Tears of Leyden (5 page)

I look up and reach to take the spoon from the table, toying with it in my lap. “How do you suppose he will not come here?”

He shook his head. “No,” he directs me through my mistake of interpretation. “He cannot. If it is not implied for him to do so by the King, which I don’t understand why it would be, then he will not. His reputation is far more valuable than his other…engagements in life.”

I set the spoon in my lap and look up. “He saw you take me…if he knows I am staying…”

He shakes his head. “He will not dare to unless ordered.”

I swallow. “Could there be a possibility of him coming…if you are his soldier-man then…”

He shakes his head. “No. I may be that by rank, but not by heart.”

I am interested. “Why not?”

His face darkens. “May I direct this conversation elsewhere?”

I look at him. “Must you?”

He gives me a grave look and I rethink my action.

“Where is your family?” I decide.

He looks away and I realize this was not a good subject either.

“I’m sorry…”

He looks up and that same understanding link crosses between us. For some reason, this hints to me that I should know why he does not want to speak of his Commander or family.

“You ask the questions…”

He shakes his head assuredly. “No, it is alright, just let me think of how to put this…I…” he sighs out with a closed mouth as though frustrated with himself.

I wait and feel resentful towards my patients for him already.

“I lost my way one night on the way to the doctors…my sister had told me she had not felt well earlier…but when we got home from a…trip…she started to vomit.”

I feel my stomach churn and twist out of pain from another’s suffering.

“I did not know what to do…so I asked my neighbors to watch over her while I went to get help…all was going as planned until…” he sighs. “I got lost…it took some time before I actually reached the doctor’s house…he left immediately, but the trip to his home alone had been 14 miles and my horse needed rest…so I had to stay back and wait.”

I feel pity reach its brim as he looks down at the table’s smooth surface.

“I left as soon as I could…but when I arrived home the next morning…the doctor said he’d found the neighbors and…” He takes in a deep breath, and then lets it all out. “He found the neighbors not near Carmela and she was…gone.”

I understand. “Is that why you hate him…he was the neighbor?”

He looks up, his eyes full of loss. “No…it was for walking in on us with his army and not showing any mercy on those who would not join…by that time I had been hard and unsettled…and when they barged in…I had no reason or holdbacks. I could only think of my loss and how much I wanted to do something to…stop it. Carmela not being there to be taken care of…I went.”

I look at him pitifully. “I’m sorry…” I look him deep in the eyes and oddly enough venture further, he watches me somewhat desolately. I look back down at my hands. I begin to feel the spoon again, tracing down the gracefully carved metal work a little more nervously.

“Don’t be. You had nothing to do with the matter until now.”

I look up and find his eyes still on me. I look away as my stomach starts to churn and quench. “He won’t come here?”

His eyes are softened by this question and I cannot help but wonder if I look anything like his sister. “No,” he responds.

I brush the loose and tangled hairs a little away and his lips crack a tiny almost unnoticeable smile. It almost half-secondly disappears.

I ignore it as well as the fluttering in my chest. “Do you happen to have a washbasin?”

He raises his brows in surprise. “Had you?”

I know that most riches here in Leyden are not permitted for the poorer, but vader had been conservatively wealthy, and after yesterday I feel that a bath might help me cleanse my mental health as well as my physical health.

“My vader owned one…” I look down realizing that I was telling some of my history to someone I barely know, but thinking of his telling of his sister, find that it must be not too robust to speak of my life’s few joys.

He leans his head to his hand and runs his fingers through his hair. “Hmm…” He sighs out a response.

I wish to be away from his sorrow and my own, to cleanse it from my skin at least, if not my brain. A bath should be able to do that.

“Have you one?” It is small.

He laughs lightly into his hand and unburies his face to look at me. “For one so used to living in such states, you ask much of one who is unused to such.”

I feel my face heat and wish I was not so soft. “You have not one?”

He sighs. “It’s in my room…it has not been filled today, but it can be.”

I swallow. “I am grateful.”

His face reflects the expression of one not so judgmental, but still curious. “We are in need of better acquaintance…but for now, I would like to let you use some of my utilities.”

He smiles kindly and I force my eyes away, shying and dropping my gaze. It shifts something inside me, his smile, whether for good or bad I don’t know. Thankfully, I don’t have time to spend on it. “Come.”

Chapter 5

He left me here a while ago, but I still hear his footsteps fading. I wait and listen for any sound of footsteps close to the doorway.
Nothing.
I hesitantly slip out of my light dress and slips. The fabric gently brushes down my skin as I let it fall to the dusty floor. I lightly step to the rim of the tub. I wait and listen again, regretting this completely.

Still not hearing anything outside the door, I dip my foot into the water in the tub. It is lukewarm. Most I’d ever experienced were ice cold and not so pleasurable. I am trembling so hard I know I must stop it before I leave the tub altogether. I listen again, praying, hoping and begging the universe not to let my feminine disadvantage of not knowing how to protect myself be put to trial. I slowly slide into the water. Almost immediately, my shaking limbs stop their nervous tremble in the warm liquid.

I wait for something to happen, for the door to fly open and his beastly figure to take away my one last possession. No response comes to the sound of swishing water in the tub. I relax, relief flushing through me. Sinking a little bit farther, I let myself go.

I run the water over my skin, dunking my head and then leaning back to enjoy the moment of warmth and floatation. I cannot help but stray my mind further from here to the bases where moeder and little Meleiya could be. Wretchedness overwhelms me and the water threatens to feel cold. I slowly start to sit up a little. Holding back the tears I swallow the sore lump in my throat. Hoping to cleanse my mind as well as my body, I reach for the soap he left for me and begin to scrub. The soap is scentless and I suspect it to be the Sweet soap made in Europe.

The soap made at home was sickening and smelt awful. Often though, when I was little and went to spend a day with a friend and there was an insistence upon bathing after we played outside, there was no soap in their house. Now that I am older, I wonder if my friends still didn’t have soap. Vader afforded soap well, and I was never at a lack of it more than once or twice that I can remember. He almost made it a have-to for us to have, use, and buy soap. I never understood it, but I knew he had his reasons.

I rinse the water over my skin and dunk again to get out the soap from my hair and shoulders. I cup the water and let it pour down my face, washing away the rest of the oily gleam of the disinfectant. I shift positions and sit up from reclining against the frame of the tub. I twist my hair, and then lift the soak up robe from its place on the chest. With less caution than before, I stand and wipe down my face and shoulders. I pull it around me and shiver in the air, then slowly lift my feet out of the water and set them back down, tingling, onto the stable ground. I wipe down my legs and find that my hair is nearly dry. Wrapping the robe around me, I steal to the dress Nadeje had left for me.

It is delicate yet heavy in a plain grey fashion, with several ruffles at the bottom hem. It has a bodice folded neatly inside, attached to the kirtle, and I, unused to such a thing, wonder at how I am supposed to get into it on my own. I slip the chemise around me, and the kirtle next, starting to lace it up. I am surprised how they don’t use corsets with kirtles, instead of bodices, as I thought it was the new fashion. I suppose that Nadeje possibly was not one of the wealthier ranks as to have his sister wear something as harsh as a corset. Also, there is no unattached bodice, which is generally worn over the kirtle and the over dress, but over an attached bodice, I suppose it would have no purpose apart from light breath to the wearer. I sigh out in irritation and realize I have tied the laces wrong and must undo the strings. When I am finally done, it is slightly out of proportion, but if I could I would give myself a clap on the back for it as I can still breathe and feel no constriction in areas I shouldn’t.

I find myself looking for something only Dutch seamstresses use, and annoyed with my foolishness I take to the dress and slip it over my head. It is heavy to hold, difficult to fit my arms through and extremely scratchy at the skirt. It fits a little snug at the waist, and I assume that is how a European garment is supposed to make you feel. It is exact around height and length of the skirt though. I have heard Spanish women wear their dresses in flair to cover their whole body to keep it under guard or style. In this heavy material about the legs and the waist and the kirtle with the attached bodice, I give them that fully.

I step back and look out the window and realize I had been before it as I’d bathed.
Was I that senseless?
God forbid anyone saw me through the glass.
No
…it was only the market. Everyone rushed past…plus the bath was so large it showed nothing of its cleanser. Also, his curtains were partly untied.

I leak out a shaky breath and fold my towel. I set it and my dirtied dress on the board in his shelf he left open for me. With a more relaxed condition but still a little rigidness, I step towards the wooden door.

Chapter 6

I look around a bit, viewing his collection of the usual necessities in a home. It is rather empty, showing the newness of his stay here. The kitchen was hardly anything apart from the stove, a pitcher of water, and a trap door leading into the small storage which holds something unknown. It is attached to the bare entry room, and the dinner table sat in nothing but a small nine foot way to his bedroom. It is cleaner in the hallway, and dustily tiled in his room, suggesting that he spends more time in the dining room than anywhere else. The living room has a dirt floor and a tall shelf stacked with what looks like maps, atlases, and few books. The kitchen cupboard is empty accept for four cups, a few plates and bowls, and some drying silverware lies on a kitchen towel on the table.

When finished with eyeing my surroundings, I take recognition of the small door leading out to the central market and streets. I find myself alone, and slowly gravitate towards the comforting sounds of the outer streets during market hours. The door is splintered on one side and has been left a little small for the frame, leaving it so that I can just barely see the shadows of people and wagons passing through the open slivers. I arrive softly and breathlessly at the door, trying to control my breathing and stampeding heart even though I know it will continue on.

Could I escape?
I lightly put my hands to the door’s rough wood.
Would he notice my leave?
I put my ear to the door and listen
…oh the sweet sounds of freedom outdoors! How I wish I could just…
I press my hands to it and find it unlocked. I grow anxious again and my heart goes wild.
I can do this…I must… this is my last chance.
I move my hand to the knob and start to ever so quietly turn it…then, it all ends too soon.

“What are you doing?”

I whirl in his direction, leaving the still unopened door to rest.

He stands there, watching from his station of calm with gentility and no alarm whatsoever. I do not move, afraid of what harm he might cause me if I am found guilty. I keep my heart under check and trying not to give in to its pace, I listen and count its beats. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6…

“Lyra,” he says it softly but firmly, in a way no one has ever managed the tempered calmness of their voice before me.

I look up and find his eyes ever so gentle yet stormy, worried, but the storm within them is not a cold one, but one which is humid and yet still windy and causes the waves upon the shore to rise up and down like crowds at an execution…one that causes the hairs at my spine to rise and my insides to unwillingly churn and tremble. I watch his features, the well-shaped jaw and the dark hair. I cannot seem to open my mouth.
I should not feel guilty for my disloyalty…or should I?

I look up into his eyes and stop. He is watching me expressionlessly, as though trying to recognize my mood and place. I shift a little, feeling cornered. He does not react to my silence, but just swallows mannerly. I suddenly cannot stand my compression and wish more than anything not to be here, with him just standing and staring at me. I back up and reach for the door knob but he straightens and is alerted to my movements.

“Do not try it…”

I stop and shrink back a little, cursing my obedience. Even as I flinch, I know I had no reason to, for his voice had remained temperate.

There is a moment of silence, then he sighs and steps back a little, becoming aware of my discomfort.

“Miss Thimlet,” he finishes softly.

I hesitantly look up at him and my heart relieves itself with the comfort of my proper name.

He watches me quietly before he once again breaks the silence. “I want to help you,” it is gentle, and unlikable for me to think of when comparing him to an enemy. He says no more, and I wish to say less.

“Well you can’t,” it is soft and not meant to be cold.

His expression is of one who is concerned. I don’t understand it. “What could help you?”

I feel a lump form in my throat and it is hard to think as the word engraves itself in the walls of my head.
Family.
It stings inside and leaves little pains in my heart. After it clears a little I manage.

“To know of them.”

He watches me and I can see him considering what I am saying. Finally he gets to the root of my meaning and understands. I can’t help but feel gratitude for his wisdom, making him not have to inquire further, past the basics to the parts that kill my heart.

“You wish me to…and I promised that. I promise again, but let me know if there is more that we can do before we receive what it is you wish to hear.”

I try to think of anything apart from news that they are okay, that they are safer than myself, or at least only out casted to a different dwelling, but it all comes down to nothing.

“I don’t think I can find anything right now that I…would…” I stop, my head feeling fatigued and pain beginning to dully thud in the back of it.

He seems to notice my tire. “Just let me know.”

A moment passes by while I hear the sounds softening in the market behind, and I realize it must be close to evening already. My stomach grumbles emptily, but I put it to the back of my mind with the thoughts of Meleiya and Moeder still drifting through my head. I wait, not sure of what to do.

He seems to notice. He stands more upright and then speaks. “Do you wish to sleep within my quarters?”

I pale.

He quickly mends it. “Of course I would bed out within the other rooms, but the bed will be perhaps more stabling for your ease of conscious…and the door.”

I feel reality bleed and pour back into my circulation and grow tired from the momentary exercise of my relief and panic.

“I…do not wish you to be removed from your territory…”

He looks past me, as though trying to see what I am saying. “Territory?” he is calm, but seems curious. “You call it such?”

I let out a shaky breath and try to ease my mind into a calmer way of thinking, but I am suddenly feeling much drained, yet not sleepy. I shake my head and pinch the top of my nose with my hand.

“Please take your quarters,” I step back a little as I accidentally totter onto my heels.

He seemed to take actions louder than words. “You are tired,” he observes softly to me. “Come. Let me settle you and then I shall sleep elsewhere.”

I look up at him and feel my shoulders weighing me down. Not knowing what else to say, I blandly taste my mouth. “Thank you.”