Silent Heart

by Susan Simone

  Desert was served in the front room. Once again I was arranged with cushions and pillows. My foot was put up on the table with a small pillow. The riding skirt made it easy to keep myself covered that way. I sat back next to Stone with a cup of hot sweet tea and enjoyed the cool rain soaked breeze coming from the open windows.

  “So what did your parents do?” his father asked. I nearly dropped the cup. How to explain this… I looked at Stone for a moment.

  ‘Should I tell them the truth?’

  ‘They’re family,’ he shrugged. ‘They won’t hold it against you.’

  ‘They’re not family.’

  ‘Close enough. Trust me. They’ll find out sooner or later.’

  “Not fair,” his father put in. “No secret conversations,” he smiled.

  ‘Forgive me,’ I blushed while Stone translated. ‘It is a delicate answer to your question. My father was a Xuman trapper. He was quite good and while we were never rich, we never wanted for the necessities. Before my parents met, my mother was a prostitute. This is not something we advertized but we are not ashamed either.’

  “Oh my,” his mother said.

  ‘I never did hear the story of how they met. There was something about her that made my father look beyond what she did for a living. She quit when they married and moved away from the city she worked in. All my life she was a good mother. She dressed properly, she never wore make up, even for my father. She never hid what she did but they also both made it clear that it wasn’t a good choice and that I was worth more than that. They expected me to find a better way for myself. In the last years of her life she helped women who wanted to escape that life. She found them honest work and taught them skills. I remember our house being filled with women who looked singularly uncomfortable in high collars; stabbing their fingers over embroidery or basic clothing repairs, or cooking horribly. I’ve put out more than my share of cooking fires over the years.’

  “I’m sorry if this is rude, but what happened to them?” his father asked.

  ‘They died of a fever. Mother caught something from one of her charges. She sent my brother and me away and father caught it caring for her. He died not two days after her. I always believed it was a broken heart. That was five years ago now.’

  “I’m sorry.”

  ‘It’s alright. They were buried together and are probably dancing wherever spirits go.’

  “What about your brother?”

  ‘Bear,’ I sighed and wiped at the corner of my eye. ‘I’m sorry the wound is still fresh. He was my twin. After our parents died, he worried about providing for me. He argued the strongest that my mind was sound even though I couldn’t hear but in the end he loved me and couldn’t take his own advice. He became a soldier. I’m not sure I remember whose regiment he served under. He died for me. Bear came home the night the men in black attacked the house. He was killed in the fight.’

  “Were you very attached to him?” his mother asked with gentle eyes.

  ‘He was my world. He was my twin. He was the other half of me. I am who I am because of him. My language, my hands and gestures, was our language. We made it up together from babies. He had to teach our parents. He made sure I was educated. He taught me to read and write, and translated the world for me and made me a part of things instead of a crippled little girl watching from the sidelines. There are no words to describe his loss. I still wake up sometimes and forget that he is gone and then I have to remember it all over again.’

  “I’m so sorry you’ve lost so much.”

  ‘I’m still alive.’

  “What about you?” his father asked. “How do you provide for yourself when your brother was gone in battles and what not?”

  ‘I’m a painter. I make and sell pigments for artists and carved horsehair brushes.’

  “She’s an amazing artist,” Stone put in. “Don’t let her down sell you. She rivals anything I’ve ever seen.”

  ‘He’s exaggerating.’

  “No, really. I have some of her work.” He got up and went to the doorway where our pack was waiting. I watched him frowning trying to remember what work of mine he could have. He pulled out a rolled leather scroll and my mouth dropped in shock.

  ‘They don’t need to see that,’ I said as he sat down.

  “Why not? It’s beautiful.”

  ‘Really, Stone.’

  “Oh stop they’ll love it. Here,” he handed the scroll over to his father and his mother moved so she could look over his shoulder. I looked away wanting to hide my face. That picture was private. It may have been technically decent but it was filled with all kinds of sexual undertones and innuendo. The look in his eyes alone would be enough to get it banned from any proper circuit.

  “This is spectacular,” his father looked surprised.

  “She did it all with burnt stick,” Stone told them proudly. “Imagine what she can do with proper brushes.”

  ‘It’s no different than a charcoal pencil,’ I said. Why were they making such a big deal?

  “I’d frame it if I had a proper place to hang it,” his mother said. “It’s a little too risqué for any of the public rooms, but you don’t exactly want to hide it away in a bedroom either.”

  “How about the music room?” his father asked. “It would go well with some of the nudes and busts you have in there.”

  “Oh yes,” she said excitedly. “The leather would pull together with some of the Xuman drums we have and the subject matter would match the art.”

  ‘My mother collects art,’ Stone told me privately with a grin.

  ‘You knew they would do this didn’t you?’ I accused.

  ‘It’s my family, you should trust me.’ I flicked his nose exasperated and he caught my hand kissing my fingers.

  “What did I tell you two about that?” his father interrupted us.

  ‘Blame Stone, he’s supposed to be translating,’ I said.

  “What?” Stone responded while his parents laughed.

  ‘What goes around comes around.’

  “May we keep this?” his mother asked hopefully.

  ‘It’s Stone’s really.’

  “Keep it,” Stone said. “I’m sure there’ll be others.”

  The evening passed in another blur of inconsequential conversation and laughter. When we finally headed to bed, Stone insisted on carrying me. I made a show of exasperation, going limp in his arms and making his parents laugh, but really I enjoyed being this close to him. It was like a dream. I was being officially and publically courted by a wealthy knight. I can’t believe it took me all this time to realize he was a knight. He’d basically said so in my little cabin, he was the king’s chosen champion. It took seeing the staff call him Sir with a capital ‘S’ for me to realize how high his rank actually was. Stone could have been a farmhand and I would have loved him the same.

  He carried me to my room and sat me on the bed next to a nightgown and robe that had been laid out. There was a bell sitting on the nightstand with a glass of clear water, a lamp, and a book. His mother was very detailed. It made me smile.

  ‘My room is down the hall,’ he told me. ‘Mom and Dad’s in right next to you and several maids are across the hall for the night. If you need anything, ring the bell or call out. Remember I don’t want you trying to walk once you take the brace off. The maids are under orders to wake me up if you need to use the privy or something.’

  ‘Good,’ I laughed. ‘It took three of them just to get me to the bath.’

  ‘See? Strong arms are useful. Besides the privy is downstairs.’

  ‘Oh God can you imagine them trying to carry me downstairs?’ We both laughed.

  ‘Don’t be afraid to call for me.’

  ‘How am I supposed to sleep without you?’

  ‘You’re in a bed. You’ll be so comfortable you won’t notice I’m gone.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I smiled.

  ‘I’ll miss you too.’ He bent down and just brushed his lips over mine. I almost put my
arms around his neck pulling him closer. I almost tried to kill his resolve with my lips, but I let him go. ‘Get some sleep; we have a long ride tomorrow.’

  ‘I love you,’ I said when his back was turned. He paused for a second and turned to look at me as if he saw my words out of the corner of his eye, but he only smiled and walked away.

  It was easier than I thought to fall asleep. I was weary body, mind, and soul. I didn’t read or distract myself in anyway. I only laid down and was out before my head hit the pillow.

  Twenty Five

  It started with a dream. Isn’t that how it always starts? The dead come for me and my memories attack from every corner. Sleep was no longer a refuge but a constant terror. I wished with every fiber of my being that I could have avoided it, that sleep was no longer necessary, but it took me unwilling and I was tortured again.

  I dreamed I was in the windowless room. I relived every humiliation and every blow. I felt all the pain fresh while Rinald and Bear watched grimly from the sidelines. When the skeleton man raped me I woke up with a start crying. And then I screamed.

  There was a man at the foot of my bed. It was one of them. A man in black. I screamed as hard as I could scream and dove off the side of the bed knocking the nightstand over in the process. I watched as he stole away into the closet. Stone’s mother was the first one in wrapped in her robe. She crouched down over me and tried pulling me back to the bed. I kept pointing frantically at the closet but she didn’t understand me.

  “Man,” I tried to say but it must have been garbled in my distress because she only shook her head confused. Her husband was only a minute behind. Together the two of them picked me up and got me sitting on the bed. I kept pointing to the closet but neither understood me. Stone’s mother tried to hug me but I was frantic for them to understand.

  Stone strode in barefoot and topless carrying his sword. He dropped it at my feet and knelt down in front of me taking my face and forcing me to look at him.

  ‘There was a man!’ I told him. ‘He was right here.’

  ‘It’s alright, sweetheart. It was only a dream.’

  ‘No it wasn’t! I mean yes I had a dream but when I woke up there was a man at the foot of the bed. One of them!’

  ‘Are you sure this wasn’t part of your dream?’

  ‘Yes! He’s in the closet.’

  ‘The closet?’

  ‘Look at the floor Stone. It’s wet! He’s in the closet!’

  ‘Don’t move.’ He got up slowly taking his blade with him and carefully made his way to the closet silently noting the wet floor. He poised himself by the door and listened for a long moment before ripping it open. I held my breath expecting something to happen but all was still. He reached in and riffled through the clothing that was hanging there. He turned to me and said with voice and hands, “There’s nothing there—.” An arm reached out clinched around his neck. We all startled, his mother and I jumped grabbing for each other.

  Stone didn’t hesitate; he flipped the man over his shoulder with a house shuddering thud, rolled him over and landed with his knee in his back twisting his arms behind him with one hand. It happened so fast I barely had time to breathe. Stone pulled his head back by his hair showing me his strained face.

  “Is he one of them?” he asked with voice and one hand, but I could read his lips even in the low light. I nodded unable to make words of any kind and stared at the two of them. I remembered this one. He liked it from behind in a place better left untouched. Stone dragged him to his feet and slammed him face first into a wall. His father hurried out the room and came back with his personal guards and rope. They tied his hands and two liveried men took each arm, blades drawn.

  “Alive or dead, Paige?” Stone asked.

  ‘What?’

  “Alive or dead? What do you want? I’ll kill him right now if you want.” I thought about this for a long moment watching the black blood drip from the man’s nose and lips. I could remember what it felt like when he touched me; when he was inside me. I could remember how he spit on me when he was done and held me down for the next man.

  ‘Dying is too easy. Let him suffer.’

  “Get him out of here.”

  “Hold him in the cellar,” his father said and he was taken away.

  “Send someone for the city watch. These assholes are like rats. Where’s there’s one there’s more. You’ll want to search the house. There’s no way he infiltrated on his own.” Suddenly the men in the room all looked at one another and Stone’s mom got up holding a hand to her chest.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  “The maids are screaming,” Stone said absently. “Corral everybody in the study. It’s the easiest to defend.” He picked up my boots and brace, wrapped me in my robe and picked me up. His father barked orders; dispatching the remaining guards as we hurried through the dark house.

  The study was a small windowless square room in the middle of the first floor. I use small as a relative term. It was the size of my old cabin, but small in comparison to the other rooms in the house. I was settled on a chair and started putting on my boots and brace. If I had to meet them I would meet them on my feet. The door opened and guards thrust in several sniveling maids clinging to each other. Stone and his father took reports and gave orders. Someone brought in a load of weapons and Stone handed me a dagger which I hid in my boot.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked him, grabbing his hand before he could walk away. He crouched down in front of me.

  ‘We don’t know a lot yet.’

  ‘What do you know?’

  ‘They’re here. So far they’ve taken over the stables and are working through the main house.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘That was my first thought. We’re not on our own this time. We have household forces and the city guard.’

  ‘Do we even know if someone got out to tell them?’

  ‘No, but we’ll know soon. Relax; I’ve run operations like this before. We have it under control.’

  ‘The house has been attacked before?’

  ‘Not here,’ he smiled. ‘But if I can defend an overrun palace I can handle a town house.’

  ‘I wish I had your confidence.’

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘With my life. Just tell me what is going on. It makes me nervous when I can’t understand what is happening.’

  ‘I’ll do my best. Stay off your foot,’ with that he got up, walking back to a pile of papers on a table in the corner. A house under siege was a lot of nervous waiting and jittery people, but not a lot of action. Guards would come to the door periodically bringing reports or people. Stone or his father would give an order or two and they were gone again. It was almost boring if it weren’t for the fact that my captors were trying to find me again. I held no illusions; they were here for me and possibly Stone, and they would kill anyone that saw them in the process.

  Then the injured started coming; reminding us this wasn’t a civilized take over but a direct attack by ruthless men. The women set up a makeshift hospital tending to the wounds. The injuries were mostly superficial, defensive wounds, but managed to look scary with a lot of blood. The boyfriend of one of the maids came in with a head wound and the girl started screaming and fussing over him like he was dying. I couldn’t hear her but her manner was putting me on edge.

  I got up abruptly and took a glass of water over to the screaming woman. She reached for it but I held it away and dumped it on the man’s head washing away all the blood and revealing a very small gash on his forehead. I put a cloth in her hand and pushed it on the wound while she stared open mouthed at me.

  “He. Won’t. Die.” I said hoping she understood and started checking on the other wounded. At least it was something to occupy my mind while Stone ran back and forth with weapons, orders, paper, etc. I was shocked at the lack of basic medical training among the staff. Maybe it was growing up poor in the woods where a healer for every bump and bruise was unheard of, but how did these people no
t know how to stop bleeding?

  Disgusted I got up in search of paper. I tried to ask Stone but he brushed me off saying not now, so I tried his mother. She looked at me concerned and tried very hard to understand me. I made a writing gesture and pointed to the paper. She smiled and got me some paper and a pen. Small miracles. I took it with a smile and wrote down instructions on stopping bleeding and basic wound care. I drew pictures where necessary and handed it back to her. She stared at me, surprised, and then corralled the girls explaining to them what to do. I thought she had grown up poor, why didn’t she know these skills? I paced through the bodies and corrected mistakes with my hands. When the next lot came in they all headed over to me.

  I had finished tying a bandage when Stone caught me around the waist. He looked at the wounded and then back at me raising his eyebrows. I shrugged.

  ‘Why are you walking?’ he asked with an exasperated smile.

  ‘Keeps my mind off everything.’

  ‘Where did you learn to do this?’

  ‘Are you kidding? My father was a trapper. I spent my whole life in the woods. We couldn’t call a healer for little things, or even big things all the time. This is very basic wound care. In fact, I’m shocked that no one here knows these things.’ He laughed.

  ‘It’s not as basic as you think. I think your father taught you more than you thought he did.’

  ‘How is everything?’

  ‘Not good,’ a guard walked over and handed him some basic armor and weapons. He nodded his head, accepting them before turning back to me. ‘Two have been killed. They’ve infiltrated the first floor and managed to cordon off our forces. They are between us and them. We can probably take them down if we can get through and release our men.’

  ‘You’re not going, Stone.’

  ‘How did you know I was going?’

  ‘I know you. I know how you think and I know you wouldn’t have taken the time to come over here unless you were going.’