Author's Note: This is a very important chapter with several major plot twists so I hope you will read it carefully and review, of course. :) something interesting also happens between Joachim and Walter as well. *wink*
Disclaimer: none of the characters in LoI belong to me and are copyrighted by Konami.
Special Thanks
Rahar Moonfire: As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I am eager to know what you think of this chapter in particular... (heh)
Other thanks also go to anyone who is reading this story...feel free to leave comments if you like it (or don't...constructive criticism is also appreciated)
Chapter XI
Walking in the sunlight gave him enough optimism to calm down. The streets of the village were nearly deserted, except for the occasional peasant that passed him by giving a sour glance. Joachim tired to ignore the looks he received as best he could, but always kept a tense hand near the hilt of his sword. He never imagined he would be endangered if he walked the streets during the daytime; however the hatred the villagers directed toward their lord was formidable.
After wandering through the small roadways, he happened upon a modest home complete with painted shutters and a thatched roof. It was a simple home like many others, belonging to peasantry with average income, but the one he sought inside was beyond average by every form of the meaning. The lord walked to the worn front door of the home and knocked several times before a man with jet-black hair and a thick beard answered. The man had a thin face and a tall, lanky frame, though a proud glint reflected within his eyes that stared unenthusiastically at the finely dressed lord.
"May I help you, milord?" His gruff voice spoke not so much a question as it was an abrupt statement.
"I wish to speak with your daughter, Luciano. Is Catherine home?" Joachim's pale figure tried to advance forward, but he could not make the first step before the grumpy man held up a hand and leaned on the doorframe to block the entrance into the home.
The man's heavy eyes flared indignantly. "My daughter is not feeling well. Your presence here will only disrupt her, so remove yourself from my sight, boy."
"Excuse me?" Once again the fiery chasm inside the depths of his pupils blazed, like oil ignited by a torch. It occurred to him then that despite hating his title he hated disrespect even more, for he seemed to receive all too little of it from his subjects. Without warning he slammed his hand on the doorframe next to the man's face, whilst his lips curled with bitter vehemence. "I am not here to talk to you. I am here to see your daughter, and if she is ill you must step aside and let me pass! I am the lord of this village, and I will not tolerate your uncouth behavior-"
A cold laugh parted from the man's lips, and a thin hand stroked the short but kempt beard covering his face. "You are not the lord of my house, young man. I have traveled almost all my life until settling here, and there is no man who can claim his lordship over me, for the self-serving requests of the nobility is far from intimidating."
"Is this intimidating enough then?" Joachim withdrew his sword and in the blink of an eye it was pressed to the man's jugular. With a single clean swipe, he had the ability to cut his head from his neck no less quickly than a butcher slaughtering a cow.
"You'll have to do more than that to scare me." A twinge of amusement glinted in the man's eyes. "You nobles care nothing for the peasants whose blood is spilt in your name. By the by, it would be unwise for you to threaten me when your own subjects want your head more than I at the moment."
Joachim's eyes widened, and after an uncomfortable pause, he withdrew the blade and reluctantly slid it into its sheathe. All eyes were upon him, and just a single foolish move would make his own blood flow over the ground instead. He knew what he did was ridiculous, for the man was Catherine's father, and had never approved of Catherine spending time with him. Why his own father requested that particular man's daughter to visit him during the times he was ill he did not wish to know, but one long glimpse of Catherine's window on the second floor added to the dire need he felt to see her. It was a need he could not exactly explain, but it came in the deepest form of dread, and would not cease bothering him until he and Catherine were in each other's company. It was that man who prevented it from happening, and he maintained his thinning composure only out of respect for the lady he desired to see. "Please…you must let me see her." He whispered earnestly under his breath, and for a brief second cast his eyes on the ground. "I will not trouble you. I only wish to see your daughter and aid her any way I can. You do not understand…she means a great deal to me."
"Aid her?" The man shifted in the doorframe, his voice and critical eyes blatantly scoffing the appearance of the pale young lord. "What can you possibly do for her? Take a look in a mirror young man, and see that your illness has always led you to death's doorstep. It is probably your fault she caught whatever disease you have and become ill-"
"Hold your tongue, papa!" From behind the man in the shadows, a pale face emerged, and the young woman stepped into the sunlight. "Joachim, what are you doing here?"
Her voice was faint, but her eyes were bright, as if his presence had brought her some much needed companionship. Catherine's normally neat hair looked untidy, and wrapped around her shoulders and front was a long black shawl lined by thick tassels that swept in the gentle breeze. With careful steps, she slid passed the thin man and accepted Joachim's extended hand. A smile finally crept across his lips while he gazed into her astonished green eyes, relishing within himself the sparkle of joy she tried to hide. "Your father told me you were ill." The news still caused tingles of anxiety to flood through his chest, and even his steady gaze could not withhold the suggestion of alarm in his voice. "Are you alright, Catherine? You need not trouble yourself with my concerns, but I promised I would see you again. Admittedly it has been months since our last meeting. I could not delay any longer."
"I am feeling much better now, so fear not. It was just a spell, and I think I shall be fine." She beamed at him weakly, and he felt her hold around his hand tightened when she stepped next to him. "Care to walk with me? A bit of fresh air would do me good. The weather this December is so mild I swear winter shall forget to show itself!"
"Do not be so certain, my dear." The man mumbled, and upon locking eyes with the delicate looking lord, his stance in the doorway stiffened like a soldier brought to attention. Joachim could do nothing except avoid the man's probing eyes, which glared upon their coupled hands in palpable detest. Nevertheless, he realized Catherine knew of his discomfort, and noticed she made a great show of ensuring their hands never parted. Her fingers felt a tad bit colder than what he was accustomed to, however her smile wavered upon hearing her father continue. "You should remain in bed for the day. Yet, knowing you as well as I do, you would rather listen him more than I. Suit yourself then, but you must return within the hour."
"I apologize, papa. I wish you would show respect in the presence of Lord Armster – at least for the sake of his father, God rest his soul."
"My respect is shown when it has been earned. This young man is far too reckless compared to his father. You best not indulge in the noble life too much my dear, for you are not one of them – and certainly not like this feeble looking creature."
The cruel glare directed at Joachim's pale figure intensified, but Catherine boldly returned the glare before pulling the quavering lord by the hand. "Come, Joachim. Don't listen to him; he always gets moody whenever he does not eat breakfast."
She gave her father a deliberate scowl before they walked off down the street. The day was calm and the streets were silent, and Joachim could hear his footsteps resonate faintly over the road. "Your father never took a liking to me." He muttered, but noticed she seemed unbothered by that fact. Rather than dwelling upon it, a renewed smile spread across her lips to find his anxious expression did not fade.
"There are plenty of things to be happy about." She whispered gently, her fingers twining between his whilst her other hand brushed aside the loose strands of her thick raven hair. He noticed something in her voice was unmistakably cheery, and every so often as they walked, she pulled her long shawl tighter over her shoulders.
"Are you cold?" Joachim lifted an arm to wrap it around her shoulders, though hesitated when she chuckled quietly and waved him away. The sun's light cascaded through the streets and allowed a trace of extra warmth to circulate through the crisp atmosphere. His careful eyes scanned the length of her shawl, noting how the edges were moth eaten, and untended holes gaped through parts of the fabric. "My Catherine," He exclaimed in lighthearted mock. "Why are you wearing that old thing? It looks like it would serve better as a dish rag than as a shawl – it has so many holes and looks so unshapely I can't imagine you getting any warmth out if it!"
"Nonsense!" She slapped his arm playfully, however her hands pulled away and fell tiredly at her side. Exhausted, she paused to catch her breath before remarking. "It belonged to my mother. I remember she bought it when I was a little girl. I suppose she loved it so much I could not bear to throw it away. It reminds me of how hard she worked before she died."
"But it's too long!" Joachim lifted a part of the worn fabric, unable to prevent an amused smile from flashing across his face. "Just look at it! You wear it so it covers up your pretty dress. The last thing I want to have happen is for you to catch a cold – and you always lecture me about not having common sense."
"You are the one who is ill so do not fuss over me." She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing him to finally keep her warm, but evidently because she did not wish to hear more of his criticisms. They did not have a particular destination in mind, and since the field was too far from where they were, both resorted to wandering aimlessly down the few streets the village had to offer them. Joachim kept a careful eye upon her the entire time, and how her graceful form tried to shiver without him noticing. The lady's shoulders were somewhat elevated, but the smile remained pressed across her lips until he spoke his thoughts aloud. "You are tense, Catherine. What's the matter, do you wish to return home?"
"Certainly not!" Her bright green eyes hardened, and a single gust of wind made her scramble to maintain the grip her other hand reinforced upon the tattered shawl covering her. "Perhaps you have the right to worry, since the murders are still unsolved. What is going to happen now that eleven people have died? Four of your serfs were lost last month alone, not to mention a poor young boy in early October." Her lips pursed, and she gave her head a slow regretful shake. "Joachim, I thought you wrote to the Vatican three months ago about this? Why have they not replied by now?"
"They have. Today I received a letter from Cardinal Michael." Once again sourness returned in his voice, and she drew a gasp from witnessing his other hand clench into a tight fist. The mad flurry of rage dwelling within his eyes threatened to rise to the surface as it had throughout the day, but he reminded himself he was in the presence of a ailing young woman, whom he did not wish to stress. "My request was rejected. Apparently, Cardinal Michael has no time to deal with issues that do not benefit the crusades."
The hopeful glint in Catherine's eyes fell, and she halted in the middle of the street like a startled doe, her lips gaping in absolute disbelief. "How could God loving men turn their backs on those in need? May the lord forgive them, but they will have to help Creightel sooner or later. Otherwise our knights will have no one left to come home to…" Her eyes darted away from him nervously, choosing instead to gaze down the empty streets. "But…there is too much at stake for any of us to give up. You are brave, Joachim, and I know you are doing all you can."
"It's never enough." The young nobleman breathed a soft sigh through his lips, tracing her warm face with his eyes, and the desperation she tried to conceal from him. "I have a feeling my life will be expended trying to find out. The villagers hate me, and you could be putting yourself at risk by associating with me. If I am going to fade from this earth, perhaps watching me fail to my very last day will bring them some happiness." Often times during the course of the four-month period he wondered why nothing could make him feel anything except personal discontent. No matter how hard he tried to cheer up, he could not rid himself of the knowledge his incompetence would stain the Armster name forever. The Armster Manor would be an empty household without a single person from his deceased line to reside in it, and its magnificent assets would be passed down to the vassal he loathed almost as much as Walter.
Yet, Catherine's soft words restored his fading hope, and drew his attention to watching her head lower thoughtfully. "What about your own happiness? Do I not make you happy? Is …living for me…not enough?" Her words choked in her throat, and single tear slid down her fine cheek, but she did not lift a hand to wipe it away. Instead, she continued to avert her eyes, almost as if fearing he would see too far into her thoughts. Joachim had never before observed her deliberately trying to conceal herself from him. His stance became rigid when the wind scraped against his cold cheeks. The wind swept around Catherine's hair, and caused the green bow to untie so the elements mercilessly battered the two unfastened tails.
A silence settled over her lips for a long moment, and Joachim did not dare try to change the subject. He watched the single tear strand itself against her cheek, and her graceful lashes soon lift alongside her quivering lips, wordlessly confirming her regained optimism. Her gentle green eyes gazed at him for a long time, and without warning, her hand slid away from his and lifted to his face. The sensation of her soft fingers warmed his numbing cheeks, and whilst her hand caressed his smooth visage, a mysterious aura of joy resonated within her voice. "If you will not live for me, at least believe what I have to say. Times have been difficult, but I promise you will never feel lonely again."
"What do you mean?" He cocked his head, for every part of him sought to see into the thoughts she kept closed from him. It pained him to know he did not have the right to ask. So many times he kept his feelings locked away from her, refusing to reveal them out of fear of being vulnerable.
Catherine…you try so valiantly to keep me from following in my father's footsteps. You have every right to keep things from me. What could possibly bring me joy at a time like this?
"I must return home. My father will be waiting for me." The lady turned her back to the wind, but did not move when his hand reached and touched the soft tails of her ribbon. Without daring to address the topic again, his hands re-tied the ribbon into a bow, but when he tried to slide his hand away, she reached over her shoulder and touched his wrist. She pulled him closer to her, nearly pressing him against her back, and her parting whisper made him fall still.
"You will see."
The snow refused to come, but the hold of darkness dominated the sunlight. The days were shorter in late January, and the nights blacker and longer than any other month of the year. Joachim rarely slept more than four hours a day, and his anxiety had reached its breaking point. The cold night made him shiver as he sat against the windowpane of his bedroom, looking down at the manor grounds and the tiny orange lights burning against the entrapping blackness. The sickly young lord had not gone to bed that night, but paced back and forth around the room, until his eyes captured the image of fire dancing in the village. The tiny forms of light moved through the darkness, gradually nearing the Armster Manor during the minutes he spent pressed against the window. One shaking hand continuously wiped away the warm condensation his breaths left against the window's cold surface, whilst the other hand caressed the hilt of his sword. It was going to be a long night.
The glowing procession of flames grew gradually nearer. Within the darkness he saw the shapes of people hurrying up the path to his peaceful manor, but in a sullen silence, the young lord leapt from the window ledge and darted to the door of the room. The tails of his robes fanned behind him as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, and a frown of restlessness flashed across his lips before his tense frame was nearly bowled over from colliding straight into Maurizio. "What the hell are you doing here?" Joachim hissed while giving the knight an irate glare after realizing Maurizio was not alone. Accompanying him were Jezebel and Emmaline, who backed away from seeing the lord's face darken suspiciously.
"Everyone has lost their minds!" Emmaline interceded before Maurizio could explain. The lady's deep brown eyes shone with the simplest form of fear. "They decided they are going to take matters into their own hands – and they are coming for you!"
Maurizio straightened his stance, before withdrawing the sword he kept at his side. "I came to warn you." The knight's voice was grave. "Almost the entire village thinks you are responsible. They have already arrived before the entrance doors, and I daresay they are in quite an obnoxious state of affairs."
Everyone looked to the pale young man as if he held all the answers to their predicament. The situation was grim at best, and Joachim could only answer by drawing his sword. The motion made Jezebel's body tremble, and her hands fly over her face at the sight of the metallic sword's smooth blade glinting under the candlelight reflecting off its unstained surface. "You cannot be serious!" Her jaw dropped when Joachim's adamant demeanor did not waver in the least. "You are out numbered two hundred to two! Not only that but you are ill – what chance do you stand against a bunch of rioting peasants?"
"Violence will be my last resort. It would be best if you ran and hid yourselves somewhere, because they may turn on you as well if they know you are here." Joachim hurried off down the hall without waiting for Maurizio follow. His heart raced in his chest, and his breaths were shallow, but he pushed onward without giving a second thought to his own welfare. What did he have to lose by confronting those who mocked and ridiculed him? The safety of the manor and his father's honor was in his hands, and no matter what he faced, he would let nothing stop him from protecting it. If he died in the attempt, at least it would be in the heart of battle…though it pained him to know his opponents would be his own subjects. It would be a dishonorable way to die, but under the circumstances he had no time to choose.
The lord skidded in front of the entrance doors, where dozens of serfs and servants struggled to keep closed against the banging and shouts coming from the other side. Upon arriving with Maurizio at his side, he waved those few who made up his entourage out of harms way. "Do not stay here to protect me! If you feel inclined, flee into the fields, or guard the other side of the manor. I will deal with this mob myself." Joachim ran toward the doors, ignoring the anxious calling of his servants to stay back when a particularly loud thump caused the entire foundation of the entranceway to tremble.
"This is insane!" He heard Maurizio shout as he pulled the great doors open and stepped out in front of a hoard of shouting and cursing peasants.
Whether or not his decision to emerge from the safety of the manor walls could hardly be considered a wise one when he stood against two hundred raging people. Almost every single one of them carried a torch or weapon. Their glaring eyes locked upon him the instant his pasty form contrasted against the enveloping nightscape. It was almost as if the lord had thrown himself before a pack of mad dogs, and his voice was nearly lost amidst their audacious shouts. "Listen to me!" He shouted over their voices, causing the mob's volume to die down a slight notch, but not enough to restrain a few peasants from throwing objects his way. Several times Joachim had to dart back to avoid being knocked unconscious by hurdling stones, though things could not have gone much worse when they began pelting rotten food. Red tomatoes were sent spattering over the steps, and several chunks of over ripe cabbage flew passed his face.
It was difficult to decipher an exact comment coming from the frenzied screaming lips of almost every person in the rabble, but he persisted in his attempt to retain some kind of order. "Why are you attacking the home of your lord, who wants nothing more to end this crisis as much as any of you do? There is no suspect because there is no evidence to lead me to one! No one has confessed, and I shall not give up until the one who committed these atrocities is found-" Although he was shouting the words he held in his heart for the people to hear, none of them seemed to care they witnessed the overwhelming aura of sadness wash across his temperate countenance. He gave a quick glance to Maurizio for assistance, but neither the knight's eyes or lips returned the silent plea. To his growing dismay, Maurizio drew back toward the doors, and quietly remained in the shadows.
From somewhere in the crowd, a voice jolted him. "You're the one responsible! Your nothing but a foul vampire! Ever since you became our lord, the winter has receded, and darkness has befallen our families! It is all from your doing!" Joachim's lips parted, disbelieving the sting of their hatred. "Why would I do such a horrible thing?" He countered, and kicked the remnants of cabbage leaves and rotten vegetables off the manor steps. His calm blue eyes began to fester with pending rage, and a feral shout erupted from his throat as the sole of his boot stomped on a moldy tomato. "I am not a vampire! Vampires don't exist! You cannot blame the cause of our misfortune upon creatures of myth!"
The mob's rage was beginning to rise to its boiling point. Joachim's hand tightened further around his sword until he felt the weapon's silver hilt dig into his palm. At any moment the more outraged members of the rabble would try to advance toward him, and the feeling of being outnumbered and alone throbbed inside his whirling mind like an open wound. If he fought back, it would only confirm their mixed up accusations, and if he did nothing he was at the mercy of their wrath. He did not have time to decide which was worse before a familiar voice cried through the angry shouts.
"Stop it all of you! Leave him alone, for all of you are nothing but a bunch of cowards to bully an ill man so ruthlessly! Can you not see he cares about your plight enough to stand against you all without retreating like most other lords would have if they faced these circumstances?"
At the very back of the crowd he saw Catherine's glittering green eyes gazing up at him, while she attempted to fight her way through. A particular group of three men refused to let her pass, and one responded by grabbing hold of her front and shoving her onto the ground. "Close that mouth of yours, wench! It is you, who is blind to this fiend's wicked ways, and a woman with your unruly tongue has no place among us!" Joachim's breath left his lungs when the men surrounded the place where she lay on the ground, and between the groups of raging peasants, his eyes managed to witness the trio of men lashing her trembling body with a leather whip. The sound of their laughter screamed in his ears louder than all the people in the mob combined, and with a horrified scream, he lunged against the first of the peasants, raising his sword and slashing it at all who got in his path.
Joachim's eyes burned as fiercely they resembled the hatred of a dragon, and in barely a second his sword's clean blade was stained red by blood. "Get away from her!" His screaming voice rang with rage and pain, and he was blind to everything around him except the fallen girl whose flesh the men's whip lashed and bled. One of the three kicked her with his boot and spat on her face, whilst her tender form lay battered and gasping for air, and her hands groped the earth with a dying hope of escaping the blows from the brutal weapon. "You bastards! What did she do except be a voice of reason to try and calm your madness! You whip her as if she is a dog, you foul unholy wretches!" Joachim's sword continued to cut down any man that tried to impede his progress, but no matter how desperate or reckless he was, groups of people fought back and surrounded him on all sides. In a matter of moments the distraught young lord was subdued by the retaliation of their clubs and fists.
He felt the sharp jolts of pain encompass him from the heavy blow he took to the chest, and yet his blurring vision sought only the fallen woman somewhere in the belly of the rioting mob. It consumed every part of his heart, and even though they knocked him down, his sword continued to swing and slice the heels of those standing closest to where he lay. One by one men fell, but more emerged to replace them, and it was not long before one of the men who had whipped Catherine appeared and stomped on his wrist. Bright spots of pain blinded Joachim's vision, and he felt a thin trickle of blood slide down his lips and the coarse sensation of rope binding his feet and hands. "Let's lynch him!" Someone yelled above the crowed, and while the infuriated peasants stood around the bound body of the crippled lord, he struggled to push himself forward like a fish out of water until a hand stuck him down once again.
"Why not take a closer look at this fiend? Tis' no wonder he is a vampire, his skin is paler than snow. How could God allow an abomination like this to survive for so long?"
Laughter broke among the more passive observers in the crowed but no laughter was stronger than those who dragged the white-haired youth across the dirt. He felt their kicks and the globular trickles of their spit slide down his face, but he lifted his head against their rebuke, his voice clearing long enough to rasp. "May you all burn in hell for harming her!" He was certain those words were about to be his last. If they did not succeed at lynching him, he was almost certain their beatings would give him a slow, painful death. Blow after blow he waited for the final moment to come as he struggled to free himself from the ropes, but as if the world had come to a sudden standstill, the noise of the mob died into silence.
Joachim struggled to look up in search of the source of their suddenly quiet behavior, and choked a bloodied gasp at the sight of an armored figure moving through the crowed. A pair of black glittering eyes looked down upon his broken body, and the sound of a deep but imposing voice resonated through the dark night sky. "Leave him. He is not the one you seek. Such aggressive displays accomplish nothing. Would the beloved Lady Arabella condone your cruel treatment of her only son? I think not." Gazing down at him was none other than Walter. The lord's vibrant red hair coiled around the man's confident but somber face. Although Walter's words were soft, he had a way of carrying his voice so all heard the question and gave no answer except awkward sounds of shuffling. "My dear friends," He added. "Look at him. You have punished him enough for his incompetence. What point is there in killing him? After all, he is the son of Lord Zaeviean, and to bring such a proud bloodline to an unbecoming end would defile the honored names of your former lord and lady."
The silence lingered in the air for what felt like hours, but only after a few tense minutes did footsteps thump over the ground to announce the dispersal of the rabble. Joachim waited until the sounds disappeared before he tried to free his hands from his bonds, but was aided when Walter bent over and cut the rope with the razor sharp tips of his gauntlets. "Do not move." The firm sound of the other lord's voice made Joachim's weary head fall upon the dirt as a pair of hands pulled him up and carried his limp body. After a few moments he fought to escape the man's gripping hold, but fell still when Walter's dark eyes softened with a brief form of sympathy that passed as quickly as it appeared. "Your lady bled for your sake. I had Sir Maurizio carry her inside. At least her life will be spared. Though, I regret, the other has not…"
"The other what?" Joachim choked between breathless gasps. "If she truly lives, you must let me go to her…!"
"You can do nothing for her now." Walter shook his head. "What is important is your survival. A woman's welfare places second to your own."
Joachim's fearful countenance was consumed by a grimace of restrained pain. "I refuse to believe that." If he had the option, he would have made his body take her lashings without question. "She did nothing except speak on my behalf, and for that she suffered needlessly. It is my fault…for not having the strength to protect her…"
"Not everything is based upon strength alone." Walter's voice softened, drawing the youth's gaze to the man's pale yet comforting visage. "Love is what drives one to do the unthinkable. It drives us to create, imagine, and believe things are how we see them. It also has consequences, for love is as dangerous as it is necessary. I doubt your will would have changed hers." Without another word, the red-haired lord ascended the steps and brought him behind the safety of the manor walls. It was a refuge Joachim had become too accustomed to hiding behind over the years. It was strange to be carried in such a manner, and to realize the lord tended to him as if he were a child, even though his susceptible condition could not have shown otherwise. Walter's steps were swift and silent, and not a sound emanated through the silent air except the dull swish of his cape fluttering alongside his stealth-like movements.
Walter laid him down in his bed and left the room. The silence was almost more excruciating than the pain, for his thoughts continued to center around the whereabouts of Catherine. Yet, only when his gaze drifted into the mirror on his nightstand did he catch a glimpse of his unpleasant appearance. Dried blood stained his pearly white hair, and his face bore the effects of receiving numerous kicks and blows, though it was the growing pain he felt in his ribcage that kept him in the bed. An almost unbearable throbbing pain coursed through him, and he feared what it may have felt like if he had not worn his armor.
A few minutes passed before Walter returned with five of Joachim's servants. Joachim hated having to tolerate their watchful eyes staring at his mangled figure. Nevertheless, he remained complacent when the servants approached his bedside and removed his clothes. "Please, lay still." Walter's whispered soothingly, and the discomfort wearing on his ashen face from watching the other lord step forward as a servant set a pail of hot water on the nightstand. "You are weary." The man's lips formed an elegant smile, whilst he removed his gauntlets, revealing smooth, contoured hands. "Try to rest. You have broken a rib, and I fear your wrist has been fractured also. Tis' fortunate you sustained no other serious injuries, but these will take time to clean and bandage. If you permit me, I will aid your servants so this is handled with extreme care."
Joachim could not find the strength to argue. Instead, he watched Walter's hand dip into the pail and wring out a cloth and swab the gashes in his flesh. The servants also attended to their lord diligently but kept their lips silent and their eyes averted, as Walter attempted to relieved the tension between he and the young man. "After your wounds are cleaned you will see they look worse than they are. Admittedly, it has been some time since you and I last met, though I wish t'was under better circumstances. The news of Creightel's uprising reached many parts of these lands, yet I did not expect it to elevate to this scale." Walter's expression softened while he gently massaged the young lord's pale chest with the cloth. Joachim made an effort to hide his discomfort. He tried to turn so his backside would face Walter instead, but succeeded in shifting upon the wounded part of his rib, so that the agonizing shock he received made him cry out. The young nobleman squeezed his eyes shut as his frame shuddered from feeling Walter's ice-cold hands lift him up and turn him on his back again.
"You should listen when I tell you not to move." Walter's smiled weakly. The man's ashen hands wrung the bloodied water out of the cloth. After cleaning the wounds, he picked up the cloth bandages that Joachim's servants had left for him. The bandages would support Joachim's broken rib, as well as cover the bruises that covered his torso. Walter's eyes gave the bandages a discerning look before he unfolded them and began to wrap them around the young man's chest. Although the man's touch was cold, Joachim was unable to ignore the fact that Walter was meticulous and careful to avoid injuring him further. Walter's caring gesture made Joachim's voice soften. "You…disliked my father…so why do you help me?"
For a split second, a look of discomfort wore across Walter's face, and the other lord's lips pursed for a lengthy time. "I will not deny your father and I were far from comrades," He began, as though choosing his words carefully. "However tis' a petty thing to dwell upon, considering of the lady he married. Perhaps you could say, I was rather…impressed by her quiet and gracious mannerisms. You are her son and her memory lives through you, thus I know her soul would weep if anything ill came of her child."
Joachim felt a severe tightening in his throat. Somehow Walter's response, although empathetic, seemed torn between truth and concealment. The soft glimmer in the man's eyes hid something undetectable by nature, but still present as the lord's hand touched something suspended against his collarbone that his elaborately designed armor did not conceal. The young lord's face was barely kept composed from noticing Walter's hand stroked a glittering black stone, which he could not resist trying to point at as a silence inhibited their discussion. "What is that stone you are wearing?"
The feeble sounding question seemed to make the other lord's smile waver, and as if greatly troubled by it, his hand tucked the stone out of sight. Joachim wondered whether or not his question was too abrupt, especially after watching Walter turn away. The other lord's voice died into a low murmur in response. "Tis' nothing but a simple stone made of ebony. It uplifts me when I keep it close, though this object is far from what you should place your attentions upon now. Rest is in order until you regain your strength. I trust you will stay in bed and sleep."
The vague reaction was so eccentric Joachim did not entirely comprehend it. However, in an attempt to avoid discomforting him further, a small smile crossed his lips. He could barely believe that he was smiling under such circumstances, least of all in the presence of Walter. Nevertheless, when the red-haired lord turned to face him again, his dark eyes greedily took in the young man's gratitude. "Walter…" Joachim began, almost hesitantly. "I…am grateful for your help."
They stared at each other for a long while. Joachim could not overlook the fact that a delighted grin appeared upon Walter's lips when he at last replied. "You need not thank me, Joachim. No harm will ever befall you whilst you are under my care." With a flick of his long cape, Walter made a short bow, which made his red hair cascade around his face and shoulders in graceful waves. Joachim felt something inside him tremble at the sight – though, for once, it was out of admiration rather than fear. The man was truly beautiful to look at. Joachim felt his heart begin thumping rapidly in his chest as their eyes met. Before he could even begin to think of what to say, the other lord approached his bedside again. The painful incident he had just experienced seemed to vanish from his thoughts the moment Walter's hand touched his cheek. He was used to feeling the man's gauntlets – yet now, what he felt was smooth, human flesh touching his own. In his weakened state, he could do nothing except lay still while attempting to hide his excitement beneath a composed exterior. Walter sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over him, his eyes drawing the young man in completely. However, unlike the paralyzing feeling Joachim experienced before, this time, he deliberately refrained from moving as Walter's face neared his own. The man's hot breath licked at his cheeks, and his dark eyes were so close that he wondered if their starlit pools might swallow him whole. Up close, Walter's gaze possessed a distinct and mysterious beauty, not unlike the night sky, as though when one looked at them they could stare forever and ponder the mysteries they concealed. Though he could not detect Walter's thoughts, he was transfixed by his presence, and his breath hitched in his chest when he noticed Walter's lips hovering above his own. Whether he was fatigued, traumatized, or simply intrigued – he could not say – but he did not turn away. Walter's hand caressed Joachim's soft, ivory hair. The gesture lulled the young man, who returned it with a gracious smile as his once ivory face flushed a shade of crimson.
Although his mind screamed for him to turn his face away, the surge of want and desire flooding through him overtook his rationality. Before he could withdraw another breath, Walter's lips touched his, drawing him into a kiss so deep that his body fell limp as the other lord encircled him in his arms. For the first time in his life, a feeling of security and acceptance enveloped him. Walter's hold was gentle but strong at the same time, as though promising him that his pain and fears would be washed away in their moment together. He felt Walter's lips trail to his neck and kiss the delicate flesh, his hands gently groping across his pale chest, touching every contour as carefully as if he might shatter like glass. He wondered if he was dreaming. The fact that he was kissing his most hated adversary was beyond his most wild imaginations. Yet, the touch of Walter's lips was unmistakable. He could feel the man's passion flowing into him when their lips met again, locking in a fervent and hungry kiss, unable to resist curiosity and temptation. A part of Joachim hated Walter as much as he admired him. His mind began to spin as Walter's lips trailed to his collarbone and eagerly covered the soft flesh. Yet, it was becoming too much for the young man to bear. Joachim's mind drifted in and out of focus as his chest began to heave, desperate to regain control over himself as his consciousness faded. Walter's lips lifted, and their eyes locked once more. Joachim could barely comprehend what had just occurred. If his servants had seen them, he was certain the Vatican would have him imprisoned – and more likely put to death for his transgression. However, Walter seemed unbothered by the possibility. In fact, the man's expression remained soft and calm, not once indicating the slightest hint of apprehension. Why was he not fearful? Why did the laws and boundaries of society fail to secure him in its grasp? And…what was he hiding? The more he tried to think, the wearier he became. Within moments, Joachim's consciousness pulled him into a dreamless sleep.
Although he suffered inflictions that should have kept him bedridden for the next three days, his sleep did not last. After mere hours had passed, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Unsurprisingly, Walter was absent when he awoke. It did not take him long to reflect upon what had happened between them. It disgusted and shamed him when he realized that Walter had seduced him – though willingly. Despite the other lord's compassion toward him, he sensed that the man's intentions were less than candid. Not only that but he had no idea what had happened to Catherine. His concern for her temporarily overcame his confusion. No matter what, he was determined to go to her. The young man struggled to stand after he placed his feet on the floor. The attempt nearly caused him to fall but his hand quickly grasped onto the bedpost for support. He waited a moment before he began to walk, and reached his clothes and boots that were set out on the end of the bed.
By no means was he supposed to have gotten out of bed, especially after Walter told him to rest. A grimace of pain and fear wore upon his ashen visage as he stumbled down the corridor in search of the guestrooms. Each step was agonizing but the thought of finding Catherine outweighed all of his other priorities. It relieved him to know that the guestrooms were located in his wing of the manor, so the trek would not be too far for his injured body to tolerate. Fainting threatened to end his determined endeavor, for his body was relentless in the way it defied the will of his mind. If he had to crawl on his hands and knees to see her, it would not have inhibited him in the least. Nevertheless, the young man's shame ran deep. He had done something unspeakable, unforgivable, and perhaps even damming to his very soul. Even when he wanted to believe the church did not concern him, his shame and doubt proved the contrary. What is happening to me? He thought, his face warping into a mask of self-contempt. He was unsure if he could live with what he had done, especially if his suspicions about Walter were true. What if Catherine discovered my indiscretion? The thought plagued him to no end. Though unmarried, as well as in a position of privilege, his love for her made him powerless. Nothing would ever change his feelings for her, not even Walter. He hated the man all the more now for his transgression, for the fact that lord's kiss had sealed his fate. Joachim was certain he would be damned for it.
Before long, his haggard form arrived in the guest wing where over a dozen people stood outside one of the chamber doors. Their reactions to him were instantaneous and grim. Walter was among those loitering around. "I told you to remain in bed…" The red-haired lord's voice hinged on impatience, though his face could not have looked more composed. "You are still exhausted and I do not think this is the best time to speak to Catherine." Though the other lord addressed him politely, a look passed between them that confirmed Joachim's shame. Indeed, Walter remembered their little transgression and derived some form of pleasure from it. Dizzy spell swept through him that moment, which forced him to lean against the wall, his breathing labored and shallow. Beads of perspiration trickled down the side of his face and dampened his pasty flesh. Even though he was feverish, he refused to grant Walter the satisfaction of controlling him. Walter's concern simply fuelled his desire to defy him.
Joachim returned Walter's empathy with a fierce scowl. "I must see her. Your opinion is of no significance." He approached the group of servants boldly, and held his head high, however their glum faces disturbed him. Not a single person with the sole exception of Walter dared to look in his eyes as he moved toward the door. Something about the silence made a cold shudder tingle down his spine, and when he feebly grasped the door, he looked over his shoulder upon hearing Walter's voice lower to a whisper. "…Joachim…please accept my condolences."
The pale blue eyes of the younger lord widened, as if the invisible force of panic had sucked all the air within his lunged out. "What?" Joachim's trembling hand flew over his chest in response to the wild beats of his heart against his tender ribcage. All of his thoughts were overtaken by alarm, and without hesitation, he swung the door open and barged into the room. Part of him held the most sincere form of dread at the thought of sighting Catherine's lifeless body laying on the bed, her gorgeous emerald eyes closed never to open again, never to see the wave of anguish that would stain his soul until his dying breath. "Catherine!" His voice let out a desperate wail of sorrow, however he halted in the doorway after looking at the bed and realizing she was not there but instead huddled on the floor in front of a window. Three female servants were crowded around her.
He wanted to hurry to her and exclaim his joy at finding her alive, but Catherine's grieving expression made him fall silent. The ringlets of her thick raven hair were untidy, and her gentle bosom shook in releasing inconsolable sobs. The moment she caught sight of him, she turned her face away and continued to weep, the tears cascaded down her cheeks. At first, Joachim was at a loss of what to do, since the cause of her sorrow was yet unknown to him. The servants rose from their crouched positions around the woman, and like the others that stood in front of the door, they kept their eyes averted.
It took all of his remaining strength to find the nerve to shatter the silence. "What has happened? Why are all of you looking at me-" Joachim felt something in his throat strangle the words from his throat when he saw the bloodied rags the women were trying to hide. It was then he felt a part of his soul scream when his mouth could not, and the direst sensation of dread wrap around his trembling body and suffocate him in the silence of that lonely room. The youth's wandering eyes darted madly from one servant to the other in search of the answer as his heart frantically thumped against his chest. The sound of Catherine's distraught weeping increased his turmoil. No one gave him the answer he sought, which resulted in the sudden explosion of his alarm and fear. "Tell me! What happened to her? Why does she weep-"
"Joachim…" Between the sounds of her sobs, Catherine's voice was faint. The young man's rage feigned when he stared at a tiny blanket cradled in her arms. As he stared at the object, a heavy weight set itself against his already wounded chest. The lord's face went deathly pale when one of the servant women stepped forward, her deep brown eyes glistening and gazing at his shocked expression.
"Milord…t'was a few hours ago that she lost her child."
Joachim's hands flew over his face, and after a pause, a strangled sob choked through his voice. "What child?"
The servant remained in a troubled silence; however the lord's hands slid down his face from hearing the sound of Catherine's heartbroken whisper. Her voice was barely audible but enough to draw his eyes to the tiny bundle pressed tightly to her bosom. "Yours."
The whirling thoughts inside his mind gave way to the tears trickling down his smooth cheeks, whilst the profound wave of anguish swept through his entire soul and destroyed the last flicker of his dying spirit. At that moment his surroundings seemed cold, lifeless, and forlorn. Not even he could comprehend how words managed to fill the air, despite how rapidly the very description of grief consumed his shattered mind. "This can't be! I could never do such thing as to father a child-"
The voice of denial was silenced by the tormented memories plaguing his mind. His weakened frame crumpled to the floor in a fit of sorrow, a bitter lament that not a single living soul could soothe. A sorrowful wail fled from his lips as he made his rage and grief known to God. "Why? A…life…so precious…taken. Yet, you never told me a new life grew within your womb Catherine! A child…whose blood was of my own…and whose life was…brief…so very brief…like my own…"
"I wanted to tell you!" Catherine clutched the tiny bundle in her arms, trying to show him the tiny infant beneath its folds. He turned his head away, his chest heaving, as crystalline tears stained his cheeks. He could not find the strength to look at her. If only his own wretched existence could be exchanged for the sake of his unborn child! A child who died before truly living. Yet, a tiny part of his remaining self-control made him listen to the sound of Catherine's solemn voice. "This was your child. I kept it a secret…so none would know the love we had shared. I wanted to ensure you had…a reason to live…and to protect it from the cruel words of everyone else…who would think of it as nothing but a sin."
Such words only made him weep harder. Catherine's soft hands stroked the bundle, her feelings of maternal love unchanged by the pain of her loss. The lady's bright emerald eyes blinked away the tears, a gesture he was envious he could not make, for the immeasurable influence of sadness had overwhelmed him. The grieving lord allowed his tears to flood every ounce of joy from his body, and his lips trembled against the dull murmur of his thoughts. "Why…do you try so hard…to give me things that were never meant to be? A child…my child… is gone before I could realize what a miracle was. Before I could comprehend what I had done."
"You did what your heart entailed you to do." Catherine's voice was filled with sorrow. Regardless of her efforts to keep it from him, he felt the corroding effect it had on her as well as himself. "The love you have for this child…a life that never lived…is enough. I heard not a single cry when she was placed in my arms…and I knew that moment she was too small…and too frail a creature to live."
"She?" Joachim whispered under his breath, his eyes swollen and red from his tears.
"Yes." Her emerald eyes drew his gaze, but not himself to where she lay. Joachim found no will to rise off his knees, since the will he had was all but destroyed by his misery. "Will you not look upon your daughter just once…? Come and see her…she appears quite peaceful now. I can see no pain in her face…she…looks as though she is sleeping."
Joachim tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, even as more continued to drip down his face. His dulled blue eyes fled from the sight of the tiny bundle she held, which he knew contained the product of a love that was as doomed as the child itself. He cared not about the rumors that would soon circulate throughout the village, nor did his mind dwell upon the punishments the church would sanction against him. Together they made her, and together they would be forced to bury her. Such irony drove him to loathe his weak and pathetic body but to loathe even more the ones responsible for his grief. It was three men who lashed the woman until the child was prematurely dispelled from her womb, and it was God who allowed such an atrocity to happen. A God he never truly believed in, but who seemed more real and crueler from realizing a miracle was given to him, but then so mercilessly taken away. Life had rarely shown him kindness. If he had not been with Walter during the hour of the child's birth, he might have been able to comfort Catherine. His lust and greed had consumed him…and God was punishing him for it.
"I have not the heart to look." He forced himself to his feet in spite of his exhaustion. The room felt as if it was trapping him forever in his sadness, and no longer could he walk through his manor without remembering the tiny life that passed away within its walls.
"Please Joachim." Catherine persisted. "Will you not take a glimpse at her? Just to hold her in your arms is all I ask you to do! Look upon what is yours." Catherine sobbed so miserably that he dare not turn his back upon the beautiful woman who tried to give him so much – even herself and a child to bring him happiness. Without a word, he made a grave nod and walked to her, whereupon his arms accepted the nearly weightless bundle of cloth. The young lord was so grief-stricken he simply stood motionless, reluctant to blink or to reveal the returning storm of rage and pain that engulfed his whole being.
Catherine's plea echoed through his thoughts. Very lightly, his fingers pulled the cloth away, and his lips quivered at the tiny creature he cradled in his arms. It was barely ten inches long, and the digits of its fingers and toes were not completely formed, but what drew his attention was the baby's little face. Despite its tiny size, the human face he gazed upon made tears slide down his cheeks.
So this is what she looked like…within the protection of my lady's womb. A tiny, fragile, little girl…who is so cold and limp in my arms. Nothing about her is complete…and nothing about me ever will be from this moment forward. If only she had lived, for I would have given her all the love in my heart.
He did not realize his hands were shaking as he folded the blanket over the infant as his he whispered faintly. "I have seen her now. Though her life is no more, my daughter deserved a name. Give her one." The lord passed the blanket to one of the attending servants, his head lowering so the soft strains of his pearly white hair curtained around his somber visage. He rubbed his brow and turned away, unable to search through his sorrow in order to speak on the matter ever again. From that moment forward, the memory of the incident would be forever locked away in the deepest and most vulnerable part of him.
The lady's green eyes blinked away the tears, however her words sounded strong compared to her withered figure. "Let us call her Kali. Kali Armster."
Joachim only response was a stiff nod of agreement.. He released a heavy sigh after admiring his daughter's name; yet noticed a figure dressed in a black cassock was waiting in the doorway. It pained him to have to leave Catherine, however it would give both he and her time apart to grieve in solitude. As he turned toward the door, he directed a short glance at one of his servants. "Ensure Catherine is taken care of." He muttered as if to himself, since his monotone voice made it difficult to decipher whom he was addressing. "Allow her to keep the infant as long she requires. The infant is to be wrapped in my mother's finest white shroud…but keep its face covered."
"Yes milord." The servant woman replied with a deep bow of her head. Joachim walked to the door where the priest stood waiting. He was tempted to continue onward without addressing the elderly man, but after he closed the door behind him, he realized the groups of servants – including Walter – were not present. The young man's tentative steps came to an abrupt halt. He avoided the old man's probing gaze and wanted nothing more than time to think things through, however the intense inquiry of the priest made it impossible.
Father Genesio's face was calm. Despite the man's empathy, his eyes glared upon Joachim reproachfully. "What became of the child?"
Joachim looked up at Genesio's face with a thin flicker of hatred. It was evident by his silence what had happened. As always, he was forced to endure such insensitive questions with a kind of cold courtesy he had learned from watching his father over the years. If any other had seen his monotonous reaction, they might have thought the bitterness emanating through his icy eyes was identical to lord Zaeviean's, however his soft words contradicted it.
"The infant died. It was prematurely born and too small to survive." Joachim eyes diverted from the priest, expecting the question that would come next. Yet when it did, his heart seared in his chest as if the church had burnt him like the many people left burned alive at the stake.
"Was the child baptized?" The priest stared at him, seeming to be prepared to go into the matter further if the young man gave the slightest indication of lying. It was not surprising when Joachim's attempt to be solemn was overwrought by the feelings of woe. Rivers of tears flowed over his wan cheeks, and his throat choked when he gave the straightforward answer. "It did not live long enough."
"I see." The old priest's brow furrowed, and the look of contempt sketched across his face made Joachim's insides churn in a state of apprehension. A short silence came and went, before the priest folded his coarse hands and shook his head. That gesture alone was enough to make his throat lost by both his feelings of shock and grief from hearing Genesio's voice firm almost instantaneously. "Tell me young man; did you father this ill-begotten infant?"
Joachim's face paled almost whiter than snow. "The child was mine."
"Born out of wedlock?"
The questions were becoming increasingly intrusive, however for the lord it was too much, and when he gave his answer he hung his head. "Yes."
The priest's thin lips curled. "It all stands to reason then. Original sin and the temptation of women are nothing but a snare Satan uses to lure the reckless. I suppose that means your chastity was lost for the sake of that sinful creation."
"What are you implying? How can an innocent child be unworthy of God's love?"
"This has little to do with love, milord." Genesio's silvery eyes glared at the young man, his words a severe reprimand. "Lust is one of the seven deadliest sins. When you lay beside a woman and plant your seed inside her garden of sin, lust is the only emotion worthy of explaining your imprudence. The lady is not even of noble birth, though perhaps the death of the child will conceal the scandalous act you brought upon your family name."
"You would label love as scandalous? You dare to speak of my child as if she were nothing but a sinful burden!" Joachim's hands clenched into fists, his once bitter eyes blazing with disobedient fury. "The one you call God made everyone equal. Catherine is no exception."
"God made us equal but some are more worthy of His attention than others. There are those who are ignorant and wretched, and those who govern society. Catherine has no more place at your side than she has in your bed."
"I will hear no more of this!" Joachim raised a hand, taking a swift step back so that his rage would not make him do something irrational. His grief was enough to carry without enduring the harsh blow of prejudice. The tragedy of losing a child was so deep to him he could not have found the desire to explain it to a man whose mind was set. Although Genesio's attitude was unsurprising, he was unwilling to allow the man to pry into his private affairs. Without hesitating, he hissed under his breath. "You claim to know so much about love arrogance has made you blind to it!"
"You are in no position to make accusations!" Genesio's rough hand seized him by the collar of his robe so quickly the stunned lord had no time to evade the constraining hold, until the priest wrenched him forward, holding his frail throat with such force his infuriated snarl was diminished by the jolts of pain he wrought against the delicate nobleman. "Do you not understand what you have done? It is not enough that you are weak and hated by the villagers but now I must tell you that your child cannot be buried alongside your family. Not only because it was born out of wedlock, but also because it was not baptized as a Christian. Those two things shall condemn it to an eternity in limbo."
"Lies!" Joachim shouted through gritted teeth with hands clawing against the priest's hold until he managed to fight his way free. The instant he was let go, his weak body staggered to stand until his back hit the wall. The young lord's voice was choked in anguish brought upon by the injustice that was his life. "Is it not enough for me to lose a child this way?" His voice rose the point that his shouting echoed down the corridor. Tears dripped off his chin as his haggard figure lunged unsuccessfully at the priest, whilst the bitter words he screamed were lost in his pain. Joachim raised his quavering fists and unclenched them, gazing at the pallid skin covering his fine hands in disgust, before he fell to his knees on the floor and grasped the priest's cassock. Without hesitation, his shoulders sank and his chest shook, allowing him to weep at the feet of the impervious cleric. "Look at me, father! This wretched body of mine has suffered countless misfortunes. Please, I beg you, do not let my child's soul suffer like mine must! She belongs in a place next to my mother and father, for how can you condemn an innocent child to a place in hell? What sin was she capable of? It is I who should be damned to hell, for it is I who committed the sin. Please allow her soul to rest in peace."
"It is not within my power to dispute the will of the church. Any child who dies without being baptized, let alone whose life was created out of wedlock as the product of lust, cannot be buried in a Christian cemetery. You must find another resting place." The priest's cold eyes stared down at the hapless youth, his face unmoved despite how desperately Joachim clung to the cassock. It seemed the young lord held a grip that would tear the cassock itself, but with one feral pull, the priest wrenched the fabric free of his clinched hands. A look of detest spread across the priest's aged face, causing his silver brow to knit and the lines of his lips to curve into a glower. "If you go to the cathedral tomorrow, you may confess yours sins, and only then can your own soul be spared. Till then, you are to say one hundred Hail Mary's and pray for forgiveness."
"If I pray, I will pray men like you are the ones who go to hell!" Joachim rose to his feet and spat on the priest's robe. "I will spit on any man who claims to be holy, for you are a priest who wears the mask of righteousness to hide a tainted heart. If your doctrine sends innocent babies who have done no ill will to hell, I want no part of your religion. I want nothing to do with your version of 'God'."
"What sacrilege does your poisonous tongue dare to speak aloud? Lest you want a permanent residence in Satan's domain, I demand you to hold your tongue and repent!" The priest's face reddened at the sight of the trembling nobleman, who shook his head and spat again on the front of the man's robe. By then Joachim's countenance was twisted by rage, moments away from losing all of what little composure remained. Part of him was so shattered he could not pick up the pieces of his former self, except to coldly denounce what remained of his beliefs. He wanted to have a hope in the church and in God, but too early in his life he was able to pick apart the significant faults with the
church, and in turn he could not trust in their prayers and concepts. The holy Bible was all he had left, but still the concept of God were nothing more to him than words written on parchment.
He was prepared to rip away the shackles of his faith, knowing his sudden need to object was based upon the simple fact he could not bear the death of his child. "I loved that frail little infant!" Joachim's entire frame shook from head to toe, and his eyes gleamed with a kind of desperation unknown to belong to any other human being except one possessing his rare kind of grief. His hand slid over his forehead, gently pushing back the strands of his soft white hair as his voice died to a whisper. "Out of all our virtues, love is the greatest. If we love our children, we can learn to love ourselves. My child was given a name. She was a human being …no matter how briefly she lived. I will never forget her, and if you refuse to bury my sweet child, I will bury her myself."
"Do as you will but you shall not bury her next to your baptized mother and father. A Christian cemetery has no place for ill begotten children." Genesio's rigid stance stiffened against the young man's quiet words.
Not a single hint of surprise fazed Joachim, and he turned his back upon the old man and began walking away. However, before he was out of earshot, he looked over his shoulder at the furious priest and added.
"Strange is it not, that a man like my father would be considered Christian, despite breaking one of the commandments that state thou shalt not kill in the name of the church. Yet, when a guiltless baby dies without being baptized, hell is the only place the church will send it."