CHAPTER XI
Haldora crossed the mountains that separated two countries hopping these mountains would keep the Christians with their torches away. She walked day and night, for weeks, before she could have a glimpse of this new land. The name of it she did not know, but she was unhappy to fins this new land did not possess such dense woods where she could hide. Now real fear shadowed her way. She felt naked when she walked, unable to hide when someone came close. The roads were busy and Haldora stayed away from them, she much preferred to walk through the endless fields of olive trees. The trees were so small, she could almost touch the top of them and that was her only source of entertainment.
Haldora came to an abandoned house, at the centre of a plain. Waiting near it for a few days, she was certain no one lived there or near there. She made it her own. For weeks she would live in this house, meditating and fearing to be caught. She could feel no one around her but the voices. Months were now passed in half-felt bliss.
One night of clear moonlight, Haldora came to plain and raised her arms to the moon and for a long time prayed as she had prayed on that stone circle years before, she felt her connection as strong as before and her memoirs were turned into tears as she reviewed her life at that place. She was sure those had been the best moments of her time. As she stood on this form of contemplation, she was sighted from a far by passing men on horses. They drew near to get a better look and witness her speak in her native tongue to the skies. They were frightened by the harshness of her sounds and crossed themselves as they heard. Haldora lowered her hands and let her head fall to the front, as she allowed all of the energy to flow out of her body. In this instant of rest the men found an opportunity to seize her. Haldora did not even understood what had happened, she saw herself on a horse, with rope around her wrists and cloth on her face.
She was shoved into a small and damp cell, which reminded her of her convent days, except this place had the smell of death and burnt flesh all around. She could hear twice as much voices in her head, they spoke a different language and Haldora was unable to fully understand them, she could understand they spoke in fear and anger. Haldora took some time to understand what was going on, but from the screams of the voices and the stench in the air, she understood she had fallen into the hands of the people she had spent so many years running from. She knelt down and began to pray in the Latin tongue, she knew she was being watched on the other side of the door. She paid no attention to the rats and insects that passed by her while she prayed.
Two men, a friar and a man of higher class were together by her door, listening to her pray. They spoke her native language, they seemed to discuss something. Finally the friar opened the door and they both entered. Haldora did not stop her praying. The friar spoke in Latin first, though she could understand she pretended not to. The other men then spoke in the French tongue and more then recognize the language she could recognize the voice. Haldora looked to find she was in the presence of her warrior, he was much older then before, but was there with her nonetheless. She answered his question for her name.
- Isabeaux.
- Isabeaux. Were you out last night with your arms raised to the moon? – He translated for the friar.
- I was praying for God to take me away from my misery. – She answered, raising her arms up.
- Witnesses said they heard you speaking in tongues. – He translated.
- I was speaking in the language of my native land.
He looked to the friar and then came closer to her.
- If you want to save yourself, it is best you tell me your story. Where do you come from?
She sat on the ground, near his foot.
- I came from a village in the land of the Anglos, across the sea. I came here after I left the convent.
- A convent?
- Yes. I was raised in one. I left and then I came here. I have no money, no family and no home, sir, I was praying to God to take me away. – She told.
- Where’s your family?
- They are death, sir. What’s going to happen to me, sir?
He drew away from her and took the friar out of the cell, closing the door behind them. Haldora was left inside, alone. She resumed her praying and was not silent until the break of day.
The friar and the higher class man had a meeting with another men, he wore a red gown and seemed to be a high authority in that community. They both reported what they had heard from Haldora’s mouth and were confronted by the facts related by the witnesses.
- If she says she was in a convent, there will be records of it, no doubt. – Concluded the man in red. – There is only one place to pray to God and only one language. I don’t know if we can believe what she says. The devil has many faces and uses many deceptions.
- I will send a letters to search for an Isabeaux. - The friar stated as he left the room.
- Thank you my good man, for your interpretation of her language. You will be rewarded for the service to the Church.
- Thank you. I was wondering if you will need me to continue to talk to her. Tell her the charges.
- You are a good man. She will know her charges when the time is right, rest assured.
Many months were passed with Haldora praying duly. She would eat the rotting food she was given and would ask grace before forcing it down her throat. She would say mass when she heard the bells of the neighboring church. At night she would pretended to sleep. She would talk to the rats around her to pass the time and would sometimes meditate. From time to time the friar would come to hear her confession, she would beg for God’s forgiveness, she call herself a sinner and would pound her fists on her chest blaming herself for all her faults. She would often say she repented, though she never said of what. She was eventually put to work for the sisters of a convent near by. She would clean the rectory and would attend mass and praying hours. She would have to work her sins away; till it was confirmed she was indeed baptized and had repented.
Haldora would see her warrior, when mass was over trying desperately to scribble on pieces of paper, while looking at the statue of the Holly Mother. One day she approached him and sat close to him. He threw her an untrusting eye.
- Do you write stories about our Holly Mother? – She asked shyly.
- No. She gives me inspiration.
- What do you write about? – She asked and every word she said seemed to calm him down.
- Just stories.
- Can I read one?
- You wouldn’t understand them, there are in another language. – He got up to leave.
- Thank you. – She said. –For talking for me.
He crossed himself and left.
Haldora got back to work.
The next day, as Haldora was cleaning the seats of the Church, she found a stack of papers written in Latin. She took them to her bosom and hid them in her dress. After her work was done she sat by her window and read the papers in the dark, as if she had a candle by her.
«These are the stories of a poor Italian man who came to the realm of the Spaniards to find a better life. », said the first sheet.
The story was one of love and Haldora could not put it down the whole night. It told of two lovers who were divided by a wall and were unable to see each other, but still loved each other. Haldora hoped as she had never allowed herself to hope that she would now be able to be with her long lost and awaited warrior. At the end of the pages was not the long waited ending but another note. « The confessionary. » Haldora smiled as she had not done in a while.
In the morning after first mass she entered the confessionary and there remained quiet till she heard someone enter on the other side. The small door was open and she could see through the cracks that it was him. He was impatient and a tad frightened.
- It was a beautiful story.
- It’s just a roman story, told a thousand times. I don’t know why I showed it to you. Maybe…because you’re also a foreigner in this country. Maybe I thought you’d understand. – He explained.
- You write beautifully.
- I wanted to write something original.
There was a silence. She could feel his warm breath on her hand and he tried to make her out from the cracks.
- Meet me outside. – She requested, running away afterwards.
He walked off the church and circled it looking for Haldora. He found her at one of the back passages. She pulled him inside. He could feel her coldness, which sickened him.
- I want to tell you a story. It’s close to the one you wrote. There was this girl, she loved a man, but their love was forbidden. She was going to be a sister. He would write poems and leave them buried in the dirty outside the Church. She would put it in her Bible. She would pray to forgive him, but she couldn’t.
- What happened to her?
- I don’t know. You finish it. Just remember their love. Her love.
She took his hand and placed on her bosom.
- Many loves live here.
His expression turned suddenly. He grabbed her dress and ripped it open, showing her scar that had shriveled even more with the passing of time. He grab her by the arm immediately and nearly dragged her to the jail where she had been. Once there she was exposed to the authorities as the possessor of a mark. The definitive sign of the devil.
No prays nor words could dissuade the priests. They dragged her to a chamber where the smell of death was greater and the pieces of rotting flesh were still on the ground. She was teased with hot coals and though she knew none of those objects would hurt her she became increasingly angrier. Men from every side told her what each instrument would do, but what pained her more was to see her warrior, who only moments before was so fond of her shout to see her hurt.
Without anyone knowing the fire on the candles and one the ground began to grow and the room became more lit. When this was noticed the room was in flames and the door was unreachable. Men ran from side to side, coughing from the smoke and attempting to leave, dodging the falling pieces of the wooden roof. Haldora stood in the centre of the room, watching as her aggressors as they burnt. A scream was heard louder than the others over the crackling sound of burning wood and the sound of the caving building. She turned and her warrior was now a living torch.
Concentration… Blowing cool wind… Moldy smell…
