A/N: Elizabet's sad backstory part 2
058: Chains
Calvin pulled Elizabet down from his horse. He held her hand and led her inside Claymound Jail. His Deputy, John, sat back in his chair with his feet on the desk. John raised an eyebrow at Elizabet as Calvin walked in.
"I'll tell you later," Calvin sighed. He took out his key and opened the doors that led up to the jail staff quarters upstairs. They all shared a kitchen and commons area lined with bedrooms and a single Constable's apartment made up of an office and bedroom. Three Deputies and two Deputies' wives shared the space with him. Berta, who had married Deputy Dillon in her third marriage, had grown children from her two previous husbands and no interest in hosting her grandchildren at her own home. She'd travel to visit them in Roscrea three or four times a year instead. Berta ran the jail's kitchen with an iron fist and creative concoctions. Like Lyla, she could make a little go a long way. The other woman that lived there was Ingrid. Ingrid had married Deputy Max and Calvin firmly believed the couple wouldn't stay there long. Max was simply building experience before moving on to a city where peacekeepers were put up in actual apartments, where seniority could entitle him to an extra room for whatever children they had. The third Deputy was John. Calvin and John had started at Claymound Jail about the same time and had no real plans to leave in the future. Claymound was home to both of them. If he was being honest, the only ones Calvin really needed to keep the place going were John and Berta. Dillon, Max, and Ingrid were just surplus.
Calvin carried Elizabet the length of the upstairs and down the backstairs to the kitchen. The only path below was through the cells and, though Elizabet may be facing growing up there, he felt certain she wasn't quite ready to see that. Berta looked up from her pot of watery soup and raised an eyebrow.
"That's Lyla's girl, ain't it?" she asked. Calvin nodded as he set Elizabet down on the counter.
"She's lost everything," he whispered. Berta's eyebrows went up and she nodded.
"Ingrid, take over this pot."
Ingrid, the timid younger woman, gratefully took over stirring. Ingrid always jumped at any chore that kept her away from the cells, as though Claymound Jail was full of ruthless criminals. They saw dangerous people from time to time but overall the cells remained half-empty even on the busiest nights of the year and the prisoners that were there were harmless.
Berta took an apple from the basket they'd serve the prisoners dinner from and handed to Elizabet before she began her inspection. Calvin mentally slapped himself as Elizabet took a bite from the apple and then promptly sucked out its juice. There were apple trees all around the river he'd stopped at to clean her up. Giving her one would have both given her energy and helped soothe her dehydrated throat.
"I've got her," Berta assured Calvin. "You go do whatever it is you need to do."
Calvin nodded. He took out his keys and walked over to the door leading to the cells. He needed to send John out to Lyla's farmstead. John could handle the paperwork associated with the crime that had happened there. It didn't require an investigation, Calvin knew exactly who was at fault. Trenton must have gotten mixed up in the wrong crowd again, and the bastard didn't even survive so Calvin could get revenge.
Calvin walked down the line of cells from the kitchen towards the front. He listened for the familiar catch of the door behind him as he walked but never heard it. He turned halfway down the walkway, expecting to see they needed to oil the latch. Instead he saw the door swing shut just as Berta came rushing towards it. Already he could see the handle jiggle as she fiddled with her key on the other side.
Elizabet had tried to follow him. She came to a sudden halt as she stared with wide eyes at rows of cells. Jackson and Elizabet knew their uncle was a peacekeeper, but they'd never been let in on this particular part of his job.
Of course, Elizabet froze in reach of Claymound Jail's one long term resident.
The other inmates called him Mad Mortie. Mortie never did anything bad enough to earn himself worse than time in the local jail, but he was good at meeting that line. In Calvin's opinion, Mortie never did anything that heinous either. He never seriously harmed a person's body and never took anything worth so much it affected a family's livelihood as a whole. He was a petty thief who took handfuls of this and filled his bag with that. His main trouble came when he targeted visitors. His last victim turned out to be some representive of King Sean, earning Mortie five years in the jail's hospitality.
To Calvin, Mad Mortie was mostly harmless. He'd even used up a favor to keep Mortie in Claymound rather than sending him onto Roscrea for his term. Roscrea's dungeons were full of genuine criminals and guards who wouldn't tolerate Mortie's…well, madness. Calvin wasn't sure how much of Mortie's antics were purposeful rule breaking and how much were truly madness but to a little girl, he was terrifying. Mortie, being Mortie, fixated on Elizabet and came as close as he could to her. She clutched her apple to her chest, frozen with fear. Calvin immediately rushed to intervene.
"Give that to me, girlie," Mortie cackled. "I'm hungry too."
His reach was just enough he could brush his fingertips against Elizabet's hand. Elizabet shrieked. She fell back in sobs as Mortie reached farther.
"Give it to me! I want it! Give it to me!"
"Get away from her, Mortie!" Calvin shouted.
"I want the apple!"
Calvin put himself between Elizabet and Mortie. He slammed his hand against Mortie's bars. "Leave her alone!"
"I want the apple, Calvin! I want the apple!"
"Mortie, I swear…"
Before Calvin could finish his threat, the apple with barely a bite taken from it rolled across the floor into Mortie's cell. Mortie took the apple victoriously and retreated to the back wall of his cell. Calvin spun around. The woman in the cell across from Mortie had come to the front of hers and knelt down in front of Elizabet. She reached with one hand through her own bars to stroke Elizabet's hair. At first Calvin was ready to yell at her and snatch his niece away, but he realized she was comforting her. Elizabet's wails reduced to silent sobs as she trembled on the floor.
Calvin went to them and knelt next to his niece. He gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her out of the woman's reach into his arms. Elizabet wrapped her tiny arms around his neck as he lifted her up. The woman stood up too. Calvin raised an eyebrow. Her hands and feet were shackled together. She'd had to uncomfortably lunge forward to reach Elizabet, as one of her feet was connected by a chain to the back of her cell. Calvin stared at her. This treatment was reserved for their rare guests with dangerous charges against them.
Berta finally joined them. She looked from the woman in the cell to Calvin.
"Berta, when did this woman arrive?" he asked coldly.
"Yesterday afternoon," Berta answered.
So that's why Calvin hadn't seen her before. He'd taken three days off for his visit to Lyla's farmstead. The woman stared back at him, never breaking his gaze.
"I think the child wants to stay with you," Berta added. Calvin snapped back from his own thoughts. He still had Elizabet. She had just experienced one of Mortie's episodes and she had been trapped in a chest while her life went up in flames around her.
"Tell John to come see me as soon as someone comes to relieve him," Calvin instructed her. Berta nodded. Calvin carried Elizabet back through the kitchen and upstairs to his apartment. He lay her down on his bed and pulled a blanket over her. "You need rest," he whispered to her. "I'll leave your door open, alright? I'll be in the office just there."
Elizabet nodded sleepily. She opened her mouth but no words came. Instead she coughed, hacking up whatever remained in her lungs.
"Right," he muttered softly. "Your rabbit…um…"
He was glad he'd saved her toy from the chest but as of now it was still in his saddlebags. He still needed to tend his horse outside.
By some grace, Berta joined them holding just the bag he needed. He took it from her and found not only the rabbit but her book as well. Calvin handed the book to Berta and then tucked the rabbit under the blanket with Elizabet.
"Berta's going to take care of you," he promised her. "I've got to go downstairs, but Berta's going to take good care of you. I'll be back when you wake up."
Elizabet nodded sleepily. Calvin tucked her in once more and nodded to Berta. She nodded back and Calvin walked down the front stairs. John was sitting up now, already pouring over the paperwork that went with Lyla's home being burned to the ground. He looked up.
"I'm so sorry, boss. Lyla meant a lot to all of us."
Calvin rubbed his forehead as he collapsed on a bench usually meant for visitors. "Why couldn't she have fallen for you, John?"
"If I remember correctly it's because you told her I was a troll who snores too loudly."
"You are a troll who snores too loudly."
John chuckled lightly. He nodded seriously. "Truly, Calvin. I'm sorry."
"What do we do, John?" Calvin sighed. "This is above our resources."
"You send a request for intervention to Roscrea," John answered. "Maybe they'll send one of those agents we hear rumors about."
Calvin shook his head. "Those are a myth."
"Even so, the crown will send someone."
Calvin sighed again as he stood. "Start the paperwork on that, will you? I need to have a chat with one of our guests."
John nodded and Calvin went back to the cells. Not even the regulars greeted him as he walked back down the middle path. They all quietly stared at the feet. Calvin wondered if they'd figured out why Elizabet, whom some of them knew as Claymound locals, had come inside the jail. He walked down to the woman who had comforted Elizabet. She looked up at him as he paused in front of her. She'd sat on the ground after the incident. Mortie still huddled across from her finishing off Elizabet's apple.
"Stand," he ordered.
The woman stood with difficulty, he noticed. She held a bar for balance as she waited for him to continue.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a softer tone. She had, after all, shut Mortie up and calmed Elizabet.
"Nothing you'd understand," she murmured.
"Save me the time of digging out your file," Calvin continued though he still felt concern for her. "What's your name?"
"Tammy Burks."
"What's your crime?"
"I killed my husband."
She answered with so little emotion Calvin had to remind herself she'd just helped Elizabet to grasp that she still had a heart.
"Yesterday?"
"I was caught yesterday, yes. Deputy Max brought me in."
Both of them, and several others, jumped when Mortie slammed the apple core against his bars. "I want another, Calvin! I want another!"
"Shut up, Mortie," Calvin snapped.
"I want another!"
Calvin took out his keys and opened the door of Tammy's cell. He went in and made her face the back wall. He released her foot and took her arm. He led her to the walkway and back towards the offices used for everything from questioning to private visits to filling out papers. She stumbled as she walked and he took both her arms, hoping to give her more balance as she tried to keep up with him wearing shackles. He quickly noticed it wasn't just the shackles keeping her from walking properly. Twice she reached to grip her stomach, the way Lyla had when she was pregnant.
He had her sit in a chair and then he closed the door. He sat across from her. He leaned on the table, staring at her for several moments. A tear slipped out the corner of her eye. She wiped it away quickly.
"Are you pregnant?" he whispered. Tammy shook her head as more tears swelled up. Calvin nodded as he begun to understand more of her story. "Is that why you killed him?"
It took Tammy a couple of moments before she pulled herself together. She covered her face with her hands as the sobs came. She didn't have to answer him now. He'd seen variations of her story before.
"How long ago?" he asked gently, as though he were speaking to Lyla.
"A week," Tammy managed to force out. "I wasn't that far along."
Calvin nodded again. "First one?"
"Third. My first two…they're with my husband's parents. They…they're not going to let me have them back."
"Did he hit you when you carried them?"
Tammy hesitated.
"You can tell me."
"Sometimes," she whispered. "Not as badly though…I mean…I don't…"
"Did he drink?"
Tammy nodded.
"Did he run around with Trenton Williams?"
Tammy paused and then shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Not recently…Trenton stopped coming around a long time ago. He wanted to be a family man. He paid off his debts and stopped coming altogether. My husband…he was with Victor Eula a lot."
Calvin froze. So Trenton really had turned a new leaf. He'd been a better man than Calvin gave him credit for. Guilt weighed Calvin down.
"They…they…" Tammy stammered. "They…said I'd hang…"
Calvin crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "Tammy, why did you help the little girl just now?"
Tammy shrugged. "She…reminded me of my son her age…she shouldn't be here, Constable. She's just a little girl."
Calvin nodded. "You're right. She shouldn't be here."
Calvin would have to make arrangements for Lizzie soon. The longer she stayed at the jail the more trauma she'd have to endure, especially with Mortie serving five years. But for now he felt drawn to help Tammy.
"What can I do to reward you, Tammy?" he asked gently. "I can't let you go free, but I'll help you in any way I can."
Tammy held up her hands. "Do I have to wear these? I have nowhere to go. I couldn't get out of the cell if I wanted to…I don't know how…"
Calvin sighed. "I'm sorry, Tammy."
Tammy put her hands down and stared at the desk. He could see kindness was rare in her life.
"I'll have Berta find someone who can make sure you're in good health," he finally told her. "I can also put you in a cell with a bed."
Tammy nodded. Calvin walked around the table and helped her stand, this time taking care not to rush her. He walked her down the far wall to seldom used cells meant for those in the king's service waiting for punishment. Calvin had to open them up more often for prisoners who proved too violent to put with the others rather than those in the royal service. The cells there were more comfortable compared to the bare space separated by bars it he main area. Calvin took her inside the first one and helped her sit on the bed against the back wall.
"Thank you," Tammy whispered. Calvin had never had a prisoner thank him before. He left the cell, shutting its door behind him. He opened the window so she wouldn't be totally isolated and walked back to the kitchen where Ingrid still dutifully stirred her soup.
"I put the woman on the back wall," he told her. "See to it she gets an extra portion."
With that Calvin walked upstairs back to his apartment. Elizabet looked up from her book to him as he entered. He sat on the bed with her and stroked her hair.
"It's time for you to sleep," he told her.
Elizabet looked down at her book. She had it turned to the back, where the author had assembled character profiles. She pointed to Alieah. Calvin knew Alieah's place in the Flynn Masque stories well. Unlike other characters, which were shameless reflections of family members, Alieah was inspired by a real woman Lyndon had met on his travels throughout Hibernia. Both character and inspiration were gentle women fierce enough to steal from the rich and give to the poor. Flynn usually saw Alieah when she was in jail. He'd go to her looking for advice and resources almost every time she appeared. In one he bailed her out and had her join in on his quest to rescue Princess Valerie. It was in that particular story Alieah was revealed to be more than just a petty thief.
Before Berta or Calvin could stop her, Elizabet ripped out Alieah's page. Calvin's mouth dropped. Before he could start lecturing her about destroying such an expensive book, Elizabet put the page in his hands and pointed to the floor.
"What?" Calvin asked.
"I think she wants you to give that to the woman downstairs," Berta translated. Elizabet nodded. Calvin tucked the page away and nodded.
"Alright Elizabet. I'll give it to her, but you need to sleep now."
Elizabet settled underneath the blanket.
"Physically she'll heal," Berta whispered once Elizabet drifted off. "It will be some time before she recovers emotionally. Calvin, she can't stay here."
Calvin sighed. "I know."
"Where will you take her?"
"The only place I can take her is the orphanage. I'll need time to find a new family for her."
Berta nodded. "Perhaps its best she gets a fresh start altogether."
"Perhaps," Calvin repeated. "But for now she stays with me. I'll get us a room at the inn tomorrow so she doesn't have to experience life here."
"Poor child. The odds are against her now."
Calvin sighed heavily. "I know."
