by Linda Mooney
“Yes! We are the survivors!” The hope in her voice was unmistakable.
Muam sighed. “As much as I would like to share your dream, my beloved, I cannot. I do not understand why we are here as children. I do not know why we became the people we have been in the past. But I do not believe this is our last life. I think this is just another body, and we shall meet our deaths soon.”
She gave a little sob. Pulling her back into his arms, he tried to soothe her as best he could. Rubbing his hands up and down her back, along her spine that stuck out underneath her skin.
“There is something else I thought of.”
“What is that?”
“Of all the people we have been, we have been there at the moment of their deaths.”
“Yes. So?”
“They were spared the agony of their own deaths. They did not have to suffer. They did not suffer, because we took that suffering for them.”
She slowly nodded. “Muam, I am weary of this. I am sick of waking up and knowing I will die again.” She hiccupped slightly and sniffed. Her warm tears soaked through his torn and dirty tunic. “If not for you, I would end my own life as soon as I awoke, and not wait for the Ancient Mother to decree it.”
“I feel the same way. I no longer care if anyone else knows what we are going through. But we cannot stop hoping this will all end…eventually.”
The sound of something scratching at the door caught their attention. A voice called down from overhead. “The dogs are trying to get in! Hurry back up here!”
Muam helped her over to the ladder, and they began climbing up to the overhead storage area, when something struck the door with a loud bang. Immediately after, several dogs started howling and barking, and their scratching became more frenetic.
Someone grabbed Muam’s arm as he reached the top of the ladder and hauled him over the edge. At the same time, the door below gave way, and they heard several hounds rush inside. The group of children watched in alarm as the dogs sniffed around the interior. When a couple of the animals investigated the ladder, one of them began climbing up the wooden steps.
“They are coming after us!” Karliff yelled. “Get out of here! Run!”
“Run where?” Muam demanded. “Is there another ladder?”
“It does not matter! We have to get out of here!”
“We have to jump down to the stream,” another voice noted.
“That is crazy! It is too far to jump!” Kiret argued. “There are rocks below!”
A dog’s massive head appeared over the edge of the storage area. It reached out with a paw as it struggled to get a foothold on the flooring to hoist itself up. Grabbing a sack, Muam wadded it up and ran at the animal. The dog growled and snapped at the sack as Muam pushed against it, knocking the hound off the ladder. The animal landed on the floor below with a cry of pain, but two more animals were already ascending the ladder.
Gova grabbed his arm. “We cannot keep trying to knock them down. They will eventually reach us.” She was right. He knew it, and he was certain the others did, as well.
“Is there a way to climb down the outside of the mill?” he yelled, trying to be heard above the din coming from below as the dogs, sensing they were closing in on their prey, kept up the baying and barking.
They hurried to the other end of the storage area, where the roof opened up. Muam gazed out in the distance. Other than a lone fire burning far away, there was no other sign of life or activity. Overhead, the spirits of those whom the gods had deemed worthy sparkled in the darkness.
“There are more dogs outside,” one of the other boys pointed out. “Look.”
Muam guessed there had to be at least a dozen in the pack. As he peered over the edge, one of the animals that had clambered up the ladder managed to get footing on the floor. Snarling, the dog rushed them. There was a scream, and one of the children tumbled down to the stream below. The dog came after Muam, but he managed to take a swipe at it with the bundled bag he still held. The dog yelped as it slid off the roof and plummeted to the ground where several in the pack converged on it.
“Muam.” Gova grabbed his arm. “We will not survive this. You and I know this. If we try to climb down or jump, we could break a leg, or worse, and the dogs will tear us apart.”
He pulled her thin, trembling body against him. “Our only way to avoid that is to jump head first, and pray we die instantly when we hit the rocks.”
Another growl indicated another dog had reached the top of the ladder. Knowing they had no time left, Muam gave her one final kiss. “Until the next time, my love,” he promised. Letting her go, he dove off the roof. The last thing he saw before he hit the stream was Gova following directly behind him.
Chapter 14
England, 1557
His head hurt. His arms hurt. His legs were throbbing. There was a pressure against his lower back so persistent, his muscles screamed in agony.
Muam slowly opened his eyes. He was propped upwards, but he wasn’t standing. Flexing his fingers, he figured he was tied to something. A pole of some sort. He tried to raise his head in order to get a better look around, but something prevented him from doing so. Neither could he adjust himself to relieve some of the pain.
Wherever he was, it was dark. What he assumed to be a lit torch flickered somewhere. But worse than how he felt was the stench. He caught the sound of groaning from several throats, which told him he wasn’t alone.
Out of the corner of his eye came a slight movement. “Robart. Robart, can you hear me?”
Muam blinked to clear the film covering his eyes. Only it wasn’t film. This room was soaked in smoke and dust. He coughed and tried to clear his throat. “Yes, I hear you.”
“Can you move?”
He didn’t have to try to answer that question. “No. My arms and legs will not obey me.”
“It is a miracle you are still alive, after what the guards did to you. Justonen is still out. He has been unconscious ever since they brought him back here.”
“How are you doing?” Muam had discovered long ago that by engaging strangers into talking about themselves, they often revealed important details that helped him discover who he was, where he was, and sometimes why he was there.
“My arms are busted. I think they are no longer attached to my body. But my legs are fine. They were careful not to injure them too much.”
“Why not? My legs are aching.”
“But you can still walk on them. You have to still be able to walk on them. These guards are not going to carry you to your death. You have to walk there unaided.”
“What if I cannot?” Muam queried.
“Then they will find a way to make you. I know of a man who was dragged behind a horse because they accidentally broke one of his knees. Fortunately for him, he died before he reached the stake.”
Muam tried again to lift his head. This time he managed to succeed, but only a little bit. The man who’d been speaking to him was chained to a long table. By the awkward angle of the one arm he could see, Muam could tell it had been pulled out of the socket. Not far away, another man hung, suspended from an overhead beam. His feet didn’t touch the floor, and his arms were stretched over his head. It was clear the man was completely out of it, perhaps for the better, considering how much blood streaked his bared skin.
“How much longer must we endure this torture?” Muam asked in a gravelly voice.
“Not much longer. I believe today is the day we shall meet our Lord and Savior in Heaven.”
Meet who? The comment had been said with a note of reverence. Muam couldn’t tell if the lord and savior was one person or two, much less know where Heaven was. It didn’t matter, as long as it meant they would be taken out of this den of horror.
A noise caught their attention. Muam heard a door open behind him, and several people entered. They moved around to where he could see them. Although they were dressed in odd clothing, by the helmets and lances, it was clear they were guards. They stopped behind the man
on the table, stepping aside to allow a man in long, dark robes to stand in front and face the prisoners
“This is your final chance to renounce your blasphemous religion. Repent, and the persuasion will cease.”
“If we repent, does that mean you will let us go?” Muam asked, although he already knew what the answer would be.
The man in the robes gave him a disdainful look. “The means of persuasion we have been using to seek your salvation will no longer be employed. However, you are still prisoners of Her Majesty. And, thus, your freedom will only be granted through her will.”
The man on the table laughed hysterically. “The bloody queen does not even know we are here, you turd! How can she grant us clemency when she is not even aware of our existence?”
The robed man ignored the outburst, focusing on Muam instead. “What is your decision? Repent and live? Or refuse and die?”
The choice was simple. If he repented, he would be condemned to remain in this dank hole, never to see the outside world—or Gova—again. She was out there, somewhere, looking for him. He had to get away from this torture chamber in order for them to find each other.
“The devil take you to hell!” the man on the table yelled.
“And I second him,” Muam said. “We will never repent our beliefs. No matter how much you try to convince us otherwise.”
The robed man crossed his arms over his chest as a smug smile covered his face. The man had anticipated, perhaps had hoped to hear, those exact words. A shudder went through Muam.
Instead of commenting, the man gave a signal to the guards. One began unchaining the man on the table. Two others started lowering the unconscious man from where he was suspended. Muam felt a tug on his arms from where the ropes or shackles were being removed from his wrists. A sudden shove on his shoulder forced him to fall face-first onto the ground. Muam groaned as feeling came back to his limbs, bringing bright, hard pain with it. His companion was dragged off the table, where he collapsed to his knees. The man who’d been hanging remained unaware. A guard threw a bucket of water on him, but was unable to revive him. Grunting, the guard tied a rope around the man’s ankles and began dragging him out of room.
“Come. Move it.” Another guard gestured for Muam and his companion to follow the hapless man being dragged out. Muam struggled to get to his feet. He was eventually grabbed under the arms and hauled up, when he managed to stay upright without toppling over again. As they swayed, struggling to remain upright, a rope was looped around Muam’s neck, then around his companion’s neck, linking them together. After the guard checked to make sure the prisoners couldn’t slip out of their restraints, the two of them were able to stumble their way out of the chamber, through winding hallways, and eventually out into the open where a crowd was gathering.
He and the other man followed the man in the robes. The guards kept the path clear for them, although the crowd continued to press close to Muam and the others. As they passed through, the townspeople filled in behind to follow them toward their destination.
“Sacrilegious!” a woman shrieked. “Blasphemers!”
A rotten vegetable was thrown at them, striking Muam in the arm and sending a shaft of pain through his entire body. Halting in his tracks, he gasped and waited for the knife-like sensations to end, but he was slammed in the back by an impatient guard.
“Keep moving!”
Trying to place one foot in front of the other was like trying to wade through knee-high mud. His legs felt as though huge weights were tied to them, preventing him from walking normally.
But his pain and circumstances were secondary to Muam’s real purpose. He scanned the crowd, searching for that one beloved face that had to be here. For that one person whom the gods decreed he must rejoin in order for the both of them to continue.
The crowd grew rowdier, hurling insults and garbage at the prisoners. He ducked to avoid something thrown his way, when a familiar figure appeared ahead of the robed man. Gova stared at him with a curious expression on her face as he neared.
“Gova! Gova, I am here!” He held up a hand to get her attention. She continued to look at him, but there was no sign of recognition. He called out to her again, causing several people to glance around, hoping to find the person he was yelling at. Her included.
Cold fear filled his gut. This wasn’t right. She should be awake by now.
Another possibility reached inside him and squeezed. What if she didn’t awaken until after his death? How would they be able to cross on to their next lives if they didn’t die together, as they had in all their other past lives?
What if she never awakened in this lifetime?
“Gova! Wake up! Wake up, Gova! You must wake up!”
A gloved hand slammed into the side of his head. “Shut your mouth!”
Muam refused to obey. He couldn’t die alone. He had to get her attention. Make her wake up, somehow, someway.
“Gova! It is me! Muam! Gova, you have to awaken!”
“Dearest God in heaven.”
He turned to look where his armless companion was staring. At the same time, they came to a halt in the middle of some sort of square. In its center was a single large pole, surrounded by piles of dried brush. Other guards continued to heap more dead wood around the pole.
The robed man gestured to the guards holding Muam and his companions. Jerking on the rope around their necks, they were led up a set of wooden steps to the pole. The armless man was shoved against it so his back was to the large log, which had been covered with some sort of oil. Muam was placed beside him, followed by the unconscious man, who was held in place as another length of rope was wrapped around the three of them.
They were tied to a stake, the brush would be set aflame, and Muam realized he could die before Gova was aware of their circumstances. If he did, there was the chance she would never discover that he had perished. If that happened, she might spend the rest of her life futilely looking for him. If, by some chance, she found out he’d already died, and subsequently took her own life, it could be too late.
“Gova! Wake up, my love! Wake up! By the gods, you have to wake up!”
She remained totally oblivious of the fact that he was crying out to her. He tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look directly at him. Her attention was focused on the robed man, who took a stance in front of the crowd, between them and the stake.
Pulling out something from the deep sleeves of his garment, the robed man opened it. The horde of people grew silent to hear what he had to say.
“Listen all! This is a royal proclamation from Her Majesty, the Queen. Let it be known that the accused, Robart Sessings, Hiram Corrowton, and Philip Marsh, have been found guilty of heresy and treason. They have been sentenced to burn at the stake until they are dead.” Closing the object, the man made a sign in the air. “May God have mercy on your souls.” Giving the guards a nod of his head, he stepped away.
Muam stared in horror as two guards came forth with lit torches. They shoved the torches into the bundles of straw and twigs, stepping away when the fire caught. Muam forced himself to tear his gaze away from the encroaching flames, and continued to call out to Gova. But his cries were lost in the screams and taunts coming from the mob. Regardless, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, even when his voice grew hoarse.
“Gova! Please, please, by the gods, wake up! Wake up, my beloved! Wake up!”
Thick gray smoke rose up, making it difficult to breathe. It scorched his throat, and he coughed in a useless attempt to clear his lungs. The fire drew closer, licking at the leather wrappings around his feet. The armless man beside him started screaming as flames caught his breeches and began crawling up his legs.
“Gova! Gova! Wake up!”
It was of no use. His voice was gone. The fire was penetrating through to his feet, and he tried to shriek in pain, but no sound came out of his mouth. As agony engulfed his legs, and the smoke and flames made it almost impossible to see, he focused on Gova’s beautiful fa
ce. If this was to be the end of them, the last thing he wanted, he needed to see, was her.
The man beside him let out an almost inhuman scream. Gova’s eyes widened suddenly, and Muam saw her step back. She glanced around at the surrounding multitude, then back at him, and suddenly she understood what was happening. He saw her mouth his name, but he couldn’t hear her. He was close to death. Not from the fire, but from the smoke. He couldn’t breathe. His body screamed for air, and he began to lose consciousness.
Gova shoved her way toward the front of the crowd. She yelled his name again as she watched her husband going up in flames. She tried to get past the guard holding them back. As the man held out his arms to block her way, she drove her nails into the man’s face, adding a knee to the guard’s groin. The soldier grabbed his groin and bent over in pain, enabling her to rush toward the inferno.
Muam watched as she threw herself onto the pyre. They never locked eyes again. Never got to kiss or hold each other. But he knew their love would survive.
They died together, but it was the most agonizing death they had ever endured.
Chapter 15
France, 1795
The explosion nearly deafened her. Gova stopped in her tracks as screams reverberated around her. The smell of blood and something acrid burned in her nose as she tried to make sense of the pandemonium surrounding her.
She was in the midst of a battle. People were yelling, cursing, and more explosions erupted, although these were smaller, like tree limbs cracking.
Someone pushed by her, ramming her arm and elbow as they hurried off. The jarring sent pain up her shoulder, and she almost dropped the item in her hand. Gova stared at the strange lance she was grasping, when a wave of humanity surged forward, pushing her along with them.
A bone jarring explosion rent the air again. In front of her, several men burst apart, sending blood and body parts flying into the air. Gova held back as her mind frantically tried to assess the situation. These people were dying, and she knew at some point she would follow them. But not until she found Muam. She had to find him first so they could face their deaths together.