cannot respond.

“It is Lyra…” he breathes it as though confirming it to others.

I shake my head.

“Lyra, no,” he is firm and his voice rises now, causing some heads to turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar pair of brown eyes turn to me.
Sir Marren’s.

I draw back and mean to break into a run, but Zenith is on me. I sob out, begging him, but he does not understand and catches me by the hands as though regaining a lost friend. I weaken as my head spins from the stress of the moment and have to let him support me.

“Lyra…” he speaks to me affectionately, like he didn’t think I had forgotten. “Lyra, you were gone so long…”

I try to step back, but he catches me back and draws me against him. “Zenith!” I sob.

He holds me tenderly and I feel odd and unsuitable in his arms; the fitting of his body against mine is awkward and not appropriate to me. I weaken and curse the knowledge of him once being close to me which causes this weakness.

“I thought I had lost you…where did you hide? Lyra, we missed the date when…”

I pull back a little and he frowns in surprise. “Zen, I am not well…”

I am too late. Sir Marren it upon us. I suddenly wish nothing but to be close to Zenith, where I can at least not be harmed. I stop pulling back and let my old companion hold me, guilt and fear rising in my heart and making me want to vanish. Sir Marren steps in beside us and Zenith and I don’t let go. I look to him in trepidation of what would become of me, but Zenith does not look away from me when he knows it is just Marren.

“She is found,” Marren says it lowly and firmly, but sounds as though eased of something.

I feel Zenith’s heart thumping gently through his clothes, and both wish to pull free and stay near to him as Marren is the alternative.

He sighs. “Found by the right hands, I see.”

I feel anger waver my fear as I understand his meaning.
If he thinks I am happy to be in Zenith’s embrace and that I have changed my love for Nadeje he is wrong.

“Zenith, take her to see her vader. It is my understanding that further interactions between you both must be first accepted by his lordship…” he eyes the space between us shadily. “Go on.”

Zenith’s hands loosen on my waist and brush gently down my body. It causes unwanted shivers to run through me and I wish more than anything to have control over my body. As soon as he has let me go I bow my head and look at the ground. He takes me by the arm and much too carefully urges me to follow him up the platform. I resent it and wish to beg him to hear me out, but Sir Marren is too close for me to believe in my freedom. I glance out to my right in hopes of there being a possible escape but there is none. I still look. My eyes cross the crowd to find any familiar face, but even as I do, I do not find the one I need. A shape wanders stealthily through the shadows below us but I am given no time to tie its detail to a person. I am at the top on the boat and all at the bottom of the platform I climbed is now lost to me.

I turn my gaze to the commotion upon the boat and find it wilder then imagined. Sailors and armed men both carry aside boxes from a neatly piled heap of them at the center of the ship. Some men are dealing with the sails and tying up ropes from their journey. I keep my eye level at the deck as we near the busiest part of the place as to not start up a headache again.

“Come.” Zenith gently directs me to follow him.

I see no other way out of this, so I do obediently. We cross the wooden boards of the floor until we come across the trap door leading down to the bottom deck. Here he lets me go for not more than necessary, then gently takes my arm again and leads me closer.

“Do you wish me to follow or guide you?” His offers are both desirable.

I glace down into the dark drop to the lower ground. “Guide,” I request softly.

He takes a half second longer than needed to move and when he does he moves gracefully. Stepping down into the dark, he slides his foot into one of the hidden crevices. When balanced a few steps down and I have watched him do this with close observation, he reaches up for me. I hesitate realizing he would be below my skirts which would mean…I halfheartedly let him take my hand in his and crouch down in a most unladylike manner. I step down into the hollow square and almost slip down on the first try.