by Adam Carter
“Of course, dear,” Sister Ariel said. “Won’t you come with me? We can begin the confession process and have your soul cleansed in no time.”
This had not been a part of the plan and Hart could see Arowana and Hawthorn furiously trying to think of an argument which would get them back on track. If Wraith was still alive, there would be an opportunity to free him later. At that moment the best thing Hart could do would be to follow Sister Ariel and confess her sins.
“Please lead the way,” she said. “In the meantime I would like to apologise to Mr Hawthorn and Miss Arowana for the trouble I caused during my arrest. If I might at some point be able to also apologise to Mr Wraith, that would, I feel, go some way to cleansing my soul.”
“That’s a very good start,” Sister Ariel said. “It’ll gain you points at the Pearly Gates.”
“Wait, wait,” Hawthorn said. “We should go see Wraith first, together.”
“Certainly,” Ariel said. “You do that while I take Miss Hart off for confession.”
“No, I meant all of us should go together.”
“Why? Why would you want to take a prisoner to see Wraith?”
“Like she said, so she can apologise.”
“Confession comes before apology. First Miss Hart has to fully understand what she’s done wrong.”
“No, we need to go now.”
Hart took Hawthorn’s hand in her own, which was a little difficult since her hands were bound before her. He was flustered, panicked, his face was turning red in a defeat he would not accept, and Hart smiled. “It’s all right, Mr Hawthorn,” she said, her voice smaller than she had intended. “You go see your friend, get all this sorted. Everything’s working out as we wanted. Wraith is still alive, so you have a chance to leave Themisto with him and continue wandering through space. Things can go right back to the way they used to be for you.”
“Beth, they’ll kill you.”
“You odd, caring man,” she said with a shake of her head, “haven’t you realised yet that’s what I want?”
She released his hand and turned back to Sister Ariel. Hawthorn said nothing, although Hart saw Arowana place a hand upon his shoulder. There was nothing now either of them could do for Hart, but perhaps that was for the best. Hart was not a part of their family – her family were pirates and she despised them. If she could at least put the crew of the Jupiter’s Glory back together she would consider her life worth having been lived.
Ariel led her into one of the massive stone buildings. Hart had never before been inside a castle and the experience left her a little daunted. That it was also a church was not lost on her, for the trappings of Christianity hung on curtains all about. She felt strangely calm as she walked the cold corridors, pieces of her youth returning fragmented to her memory. They were happier times and if they were the final thoughts she was going to have she was hardly about to complain.
They reached a large room filled with pews, at the end of which stood an altar and a pulpit. Huge stained-glass windows allowed the light of God to filter through the multi-coloured images of various saints. Every effort had been made to make the place resemble a church found anywhere else throughout history and Hart found herself relaxing.
“Please,” Ariel said, motioning towards a booth. There were two, side-by-side, and Hart was familiar with the concept. Entering one of the booths, Hart found it was a tight cubicle which contained nothing but a small hard bench. The wall to her left held a gauze covering, through which she would be able to speak with Sister Ariel. The anonymity factor would be reduced to zero since they knew full well who one another were, but the principle for confession had to remain constant so all could be judged equally in the house of God.
Or, at least, that was what Hart assumed.
A sound beside her indicated that Sister Ariel had taken her own seat and was getting comfortable. “Now,” Ariel said, “you are here to confess your sins, child. Please state your full name.”
“Bethany Eleanor Hart. Isn’t confession supposed to be confidential?”
“Confidential? Confession is a business transaction, child. A very serious one at that.”
“Why the gauze covering on the wall, then?”
“Tradition. Do you know why women wear veils at funerals?”
“Uh, no.”
“Because in olden times they were afraid their loved one would return as a vampire and hunt down any woman he saw at the funeral. The veil was a means of protecting women from their deceased relatives.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Many of the traditions we cling to today no longer have meaning, but we do them anyway. But we’re not here to talk about vampires, we’re here to talk about you. Unless you’re a vampire?”
“Is that church humour?”
“No. If I was going for church humour I’d remind you that once this is done with we’re going to stake you out, Hart. You know, stake through the heart?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Hart shuddered. She had never imagined confession was going to be this weird.
“Tell me about your childhood,” Ariel said.
“My childhood? What is this, therapy?”
“After a fashion. Were you religious?”
“My parents were. I guess I was, or at least I tried to be. I attended church, I read the Bible, I did everything the church asked of me. One time I even baked cakes to sell at the fayre to help pay for a new roof, but they asked me not to do that again.”
“Then you would consider yourself as having been a good member of your religious society?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you tried, you say.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you try?”
Hart thought about that, wondered why it mattered. “It was important to my parents. I did what they wanted me to do, all kids do.”
“Yet you did not yourself believe?”
“I didn’t not believe. I … There are some things I found myself at odds with. I had too many questions.”
“Questions are good.”
“Are you for real? Religion’s all about telling people what to do.”
“What questions did you have?”
Hart felt uncomfortable. She wished they would just get on with crucifying her.
“Seriously,” Ariel said. “There were sections of the Bible you didn’t agree with, I assume.”
“The whole creation thing, for one,” Hart said without thinking. “I mean, did God literally create all those things in so short a period?”
“I’ve heard that question more than you’d know. Some people believe it literally, others feel each ‘day’ could cover a wider period. After all, who’s to say how long the first day lasted? God created the second day by separating the light and dark, and who’s to say how long He took doing that?”
Hart digested that. “And why did He have to rest on the seventh day? How could God get worn out?”
“No one ever said He was worn out, only that He rested. Maybe He wanted to take an entire day to look over the many wondrous things He had created during those six days.”
Hart digested that as well. “All right, God created Adam and Eve and they had Cain and Able. Cain kills Able and at first God doesn’t know because He asks Cain where his brother is. That could have been a test, I suppose, but when God finds out He banishes Cain to the land of Nod and brands him so no one will hurt him. Where’s the land of Nod and how does it fit into the Garden of Eden? Surely this means we’re not all descended from Adam and Eve.”
“How long has that question been worrying you, child?”
“It doesn’t worry me, I’m just curious.”
“Would it help to remind you that God later flooded the Earth and drowned everyone aside from Noah and his family, so the land of Nod became irrelevant?”
“Wow, the church really does have an answer for everything.”
Ariel paused. “From listening to you, child, it seems to me you’ve lost your faith. That i
s the fault of the church. Your faith was never strong to begin with and instead of nurturing it the church left you wallowing in indecision. Your priest failed you, Miss Hart, and for that I apologise.”
“I have to admit, this confession’s not going the way I expected.”
“How so?”
“Not only are you answering my questions, you’re presenting a balanced argument. I thought the church condemned people like me to Hell and were done with it.”
“Condemnation is a final resort, and never something one human could do to another. I do not judge you, child, for I am like you. We are both human beings, both women, and we can but help one another while on this mortal plane.”
“I wish you were my priest back home.”
“As do I, child. Now, tell me about how you became a pirate.”
“I was kidnapped.”
“Then you are a victim.”
“I’ve killed people.”
“Then you are a pirate. In the olden days, many sailors were conscripted by taking the king’s shilling. They were no less sailors because they were targeted by press gangs.”
“Then you agree I’m a monster.”
“Yes.”
Hart’s body sagged. Even though she had told herself that same answer time and again, it was difficult to hear it from a member of the church. “I used to refuse,” she said, staring at her feet in the dark booth. “For a while, I wouldn’t do anything they wanted. Sturgeon beat me, savagely and relentlessly. He’d lock me in a chest for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours where I couldn’t eat or drink anything. By the end I stank of sweat and my own urine. Eventually I couldn’t take it any more so I’d do some of the things I was asked. Nothing major. Pilot the ship, plot courses. Nothing which directly hurt anyone. Any time I’d refuse the slightest command, I’d be beaten or locked away, or worse.
“Then, one day, we came upon a victim. Sturgeon had already rendered them dead in the water and he wanted me to finish them off. I agreed, but when I sat at that console I broadcast a signal on every frequency, declaring ourselves a pirate vessel. We fled before the police could arrive. I saved the victim, but that night Sturgeon pulled three teeth from me.
“So one day, when I was asked to fire the disabling missile myself, I did it. I still remember that day, but it was as though someone else was doing it in my body. I cried for days after that, knowing I was the one who fired the crippling shot which allowed Sturgeon to go over and massacre the crew. After I was done crying I dried my eyes and never cried again.
“I haven’t cried since. I’ve lived my life as a pirate and I’ll die a pirate. So, if you want a confession, Sister Ariel, that’s it.”
Ariel reflected on this for some time. “I see,” she said at last. “So you admit your crimes, even though you were bullied and tortured into conducting them?”
“I am what I am, Sister.”
“It is good to know what you are. So many young people today don’t know what they’re doing with their lives, it’s refreshing to talk with someone whose mind is so clear.”
“I don’t want to be forgiven, Sister.”
“Oh, I’m not forgiving you. You’re a murderer and you’ll be executed for it. We just like to get a feel of the condemned, purely for the records, you understand.”
“Sister, am I just a statistic?”
“No, no, no. You’re not a statistic until you die.”
“This isn’t the church I was raised in.”
“No, dear. That one failed your soul, this one will save your soul and fail your body.”
“I …” Hart tried to consider which was better, but the experience was so surreal she could not find the appropriate words.
“It’ll get easier,” Ariel said. “Now, we’re done here, I think.”
The door to Hart’s booth opened and light spilled in. There was still so much Hart wanted to say, and she was confused as Ariel shoved some papers into her hands. “What’s this?”
“Read them over, sign and date. We don’t give you a copy to keep, purely because you’re going to be executed, you understand.”
Hart looked at the scrawled writing and failed to take any of it in. She was being asked to sign over her life, and while she had been fully prepared for this it was not what she had been expecting. This was not her church, this was not her religion.
She must have signed anyway because Ariel said, “Excellent,” and took the papers from her before guiding Hart out by the arm. “Now, we have a lovely cross for you. I know you’re going to adore it, dear.”
She chattered on but Hart failed to hear any more. She was going to die and felt terrible for it. She was going to die and for the first time in long years she wanted to live. Bethany Eleanor Hart wanted to live; but now it was too late. In her soul she was at last alive, at the precise moment she had been condemned to death.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Leaving Hart with the Themistonians was one of the most difficult things Hawthorn had ever done, but there was nothing he could do about it. Fighting the issue would only have got them all locked up, and when Arowana placed her hand upon his shoulder he knew it was her way of signalling to him that they had to continue with the plan. That Arowana would not be giving up on the girl was the only thing which allowed Hawthorn to accept the situation. If they could get Wraith out of his cell, Hawthorn still fully intended to swing by the church and pick up Hart. It would be difficult, because he knew she did not want to be saved, but he would throw a sack over her and drag her back to the sword-ship kicking and screaming if he had to. The young woman had suffered so much in her life already, she did not deserve to die as a pirate.
Father Dumah asked them whether they would like a cup of tea or something, but it was clear he did not want to speak to them. It was rather fortunate for all concerned that another robed figure that Hawthorn instantly recognised as Cassiel came bounding up and volunteered to take them down to the cells.
“I don’t know,” Dumah said, rubbing his chin. “You, child, are awfully eager to be alone with these naked savages. It would be a gross neglect of my own duties were I not to protect your soul from these heathen barbarians.”
“OK,” Cassiel said jovially. “I’ll go cleanse my soul through prayer, Father. You spend all day with them, showing them round.”
“All day? But they only want to see their fellow heathen in his cell.”
“Yes, Father; but what about after that? I’m sure that pirate girl has a lot of sins to confess. You could be with Miss Arowana and Mr Hawthorn for a looong time.”
Dumah spluttered. “Well, uh … I … have sermons to prepare. Perhaps, child, you would be good enough to watch over our guests for me while I tend to important ecclesiastic duties.”
“No problem, Father.”
Hawthorn could not believe what he was hearing, although said nothing until Father Dumah had hastened away. “That was amazing,” he said. “I’ve never seen a priest stop caring so suddenly about a young person’s soul being corrupted by heathen barbarians.”
Cassiel giggled. “Then you think I’m young?”
“Uh, aren’t you? You sound young.”
“Gosh, Mr Hawthorn, the robes are supposed to stop all of that. Naughty man, trying to pry my secrets from me.”
“I’m not trying to pry anything from you. I just …” He stopped when he noticed Arowana was glowering at him. “Uh, could you take us to Wraith, please?”
“For you, Gordy, anything.”
Hawthorn purposefully did not look at Arowana, but could feel her glower intensify on the back of his neck.
They walked silently for several minutes and entered the castle-like church. Cassiel knew the way well enough and happily greeted anyone she passed but otherwise said nothing. At last they arrived at the top of a stone stairwell and she said, “The cells are down here. How are you going to handle the gaolbreak?”
“Gaolbreak?” Hawthorn stammered. “We’re just here to see him.”
“I know you
told everyone that, but you know and I know and Miss Arowana knows that you intend to bust him out. Even Wraith knows.”
“How does Wraith know?”
“Because I told him.”
“You told him?”
“Yep. He’s all ready to go.”
Hawthorn looked to Arowana, who gave a slight shake of her head to indicate she did not like this either.
“Oh, it’s all right,” Cassiel said. “You can trust me, I only have your best interests at heart. You see, Father Dumah would crucify the lot of you if he could. It’s something he likes doing. Confession and crucifixion go together like a horse and carriage, so the song goes. Anyway, my point is he’s looking for an excuse to execute you all and the longer you hang around here the more of an excuse you’re giving him. So I bundled him up for you.”
“You bundled him up?”
“Well, you can’t walk around with him as he is, he’d draw attention. I got him some robes and stuff. No one could possibly recognise him now, which is the entire point of the robes. Stupidly, everyone always wears the same robes so everyone knows who everyone else is, but he’ll fool people from a distance, and so long as he doesn’t say much to people he’ll do fine. The robes will muffle his voice anyway, so this should be a doddle.”
Hawthorn was not convinced and Arowana scratched the back of her head but gave a little shrug. “Hey,” she said, “it’s better than any plan we haven’t come up with yet.”
“All right,” Hawthorn said. “Iris, you take Wraith back to the Glory and I’ll fetch Hart.”
“We should both go back,” Arowana said. “If people see Cassiel with only one of us they’ll get suspicious.”
“She’s right,” Cassiel said. “We all have to stay together on this, all the way. If you want to try to rescue the pirate later, I guess you could do so, but why would you want to?”
“Because she doesn’t deserve to die,” Arowana said.
“She’s a pirate.”
“She’s also a human being.”
From Cassiel’s body language it seemed as though she was going to say something else, but she discarded her argument and said, “You know best. Wait here, I’ll fetch Wraith.” Cassiel disappeared so quickly Hawthorn could almost suspect she was the wraith.