Mistress of Helena

Chapter 5

The fort’s gates groaned open through the soup of mud and water, aided by the concerted push of several soldiers. Carrack strode out without hesitation to meet the waiting islanders. Cloaked in sodden, dark attire, the elderly and middle-aged women were as described. The older woman looked frail, her hunched form seeming to crumble under the weight of a drenched cloak that was a few sizes too large. A tender smile twisted the many lines etching her face. As Carrack approached, she bowed slightly, her grey locks falling to obscure her visage.

“Greetings,” she began in a shaky voice, extending a hand. But the younger woman promptly lowered it.

“Enough, Mama,” she chided sharply. “Don’t reach for them; they’ll mistake it for a weapon and get us shot.”

“Oh dear,” the older woman mumbled, recoiling slightly.

Overhearing the exchange, Carrack motioned for calm. “That’s not how things work here.”

“Maybe here, maybe with you, but it’s a different story in town, with different people,” the younger woman spat back.

“My soldiers aren’t trained to behave that way,” Carrack retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “If I hear of such misconduct, those responsible will find themselves facing the firing squad.”

“Hmph,” the younger woman scoffed. “Just like my brother, then? The penalty for murder and theft are one and the same?”

Carrack found himself in an uncomfortable predicament. He disagreed with her accusation, yet he couldn’t deny its truth. He held his tongue, searching for the right words, then settled on a simple acknowledgement: “Times are hard.”

“So they are,” the elderly woman concurred, her voice laced with an undercurrent of forgiveness and a desire to move forward.

“Harder for us. We don’t all have stores of food and the safety of walls, guns, and knives,” the younger woman said.

Carrack shot her a piercing look and pulled back his cloak. He lifted his shirt to reveal his belt. “See this?” He pointed to a series of extra notches he had created. “I’ve had to make these myself with one of those knives you mentioned. I’ve lost so much weight, I can’t even wear my own damn clothes properly.”

The younger woman scowled, biting back her response. That’s when Carrack noticed the older woman clutching her hand tightly, her knuckles whitened with the strain. A harsh glare was exchanged between the two women.

“Let’s continue with why we’re here,” the older woman interjected, addressing them both. “We have wounds to heal, not new ones to open.” She paused, seeming to lose her train of thought.

“Roger,” the younger woman filled in the gap. “We’re here for Roger. Your son. My brother.” She looked to Carrack, her voice quivering more each time she repeated, “My brother … My brother …”

“Yes, Mr. Harrier,” Carrack mumbled under his breath. “So, I’m to understand you’re the mother and sister of the deceased.”

“The murdered, yes,” the younger woman retorted with a sharp edge to her voice.

“Alright,” Carrack’s eye twitched at her remark, “I’ll need your names for the process of handing over the body.”

“I’m Elenore and this is my daughter, Mary,” the older woman replied. “How long will this take? We’ve traveled a fair distance in this weather and my feet are aching. Old age, what can one do?”

“Of course, yes,” Carrack acknowledged her, glancing back at the gate, silently praying for the sight of the body being brought out. “Unfortunately, we may not have the body ready at the moment.”

“Ready?” Mary questioned. “What preparations are needed? He’s just going to be buried.”

“We clean the body and prepare it for funeral rites, in accordance with the law,” Carrack explained, a touch of hesitancy in his voice. “We have to ensure that—”

“That you clean up your dirty work?” Mary interrupted, her voice sharp.

“Mary!” Elenore snapped with surprising anger before addressing Carrack in a calmer tone. “We aren’t particular about how Roger is prepared. I’d prefer to wash him myself, one last time, like when he was a baby. It’s the final thing I wish to do for my son.” Her voice wavered toward the end, eyes welling up with tears.

Carrack released a heavy sigh, looking back to the gate which remained ominously empty. “I’m not certain they’d have completed the organ removal by now. But—”

“Please, just leave them in there,” Elenore interjected. Her last words cut through Carrack more deeply than he’d anticipated. He had secretly hoped both women would be hostile; the mother’s lamenting plea weighed heavily on him.

“Wait here,” Carrack glanced back at the gate one last time before heading toward the fort. “Give me a minute.”

He made his way back to the gate and beckoned a nearby soldier. A few hurried over to him, saluting sharply.

“Find Alaina. Tell her to wrap up the body and bring it out here,” he instructed. The soldiers saluted again before dashing off into the fort. Carrack turned back to see the two island women still near their cart, engaged in quiet conversation. He gestured toward them and shouted, “Just a few more minutes!”

Elenore responded with a confirming wave.

Each passing minute felt painfully drawn out. A restless energy gripped Carrack, causing him to pace back and forth in front of the gate. The mud, thick and viscous, clung to his boots like quicksand. The effort to lift his feet strained his muscles and at one point, a jarring twinge ran up his hip as he struggled to free his foot. Periodically, he’d glance over at the women, their continued presence stirring an unease within him that grew with each passing moment.

Foeham joined Carrack at the gate, breaking the monotonous waiting. “I heard you want the body out now. I don’t think Alaina’s done yet.”

“No, she’s not. And she’ll likely be pretty pissed for rushing this,” Carrack admitted.

“You mentioned wanting a word with me?” Foeham queried.

“I do,” Carrack said, “once we’ve settled this matter.”

A profound silence stretched between the two men as they waited. Finally, the body arrived, borne on a stretcher by two soldiers. It was wrapped in a white sheet that was rapidly soaking up the rain. Carrack signaled the men to follow him to the cart where the women were waiting. They presented the body to Elenore for her inspection. She gave a silent nod of acknowledgment, and the soldiers were instructed to move the body to the cart.

Carrack didn’t know what to expect; certainly not gratitude, but perhaps a few words, or even an insult would have felt more fitting. But there was only silence. As soon as the body was secured onto the cart, Mary took the reins and led it away, Elenore trailing closely behind.

A thought crossed Carrack’s mind to offer help with transporting the body, but something within him held him back. As the women navigated their cart down the hill and out of view, Carrack turned his attention back to the fort.

But before stepping through the gate, he paused to address Foeham. “See me inside.”