Sound of the Heart

by Genevieve Graham

  Aline swallowed noticeably beside her, readying herself to spit words she obviously despised.

  “Ye needn’t say more,” Glenna assured her. “I’ve stories I’ve no wish to share, like you.”

  “’Tis only . . .” Aline shrugged and stared straight ahead. “There have been times when I suppose death would have been a better option. It would certainly have meant less pain for me in the end. But the whole time I kept thinkin’ there must be a reason for it all. I promised myself I would survive and discover it.” She chewed on her lower lip then took a breath. “I was on my own in our cottage, ye see. Two years past or so. My menfolk all gone, my daughters, thank God, off and married. The soldiers . . . well, I believe there were five or six o’ them came calling.”

  Glenna closed her eyes, suddenly nauseous. She tried to compare any of her horrors to the one Aline now shared and found her complaints paled. She said nothing.

  Aline’s gaze travelled far away, beyond the bobbing masts. She swallowed, remembering. “Took me a good while to heal. There was no one about to tend me, so I made do. I kept thinkin’ there had to be a reason I wasna dead. They could have killed me the whole time, but they only—” She dropped her gaze and took another deep breath, sounding tired. “Well, they tried to kill my spirit, callin’ me Prince Charles’s whore an’ all, but I wouldna let them do it.”

  She took Glenna’s hand in hers, linking their fingers as they walked. “Ye see, I believe the spirit is the only part of a person that canna be taken. Not unless it is given. And I will never give that away. No’ to them, no’ to anyone.”

  A tear slid down Glenna’s cheek. Aline glanced at her, then away, back toward the sea. “I dinna tell ye this to make ye sorry for me, Glenna. But when we are in the black o’ that ship and all the folk around us are sick an’ dyin’ an’ moanin’ for death, I want ye to keep my thought in yer head. Yer man was killed, but ye were not. There is a reason, an’ if ye let them take yer fight from ye, ye’ve let them win, an’ ye’ve lost yer reason.”

  Glenna sniffed quietly. “Have ye found yer reason, Aline?”

  She shrugged. “Could be it was just now, savin’ ye from a hangin’. Could be it was any o’ those men I helped to heal at the fort. Could be it is yet to come. Or it could be all o’ those things.”

  Glenna shook her head, considering the possibilities. “I couldna be as strong as all that.”

  “Aye, ye could. I heard what ye did for wee Brenda at the fort. She’s a wee slip of a lass. If Jennings had done what ye prevented, well . . . She’s already lost half her mind as it is, poor thing.”

  “But this ship—”

  “Ye’ve reason, Glenna. Ye must believe ye’ve reason enough to survive this journey an’ make it in the colonies. Ye’ll ken when the time comes, an’ then ye’ll be glad ye fought back.”

  The ship’s hold was worse than she remembered, and the journey farther. The worst part of it, in Glenna’s mind, was that their hands were shackled the entire way. She didn’t understand the need for that. What could they possibly do that would necessitate using chains? But the wrists of even the smallest of them clinked together the entire way, a constant reminder that they were no more than cargo.

  Food was provided once every two weeks, and those who couldn’t eat slowly enough fell easy prey to illness when meagre portions ran out. The darkness hid any idea of day or night, but when they took their mandatory daily walk about the deck, they gratefully absorbed the reminder that life existed outside of the ship, though it mostly appeared as a flat, endless horizon.

  Aline and Glenna rarely talked about their pasts, but they did talk more. Glenna understood. Aline was the kind who didn’t usually share personal memories, but had done so only because she felt it would help Glenna. There was no need to dwell on history. Glenna had been starved for intelligent conversation ever since Dougal’s demise, and she found it with Aline. If Glenna mentioned a book she’d read with Dougal, Aline usually knew of it, though she’d never learned to read. Her mother had died when Aline was born, and her aunt had raised her. Aline and Glenna discussed the books they recalled and occasionally shared the stories with the others. If Glenna wanted to philosophise at all, Aline was more than willing to take up the opposing side. Bit by bit, the women learned more about each other, and Glenna eventually shared her story. Aline was delighted to hear about Glenna’s masquerade as a boy.

  “How canny of ye!” she exclaimed.

  Glenna had frowned. “It wasna my idea. My mother—”

  “Oh aye, but ye could have dropped the costume later. Instead, ye survived as a whole other person. So ye’ve been more than one person all along, Glenna. How wonderful.”

  Glenna still didn’t see it that way, but enjoyed Aline’s optimistic attitude about everything. After three months at sea, she was afraid, suddenly, of leaving the boat and leaving their friendship behind.

  “Will we be separated, do ye suppose, when we land?”

  Aline’s expression sobered at that. “Aye, I think maybe so.”

  Glenna took her hands. “I want ye to know that ye’re my first lady friend. Aye,” she said, grinning at Aline’s expression. “My very first. An’ ye’ll always be dear to me. If we are to be separated, I will carry ye wi’ me, for I shall need yer strength, I reckon. Ye shall always have mine as well.”

  The older woman blinked quickly. “That means so much to me, Glenna. Thank ye. Ye’ll be wi’ me as well, my dear. An’ who knows? Maybe we’ll no’ be far from each other after all.”

  On the morning they landed at the port in Virginia, Glenna felt ill with anxiety. Though she could see nothing new in the darkness of the hold, the sounds over their heads were clear. The deck pounded with activity and voices were raised, calling out, she assumed, to someone on shore. Everything in her life was about to change again, and it was, as usual, something over which she had no control.

  All six of the women had survived the journey, though both Bonnie and Brenda were practically mute with exhaustion and hunger by the journey’s end. A blanket of misery wrapped around them all, but the slightest chance of hope raised their spirits. As the soldiers came to retrieve the prisoners, the women held hands, then kissed each other’s cheeks and squinted against the light of day as they headed wordlessly up to the deck.

  CHAPTER 33

  Another Role to Play

  The port was noisy, a strange sight to see after so long spent in the dark. It would have been more of a shock had the sun been out, but the morning was swathed in gray by a stubborn fog. It closed over the port so only bits and pieces of dock and buildings could be seen from the ship, as if it kept secrets to itself. The deck of the ship was busy as well, the hustle of sailors tying the ship down and stowing away sails. The gangplank had been lowered, and both soldiers and seamen worked together, transferring cargo to the docks.

  The women were led to a large barrel of water in a corner of the deck and were told to wash their faces and manage their hair, make themselves presentable in public. It was the first time in months anyone had worried about appearance above survival, and the women were quick to run fingers through their matted hair and piece together tattered gowns. There was no mirror on board, so the women were each other’s critics. Glenna waited for the others to finish before she cleaned herself. The cool water felt good on her skin, and though it smelled nothing like the clear stream water back in Aberfeldy, it seemed relatively fresh, so someone had apparently brought it from the dock that morning. When she was done, she pulled out the tie in her hair, resettled it as best she could into a roll at the back of her neck, then joined a similarly clean Nessa at the rail.

  “Quite a place, isn’t it?”

  The other women nodded. Beside them, Brenda spoke for the first time in days. “I dinna like it.”

  Nessa put one arm around the girl and squeezed her against her side. “There now, child. Ye canna say ye dinna like it if ye dinna try it first. Like tastin’ a new food, aye? Ye’ll be fine here.”

&nb
sp; “Will ye stay wi’ me?”

  Nessa exchanged a quick glance with Aline, then looked back at Brenda. “I think not, hen. I dinna ken for sure, but I imagine they’ll send us to different places.”

  Glenna didn’t think the girl could have gotten any paler, but she did in that moment. And she stopped speaking again.

  “Right!” they heard, and turned as one toward the speaker, a large man in uniform, addressing them from the higher deck. “You will be taken down in small groups and will say nothing. Nothing. Do you hear? Any speaking will result in a severe flogging.”

  His audience was so weak Glenna doubted any of them could survive a flogging, so they did nothing but nod.

  “Yes. Good. Now. Ladies first, shall we?” He gave the women a short bow and gestured, indicating they should accompany two wigged soldiers. Aline was the first of them to step onto the gangplank, followed closely by Brenda and Bonnie. Nessa held Brenda’s hand as they crossed over the water. Glenna and Lorna were the last two to cross.

  The activity was even more bewildering once they were on the ground, caught up in the middle of it. Passersby jostled past, dogs sniffed and barked, people scurried by, carrying baskets and cases of whatever. Glenna and the other women faced the first soldier, whose eyes quickly passed over them as if evaluating goods of some kind. Then he stepped forward and grabbed Glenna by one arm. She stumbled forward, her chains cutting the calloused skin of her wrists.

  “Up there,” the soldier ordered, indicating a raised platform.

  Glenna frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Weren’t you told not to speak? Get up there, woman.”

  Glenna glanced back at her friends, who shrugged, looking helpless. Clearly no one, as usual, knew what was going on. With no other choice, Glenna stepped onto the platform where a bald, portly man waited. He flicked a cursory smile at her, then turned his attention to a growing crowd of onlookers.

  “Ah. Yes. Quite right. Here we have the prize of The Edinburgh, a sweet young thing, maybe twenty years old. Quiet, agreeable, and as you can see . . .” He turned back and, in one quick motion, tugged up the side of her skirt to reveal a strong thigh. Glenna gasped and slammed her shackles at the man’s hands, but he was quick. Evidently he’d done this before. He grinned and muttered, “Keep quiet, girly. It’s not worth a thrashing.” He returned to his audience. “As you can see from those pretty legs, she’s no weakling. I wager she’s a good worker, if you know what I mean.” He beamed and pointedly winked at the crowd. “So let’s start the bidding. What do I hear?”

  Glenna could do nothing but gape as numbers were thrown at the man, along with questions.

  “Is she a virgin?”

  “Wha—” Glenna’s objection was met by a sharp jab of the man’s elbow, rendering her speechless.

  “I feel certain she is,” the man said, nodding at the caller. There were scatterings of laughter around the crowd.

  “Pah! A looker like that ain’t no virgin!” someone called.

  “Who cares?” shouted another.

  “Does it matter?” asked the auctioneer. He nodded to an assistant, a burly, bearded man who had materialised behind Glenna. The assistant gripped Glenna’s hands while the auctioneer grabbed her bodice, tearing it straight down and to the side, revealing all. Glenna shrieked and wrestled with her captor, trying to free her hands, but she was helpless in his grip. An appreciative murmur rose from the crowd and numbers started flying more quickly at the auctioneer.

  Tears surged down Glenna’s face and fell, unobstructed, onto her bare skin as she struggled against her captors. She could hear the women behind her, the sweet, pathetic moaning of Brenda as she realised it would be her turn soon. Nessa’s voice, outwardly calm, vibrated with a trill of fear.

  “Does she read?” The question cut through the noise in a deep bass tone.

  The little round man turned to Glenna, frowning. “Nod or shake your head. Can you read?” Glenna nodded and the man turned back to the crowd. “She reads.”

  The same commanding voice bellowed out a new figure, silencing the other bidders. Glenna was tugged off the platform just as Lorna was brought on. It was the first time Glenna had ever seen Lorna look vulnerable, and as much as she disliked the woman, she hated the sight of her weakness even more.

  The soldier finally undid the chains on Glenna’s wrists as she was handed over to her new master. Money changed hands. The man didn’t look her in the eye, only stepped back and draped a heavy black cloak over her shoulders, covering the ruined remains of her gown. She turned, looking for the owner of the cloak, and met the cool gaze of a solid, serious-looking man. He was middle-aged, his eyes maybe a foot higher than her own. He wore a black wig under a tricorne, an austere black waistcoat, and when she looked down, she saw the buckles on his shoes were a good, polished silver. A man of money had just purchased her. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

  She spun around when she heard a yelp and saw Lorna, stripped similarly to how she had been. The woman had a weather-worn, cynical face, with eyes hard as rock. But her body was lush and young. Voices were raised again and Glenna watched three of the bidders call hard against each other. The eventual high bidder was a large woman who shuffled proprietarily through the crowd, revealing a copper red crown of curls and a dark green satin gown. Most of her breasts were revealed, bubbling over her bodice, and as subtle as the large beauty mark painted on her chin. Glenna met Lorna’s eyes as they both realised Lorna’s future, and thought she had never seen so much loss of spirit happen all at once. It was Aline’s voice that returned to her then, her tireless need to continue on for whatever reason. Just survive, she thought as loudly as she could, then turned away as Lorna was pulled off the platform and deposited into her new master’s hands.

  Glenna glanced up at her own master—that was going to be a hard concept for her to accept—and didn’t see the same sort of threat. The man was watching the platform where Brenda now stood, shaking so hard she looked as if she might collapse. Glenna couldn’t bear the thought of what was coming. Bids came quickly and loudly, men wanting to bring home this young treasure who quite possibly was a virgin.

  “Please, sir,” Glenna whispered. Her master glanced down quickly, surprised to hear her voice. “She’s just a girl, sir. If ye were to bring her wi’ ye, she’d work hard. If only she could walk from this wi’ her gown still intact—”

  “She doesn’t look strong,” the man said, dismissing her. He had an accent, sharp and almost guttural. “I need strong.”

  “Oh, but—”

  His eyes swiveled to glare down at her, black as the darkest night in winter and just as threatening. She stared back, completely confused, and while they were held in this moment, the crowd cheered again. Brenda screamed, then bawled like a naked babe before dozens of hungry men. The same redheaded woman was back. She’d left Lorna with her man in the back and now came with eyes gleaming to claim this promise of treasure. Brenda’s eyes, white with terror, darted desperately over the crowd, hoping for rescue. There was none. Her slender back disappeared amid the throng and Glenna choked back her grief.

  Somewhere in the town, a bell chimed ten o’clock. The man beside her glared impatiently at the remaining women.

  “This one looks strong,” the man muttered, and called out immediately when Aline came to the platform. His bid was high enough that everyone around him hushed and Aline was led directly to him, her gown in one secure piece.

  “This is enough. Come. Do not speak.”

  CHAPTER 34

  The Student Teaches

  The women clasped hands and Glenna inwardly celebrated having Aline with her. It could have been so much worse for both of them, and now Glenna had someone she could believe in. A friend. They exchanged a glance of such intense relief they both almost laughed. Without a word, they followed the man to his fine black carriage, led by a matching pair of impatient bay horses, and climbed inside.

  They sat on one side of the carriage, the man on the oth
er. He fell asleep in almost the first moment when they’d settled themselves on the tapestried cushions. The countryside raced by the carriage windows in a blur while the women gawked with amazement. The fog was fading quickly, and now all they could see was the green and gold of oaks, birches, and maples as they raced past. After riding the rise and fall of the infinitely black sea for so long and sitting in a miserable heap within the damp cold walls of the fort before that, the autumn colours of the New World were almost overwhelming.

  After a half hour or so, the women leaned back in their seats and glanced nervously at each other, unsure whether or not they were allowed to speak yet.

  “What do ye think?” Glenna whispered.

  Aline shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” She snuck a glance at the man opposite them. “Seems well enough, I suppose.”

  The thought brought the faces of the others back to Glenna, the realisation of how close she’d come to living her life on her back.

  “If ye pray, ye’d best do so for wee Brenda. An’ Lorna as well.”

  By now Glenna was used to her friend saying what she’d been thinking. “An’ we’ve no idea of the others.”

  “Nessa will be fine,” Aline said, though she looked dubious. “But Bonnie . . .” The words drifted unfinished through cracks around the windows and were sucked away into the fiery autumnal trees.

  The trees in Aberfeldy would be golden by now as well. The oaks would be bathed in cloaks of red and yellow, dropping their leaves on the little home she and Dougal had left behind. As the carriage rolled farther into the countryside, Glenna brought the images of the little cabin to her mind, picturing the furniture Dougal had crafted, the bed with its finely carved wood posts, the thick mattress he had bought for her birthday. They’d never actually known her real birthdate, so Dougal had decided it for her. He’d come to her on the most beautiful autumn afternoon she’d ever seen, his arms full of goldenrods and sedum, his eyes dancing as he wished her a happy birthday. He’d decided the perfection of the day was due to the fact that it marked Glenna’s arrival on earth. She had giggled and cried and he had gathered her up against him, kissing the salty tears from her cheeks, telling her he loved her and always would.