Dark Age (26 page)

“Girl, I spare your life in the name of the Inquisition. To cleanse your soul you shall join the convent and live a sedentary life away from sin,” he raised his hand for her to kiss the holy signet ring.

Quietly she muttered something. Everyone hushed to hear her.

“What did you say?” the Inquisitor asked.

“Go to hell,” she said and spit on his ring.

Consumed by anger, he turned around, grabbed the torch from the executioner’s hand and dropped it on the dry hay at the foot of the stake. In a blaze the stake lit up and her screams filled the air.

I punched my way to the front. There was pain in my leg, but it was nothing compared to what my eyes saw. I was mere feet from her. My hands clenched the fence, ready to jump over onto her side. Forcefully a guard pushed me into the crowd. Another held me back. I struggled against their power.

There was no control, for I had lost it. My body shook and as much as I wanted to scream the air just would not fill my lungs. Her eyes met mine in between the shimmering flames that so ruthlessly licked on her soft skin. Fire, the damned gift of the gods.

Her screams burned as harshly in my ears as the flames on her skin. With hands covering my ears, I tried to block out the violent noise that dug into my heart like a dagger. As much as it muffled the sound I could not help but realize that her screams formed my name.

Chapter 34

T
he drunken screams
of the people rang through the air as my eyes fixated on the flickering flame of a candle. Around me the richest men of the city celebrated my impending wedding in a festive hall inside the mansion. I gave them my physical attendance, but my mind was somewhere else. Every time I saw a fire or flame, my body froze and once again presented me with the image and pain of the execution. It did not feel real. Reality itself seemed farfetched. I did not know whether it was losing my love or the fact that I was becoming a part of the Inquisitor’s family, but everything withing me repulsed the idea that I was not dreaming.

Cecilia sat at my side at the end of the long table. Lightly she squeezed my hand helping me return to the present. I looked at her and smiled faintly.

“Adam?” asked a man at my side.

Confused I shook my head and asked what he wanted.

“I was asking if you could tell me about that eventful adventure in the mines, I’ve heard so much about your bravery.”

With subliminal disdain I recounted the lies we had agreed upon to be the truth. It had turned into a routine, as I not only knew the storyline, but already anticipated the questions they would ask.

The night carried on, and the men got more drunk and jolly by the hour. In contrast I grew more sober and pensive by the minute.

Cecilia must have noticed and leaned in close to my ear, “I hate this festival. Let’s get out of here.”

“Can we just leave?” I asked.

“We are getting married tomorrow. They expect us to disappear together.”

With a quick glance around the room, I got up and followed her closely. Her hand gently supported my back, making my way up the stairs easier. It was a foreign touch, and while I appreciated her kindness and devotion she simply was not the person I wanted to hold in my arms.

“Here we are,” she said opening the door to her chambers. A fine rose scent lay in the candle lit room, reminding me even more of the girl I had lost. Outside, the rain was pouring like hail against the stone. Lightning struck across the horizon momentarily and vanished to the booming noise of thunder.

“I know you do not want this wedding,” she said. “And I know you do not want me.”

I opened my mouth wanting to comfort her and tell her that she was wrong but she raised her hand.

“I know I am not her, and never will be. She was good with the common people, while I have never even left this mansion. She was driven by goodwill, while I am driven by knowledge which causes my own arrogance. Just know that I am truly sorry for all that has happened. All I ask for is that you do not hate me.”

I stepped forward and took her in my arms. She deserved better, I thought. As I held her I could feel her body both tensing and relaxing at the same time. Her face pressed against the side of my neck. Warmth emerged in her until she almost felt hot.

Slowly she took a step back with her hands still grasping my sides. Her eyes had a glossy taint. The corners of her mouth slowly lifted. It caught me by surprise to see her so overwhelmed by my little gesture. I realized that nobody had ever held her.

The spark that already existed inside her had turned into a wild fire. I had given her far more than comfort.

Slowly she stepped closer to me. I knew what she was about to do. But had I pushed her away at this point I would have broken her heart. It was obvious that she had not lived outside the mansion. Her approach was packed with uncertainty. With delicate care she laid her hand on my cheek, all the while her eyes almost seemed to flicker. Observing her was magical. She looked at me with such devotion and tenderness. To her I was not just a commoner. To her I was a king.

My empathy was short lived. The moment her lips touched mine, the fire inside me began to burn again. With a small but powerful shove I pushed her away from me.

I wanted to explain myself but all I felt was disgust. Quickly I opened the door and hobbled down the stairs. With every step I could hear her sobs grow louder, until she slammed the door shut.

I pushed myself through the red corridor with closed eyes, as the torches and the color reminded me of my darkest day with every step. Without a word to the guards I rushed outside into the pouring rain.

The cold wet drops encompassed me like a coat. My hair was soaked, my clothes were drenched, and my boots filled with water. The rain was so cold that it felt like needles of ice dropping onto my skin. By the time I left the terracotta boulevard behind me my teeth chattered violently. There was no one out. I did not care if the night guards were to catch me. All I cared for was to once more relive my own past and find shelter in my memories.

Through the square I cut straight from the Merchant District to the Temple District. With every step the big church loomed higher above, giving the impression that the Mount distanced itself further from me the closer I came. I tried to find foothold on the slippery ground. The mud around the fundament of the church had turned into pools of dirt. With a deep breath I put my hands on the ledge I had always used to start my climb up the Mount. My muscles contracted. All power ran into my legs as I jumped onto the ledge. A strain in my shoulder spread like wildfire originating at the point the bolt had hit me. My feet landed, and a shockwave of pain ran through my injured leg. Too much weight pressed down upon it at once. Before I could grab a gargoyle’s head for support I lost my balance. With my back first I fell down to the ground, seeing nothing but the stars. Orion was nowhere to be found.

With a loud thud and splash I crashed into the pool of mud. The dirt covered me from head to toe, all the while my muscles felt unresponsive. I screamed so loud that I could not make out what I said myself. And with that scream I let go of the past, the future, and the dream that had still resided within me.

Wounded I found my cane in the mud and pushed myself onto my feet. Without looking back I strode to the mansion, while the rain washed off the dirt. I no longer felt wounded, but vulnerable, with no perception but the biting cold.

The moment I entered the red corridor Cecilia awaited me with a large towel. Despite my earlier behavior she took care of me immediately. It was apparent that she was more worried about my wellbeing than her own feelings. With a supportive hand she led me back up the stairs, all the while drying me off. We passed the level of the festival hall, in which the men were still celebrating. After a short break we continued upstairs towards her chambers.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, “or you’ll be sick tomorrow.”

Uncomfortably I took off my shirt dripping water all over the wooden floor.

“You can sleep in the bed,” she said grabbing a pillow, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be silly, the bed is large enough for the two of us. I used to share a bed not even half the size with my brother when I was younger.” I added, “After all we will be married tomorrow.”

She seemed anxious at the idea, “If you say so.”

With nothing but the towel wrapped around me I climbed into the bed. It must have been the most comfortable experience of my life. My limbs sunk lightly into what she called a mattress, a large whole body cushion. Never before had I had the opportunity to sleep on one of these. Compared to the cottage in the Guard, my wooden bed had always seemed luxurious.

Cecilia sat on the side of the bed and blew out her night candle. With no more than the moonlight, I could see just her outlines as she changed from her silver dress into her night gown. Quietly she climbed into the bed leaving half an arm’s length of space in between us.

I realized that my earlier behavior had scarred her. She kept a safe distance, just so she would not be misled again, and would not have to feel the pain of rejection. Despite her harsh opinions on much of the population, and general naivety, she always treated me well, no matter what I did to her. She seemed so preoccupied with my approval that I could no longer stand torturing her with my distance.

“I am sorry for my reaction earlier,” I said. “It’s just that things have happened so fast. Give me some time, and don’t be too hard on yourself. After all that has happened in my last ten years, maybe there is some hope for us. Maybe together we can finally find peace and bring some light into this dark hole.”

She inched her way closer to me and rested her head on my chest. “Thank you,” she whispered and fell asleep shortly after.

Dawn drew close. Cecilia and I sat upright in her bed. It seemed quite surreal that we were to get married that afternoon. We could already hear the servants decorate and set up the square for a celebration unprecedented in size and grandeur.

“What exactly do we do when we are married,” she asked.

“Take walks, read books and grow old. I think that’s what old married couples do,” I said.

“I’ve never been outside the mansion,” she said looking at me with a hint of unease. “I am scared of the wedding; I’ve never been this close to the commoners.”

Part of me was surprised; part of me expected those words to come out of her mouth. “Let’s go then,” I said taking her by the hand. “We will picnic out there.”

As I moved to get up, she pulled me back, “I can’t just leave!”

“I’ll be right at your side,” I said standing up with the help of my cane. “You can’t stay in here forever.”

She gave in and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready. I put on my clothes, and told Anthony to prepare some fresh groceries in a basket. Even after I had gathered everything, Cecilia was still getting ready. Her dress was borderline pretentious. I still needed to get used to the fact that we were expected to look pompous. After all we were part of the Inquisitor’s family, the chosen ones.

We headed down the stairs toward the corridor with the basket in her right hand. Our arms were interlocked, presenting ourselves like the couple we were supposed to be. The closer we drew to the door the slower her feet moved. A guard opened the door for us and with a firm tug I pulled her outside. For part of a second she looked frightened until she realized that absolutely nothing would happen to her. With a new pride and self-confidence she strut down the terracotta boulevard at my side. Many merchants greeted us, bowing down the moment they caught glimpse of the ward. Our presence did not escape anyone’s eyes.

“Where are we going?” she asked the moment we left the Merchant District. “I liked it here, everything was so pretty and the people were so proper and well-mannered.”

“It’s a surprise. I want to show you something,” I said and led her through the outskirts of the Craftsman District.

With every step the road grew dirtier and the buildings were more rundown. At last we reached the Industrial District. Tense, Cecilia lifted her dress so the hem would not drag on the ground. She pressed her body closer against me, frightened by the simple people in their rags that roamed the streets.

The smelter loomed ahead of us with its radiating heat.

“This must be the worst picnic ever,” she murmured.

“We were never going to eat it ourselves,” I said.

Confused she looked at me as I knocked on the door. It opened slightly but no one was there. After a moment I realized that the little boy, Seth, stood below our sight.

I got on my knees, and looked at him. His deep blue eyes were reflecting the rising sun. The distrust I had faced before still remained.

“Give the little boy the basket,” I said.

“I’m not little,” he objected.

“But what about breakfast,” Cecilia joined in objecting.

“He needs it more than us.”

“I can’t take things from strangers,” he mumbled and started closing the door. His mother came and pushed the boy aside. Tears were running down her face the moment she saw me.

“I am sorry about Robert,” I whispered as she fell into my arms.

“I am sorry about Katrina,” she said. “With all that has happened to you, I’d bet the lives of my children that you are cursed. The best always have to suffer the most.” She looked at Cecilia and said in a low voice, “the greatest curse still awaits you.”

Carefully I removed myself from her and placed my hand on Cecilia’s back. “Sometimes we mistake the good for the bad. We project so much evil onto them, that they have no chance but to become what we think of them. It takes acceptance despite all prior judgments to see a person’s true character.”