Writer's note: Crediting Bad Faery for Father MacAvoy's first name!
As dawn broke the next morning, the clerics were no less convinced that the Lady Belle was possessed by evil. Father Joseph stood on the other side of the cleansing room's doorway awaiting the next form of torture his fellow clerics intended to inflict on her.
Water. It was a symbol of purification. They planned to hold her underwater until they physical saw an evil spirit detach itself or she drown.
Father Joseph peered around the wall, catching sight of Lady Belle. She still lay on her side, the clerics circled around her. Her head lay awkwardly on the straw, but her eyes looked up, pleading for him to help. Father Joseph shook his head, his bottom lip trembling, a feeling of helplessness consuming him.
She needed him. The only person on her side, the only person with the compassion to see passed the contrived ideas, but he could not lift a finger.
As the clerics prepared the purification procedure, Father Joseph stole away from the tower. If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from intervening and that would do neither of them any good. He stayed in the library most of the day, trying desperately to take his mind off the brave young woman locked in the tower. He knew he shouldn't, but after a couple agonizing hours, he swiped the flask of alcohol from his pocket and took a few burning swigs to settle his nerves. Shame flooded him instantly. He hadn't needed strong drink to calm him in a very long time.
He couldn't hide in the library the entire day, and eventually he gained the courage to return to the rectory. He prayed he would not return to find a lifeless body in the tower. He was thankful as he watched the clerics descend the stairwell to overhear that Lady Belle was still alive, though what shape she was in was unknown for the time being.
As he was about to head to his chambers to retrieve any supplies needed to tend to her, Father Joseph stopped dead in his tracks as a certain word was spoken – flaying. His heart pounded violently against his chest and his stomach whirled sickeningly. They planned to flay her the next morning. Skin being peeled away, like a fish being scaled; she'd never survive that.
He rushed to his chambers. Pressing his back to the closed door, hands trembling, he choked down a few more swigs of alcohol. If he were to help Lady Belle, it had to be tonight or she would die. A plan. He needed a plan. He had to get her out of the tower and away from the sanctum. He couldn't lower her from the tower window. That would be more dangerous than letting her walk the corridors to freedom.
Stealing her away in plain sight may be the only way to rescue her. Father Joseph shook his head at the absurd idea. If he could disguise her in robes and pass her off as a cleric, he could get her to safety. It was the only option he had, and he hurried to his trunk to rummage out an old brown woolen robe he used on occasions. He also grabbed more healing ointment and a small sack of silver coins.
As the night grew long, Father Joseph quietly crept up the spiraling stairs to the tower. He paused before entering, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for whatever awaited him. It was no surprise to find Lady Belle lying on her side, breathing raggedly. Her skin was deathly pale in the lamplight and cold to the touch. Her chestnut locks were damp and tied in knots.
"Lady Belle" he called softly, fluttered his fingertips over her bare arm. She made a horribly broken noise and turned her face to him.
"Father Joseph" she rasped, barely audible.
"I'm here to take you away from this place." He pulled out the ointment, getting to work to cleaning her wounds from the day before. "I'm sorry I do not have anything for the pain, but I need you to stay awake. This will help to a degree" he said, coaxing her to drink from his flask. He knew it would scorch her throat, but he couldn't think of any other way to relieve the pain of her wounds. Lady Belle coughed and shook as if her body was falling to pieces. He steadied her as best he could and used soothing words he hoped gave comfort.
"It will be hard, but you must wear this robe and walk as best you can."
"Can't walk."
Her brokenness wrenched his heart. "You must, my Lady" Father Joseph encouraged. "It is the only way to save you. I will be with you. Lean on me if you need to, but you must leave this place or you will die."
With a vague nod, Lady Belle reached feebly for his arm and with gentle care, Father Joseph pulled her upright. He began dressing her in the loose robes, shielding her face in the shadows of the hood. He had no shoes for her. The torn, woolen stockings she wore would have to do. A firm hand under each arm, careful not to touch the wounds on her back, Father Joseph drew Lady Belle to her feet. She swayed, biting her lip to stifle a cry.
"Walk for me, my Lady" he coaxed, sliding hands down her arms to grasp her hands.
Lady Belle lurched forward with an inch of a step then another and another. It was more than what she said she could do, and Father Joseph couldn't hide the delight he felt. "Very good, my Lady."
Descending the stairwell felt like an eternity, and Father Joseph prayed no one else would have a mind to check on her during the night. Besides her shallow breathing, they both remained silent as they climbed down, finally making it to the corridors of the top floor of the rectory.
Father Joseph's heart had sunk into his stomach as the reality of being caught flooded his mind. This was it. If they were to be caught now, they'd both die. His fingers itched for the nearly empty flask against his side, but there was no time for that.
Not a soul was stirring on the top floor and Father Joseph breathed a sigh of relief as they cleared it, descending another flight of stairs to the bottom floor. He hoped they would have the same luck there, but as they stepped down, another lamplight greeted them. Father Joseph stopped short, a little too hastily, causing Lady Belle to stumble. He caught under the arms, feeling her body tense.
"What's the matter?" the voice behind the lamplight asked in urgency.
Father Joseph huffed, his mind careening through any explanation that would suffice. "A little too much sacramental wine this evening" he chuckled, trying to make light of it.
The intruding cleric joined in, chuckling shortly before moving on and Father Joseph finally realized he could breathe again. "Are you all right?" he whispered beside the hood.
Lady Belle squeezed his arm reassuringly, and they continued on. Father Joseph's heart grew faster as the door to freedom drew closer. It was the greatest relief ever felt to step outside. He doused the fire out in the lamp, hoping the moonlight would be enough to guide them to the neighboring woodlands.
They reached the garden wall, but as they passed it, Lady Belle collapsed to her knees. "Can't go on" she murmured, bending over, laying her forehead against the ground.
Father Joseph pulled her back up. "You must, Lady Belle. I cannot go with you."
She pawed at the front of his robes. "Please, Father. You don't belong here" she managed to say with much effort.
It was not a new revelation. He'd known for many years of the corruptness that had taken hold. No, he did not belong where gold was hoarded or rites changed on a whim to suite the moment or innocent people were tortured for their bravery. Here was his chance to escape the confines, to give aid to someone in need, and the idea scared the living daylights out of him.
Father Joseph licked his lips, ravenously searching for his flask. He drained the contents, realizing too late he should have saved it for Lady Belle and her pain. He should have known there was no going back the moment he set foot in the tower.
"Let us away, my Lady" he whispered reverently, scooping her into his arms, careful where his arms rested. He was not a very strong man, but Lady Belle hardly weighted enough to hold against a gust of wind. With her head tucked against his throat and his hold on her secure, they vanished into the darkness of the woods.