Tears of Leyden.

Naomi Medha Baysinger-Ott.

In all the times of my life, To one so fare and fine, I must give you thanks, For your endless care and grace, Thank you mom.

Sometimes in the most enveloped places, The freest hearts abide.

~Naomi M. B. -O.

Chapter 1.

I quietly lift my head from my pillow and turn it in the direction from which the soft beating waves of breath are coming from. I sit up and twist a little away from the small figure in my arms. Still holding my sisters head against me, I listen to the tune of my moeders melancholic sobs. I assemble myself a bit more and recognize the need for reassurance in the tune. I try to accustom my eyes to the dark, but teaching eye conditioning is futile, and I have no choice but to once again practice the ritual of blindly walking through the dark. I carefully set Meyleias precious head down on the pillow and start to untangle myself from the heavy covers.

When I am free, I shakily stand and breathe in the cool night air, catching a sharp intake of breeze and tasting rime. I try not to hold my breath from the cold as I make sure Meyleia is still covered and warm and then quietly step over the prickly wooden floorboards on my way to the door. I glance back once to make sure Meyleia is still motionless and dreaming. I find no stirring under the covers. I let out a staggered breath and turn away, stepping out into the space between the two bedrooms where the light coming from the flames in the hearths cannot reach. I shiver as the draft inside our main room leaks through my warm skin and chills my already cooling blood. I quicken my steps as I near the guarantee of cramps controlling the movement with my limbs.

I reach out and lightly touch my fingertips to the old wood frame as I enter Moeders room. Before I move I stand still for a moment, worriedly listening to the sound of her sobs. I slowly make my way from the door to the old bed. I wait a few moments, hesitating as I wonder whether I should even try to comfort her tonight as I had failed to the last.

Hearing her small choke, I understand my place as her eldest care and know that soon she will no longer have me as such, nor I her, considering my betrothal to Zenith Brooch. We were engaged a few years ago by my widowed moeder and by my own agreement. It was decided before the city problems began, and I now almost wish it wasnt.

I bite my lip.

Moeder? I inquire uncertainly, indecisive of my permission.

There is no response.

I pause and let the absence of sound fill the room before I hover closer. I sit down by her side. Moeder, are you ill?

A few seconds pass with no indication of there even being another person in the room. She sniffs and lets out a shaky breath, and I think I glimpse her hands lifting to her mute face. I understand. She has no reason for concerning me, especially when she knows trouble outside our family is much worse.

Should I leave you be? I respond to the silence.

There is no reply.

Moeder? I request.

She remains quiet.

Please be truthfulmay I know of your infirmity?

She swallows hard and the silence grows a little unbearable.

I wait. Moeder, please My whisper eludes the absence of sound.

I am not illmy wellbeing is contrary to your suspicions of such Her voice is frail, but the presence of it seems to fill the room, making it whole again.

Is it vader?

The room grows very still and not even the small fire crackling in the grate seems to flicker the darkness out of the room.

I hesitantly slide my hand over hers. Moederplease do not be secretive on behalf of such dispenses of your healthheis just traveling with the rest of our protectorswe are in hereand he out therewe are on both sides, doing what needs to be done for the city.

Ever since the new reign over the Netherlands I knew moeder had been troubled after vader had signed into the Dutch States Rebel Army. When the Siege began this last winter, it was only more straining for her not to worry when we heard that the rebel army had failed against our oppressors. She has become somewhat hollow and I dont blame her. I just wish I could fill that hollowness so that it would stop hurting our family. I almost wish it as much as I do to fill the hollowness I dread to soon disrupt the wall around the city (the only thing keeping the Spanish at bay).

She snatches her hand back out from under mine, glaring up as though I had just spoken words of Satan. I feel as though she has hit me.

Lyra Thimlet, her voice is quiet yet trembling, with a firm unearthing hatred for my words. I am asking you to go to bedbefore Meyleia wakes up and is troubledit only causes more work for us both.

I try to reach for her hand in apology, requesting forgiveness, but she slips it back and away from my reach. I feel my stomach twist. Moederjust tell me what is bothering youI must know or else all will be secretsas my marriage is presently I stop realizing for the first time that I had not mentioned my betrothal since vader had left for work or for protecting the Netherlands, he never truly explained which.

Her eyes soften into mine as her brow rests its case. You will leave me too, she whispers.

I shake my head. I dont wish it eitherwe could postpone it, until after vader comes back from the war. We could request to We have no say in the timing of your marriage. The dowry was paid long since the she stops, her eyes drifting off to the darkness in the room.

I think I might have just found the answer to my question. You worry of the Siege? I whisper.

She raises her eyes to meet mine and I understand all.

How long? I inquire demandingly. Why must you have gone on not telling me of?

She clenches her jaw tight and I bite my tongue before I lose the one hope I might have to hear from her. I wait. She closes her eyes and swallows as though trying to keep her cool within the house. It is quiet as the fire splits and crackles, as though playing with the absence of sound. Those two blue rings appear once again as she opens them and gazes down into her small hearth.

It has been long since I thought of itbut I was eighteen when I met your vaderwe married and came here from Hollandhe was always so calm and quiet, and never often seemed to trouble me with money or anything of the usual things in a householdI never understood how he did it untilnow I fear that I had been blind to not search for what he hid. She looks across the room distantly, and as much as I want to ask her what she means, I know to keep quiet.

Little did we know what was in store for us after Meyleia was born her face becomes as cold as stone. I remember when there was a shifttwo kings instead of the sun King, Charles she swallows again.

I know, Moeder, I half whisper it, not wanting to waste her energy telling me these histories but also not wanting to lose her confidence.

Vader had disallowed much talk of war and politics around me and Meyleia, but as the Siege closed in, he developed stronger bonds to it himself and seemed to find it necessary for me, since I was nearly eighteen, to know basic facts. He taught me of political affairs away from Moeder, not intending to worry her about disenfranchising my childhood as she would have called it. Of course it was no such thing. He merely took strong factors and twisted them to outline what was going on as not to frighten me, but to enlighten me. He constantly used this as his object, and it was a good one, but it hardly won in arguments with moeder.

The stories he told me were of a king, called the Sun King, whose lands never both watched the sunset together. One side of the land was where the sun rose, and the other side was where the sun set. He left the throne to two of his heirs and his sons were to split into two different portions of the lands. Our side of the bargain, the Netherlands, had received the Spanish King Philip II who had the Spanish colonies in America, had Spain, and had Holland. Vader must have lightened this a bit, but he told me the King disliked our family religion, and so we had to be careful with our practice. He told me that the King targeted different portions of his land, those that contained religious affairs such as our own; Protestantism.

Then, there was a spark, and it was taxes.

Around this stage of the build up to our own city being targeted, vader left us to be one amongst many in the Dutch Rebel Army.

The Netherlands was finally put up with his rules in reign and revolted. This was the start of our misfortune. The Duke of Alba came, sent by our King, and forced all aristocracy from the land. He targeted Alkmaar, and when he lost it to a William the Silent, he charged on to our city, Leyden.

During one of my surveyed visits with Zenith (as we had a few to get to know one another before the final engagement) I learned in depth the full condition of our city. When we discussed it, he told me the King promised that all Protestants in his grounds, such as us, must change religion immediately. Netherlands cities were under great gore and hanging already, and in time he turned on us, as we were great leverage on Hollands part. Whatever happened in Leyden was surely to be the outcome for the rest of Holland. When he struck here, he did what forced us to comply best, which was to disrupt our provisions, food being the weight that he chose to use as power to get to our people. A very good one too, considering that we have no other way of getting by.

Leyden is such a tiny city in the middle of the Southern province of the Netherlands, that it does not produce its own food. It lies where the Rhine cuts through its path heading west, surrounding Leyden in a moat which separates it from the other lands. Around Leyden is a diked wall, and all cargo and main supplies come through this from the vaster places where growing is not an issue, and where now the Spanish banned any ships entrance but their own.

There was one man out there, who moeder calls William of Orange or the Silent Prince. He was a noble aristocracy that was forced to leave, and when lifting the Siege of Alkmaar was a success, he turned his attention here. Immediately, like others, our people of the Netherlands changed our loyalty to his power over King Philip IIs. He lead the Dutch Rebel Army (a Protestant army) against the Spaniards with my vader in his militia, a theory I know well because of Moeders constant tracking of the army after vaders engagement in it. William the Silent has been determined for the past few months to save Leyden, but even though we followed his directions; recently knocking down some of the dikes around our city to help us in the way that had helped Alkmaar (by flooding the low lands for its relief), have endured this slow process of food vanishing, and have kept up to task with constantly keeping up the wall from the Spanish attacks, he fell sick with a fever and everything was put on hold.

We have heard that soon William would be back from his disability, but we dont know when or how long it will take. Already it has been at least another two weeks since his movement towards the city. There were rumors that a carrier pigeon brought a message that he would take up his fight once more, as his health was strengthening, and in the message was also an order to cut the dikes. This rumor motivated us. We cut the dikes as he said, but, unfortunately, God evidently had other plans and the wind decided to push the water in the opposite direction.

We stood still, starved and held our ground. There were even rumors of people going cannibalisticGod forbidbut it has never been strong enough to beat out these Spanish demons.

Moeder takes a breath and it rattles out hazardously. I can see that she is tired. I relate and understand why. She sighs and keeps her gaze settled calmly on the fire, the flames glowing in her eyes and making patterns run across her irises.

Now I see that your vader was holding more back from me than I believed, she takes another long gaze past me into the room before speaking again. It is possible that he lost moneyor took it and left us with nothing but our clothes and homeLyra, I love youand want you and Meyleia safe. I trust in himSir Orange and his rebelbut what if they fail? We will starveI cant bear to watch my children She bites her lip a moment and carries on more rushed now, as though just developing it. We must get out of herealready many old and young have diedit has been going on for three months nowand we have suffered nearly one month without actual mealsand Meyleia is still too little to understand or to go to GodI was fine when we were rationedfine to have two meals a day, but now She looks straight at me and I realize what she is implying. We will starve if we do not try.

Moeder, they could I understand, but what matters more? She interjects. Our safety and fear or our trying and having faith?

I swallow down the lump in my throat and want to get out the words in order to warn her, but she is already somewhere inside her mind, meditating over how to escape.

They will kill us anyway nowno matter if we surrender She meets my gaze and once more a firm look casts itself over the once so gentle and beautiful face of my moeder.

You, Lyra Thimlet, are not of age to understand these matters as I do. I forbade you to discuss this with your friends or Zenith. I asked you to not time and time again, and here you come ranting about history and battle which I never speak of. I believe I am the mistress of this household and will not accept further opinions of this topicI do not need my lifeand if you are so selfish as to not save the little sister you have left then do as you think you would do best at doing.

I want to fall off the bed and beg like a dog, a mutt in need of the recognition of my constitution and instinct telling me to warn her, but I am weak to her words and must obey.

Go to bed. It holds no acceptation.

I halfheartedly rise and step back onto the path to my room. My mind is empty yet I feel full of something indescribable. I step quickly through the small dark way between the two doors. When I enter the room I find Meyleias little body turned towards the door facing me, her eyes open. I sigh and join her in the cold bed, bringing her in close and trying to find warmth. She squirms in closer and I kiss and stroke her head, knowing the young body in my arms had no care but to dance and play. I love her, but how can I trade the life of others for one young one so close yet so far in the mental sense from me?

I hear her breathe something to me, questioning if all is alright. I swallow down the ire in my throat and pull her into my chest. Go to sleep and Ill tell you all in the morning.

She peeks up and I find her lavender blue eyes innocent and lovely, captivating as usual. Moeder she inquires, her baby accent quiet and unsure of permission. Is she better yet?

I pull her back in and she buries her smooth warm face in my neck. She is tired, I reply tenderly. I only know that you must be too I comb my fingers through her slightly tangled hair.

It will get better. I decide. It has to get better.

You must sleep to find dreams for her to get better.

She is quiet. I can feel the absence of her voice ringing against my ear. My mind scatters with nothing left to tend to. I sigh and close my eyes, turning my face into her hair and keeping her close for warmth.

To be so selfish as to not save your little sisters life I press a little closer and tell myself it is not what she meant. I dont think like thatdo I? I feel the tiny body against me and for a moment all else is absent. No. I command myself to relax. It was not a matter of Meyleia; it was a matter of safety. Of how others might follow our example and all would be ruined for the city if we were all fleeing the truth of the moment, which was that no matter what we did now, or how much we begged to surrender, we would be massacred. At this thought I rest exhausted yet tense, praying for the best for the city and begging for release from the imprisonment.

Chapter 2.

I awaken slowly, the crust on my lashes making it difficult to open my eyes. They feel sore and cold, exhausted after last nights endeavors and yesterdays activities. I look around the room and find myself still lying in bed as sunlight streams past my bedroom window, barely brushing into my vision with sense. I frown. The beams of light are much too golden for what they shouldve been at waking hours. I sit bolt upright but stop as the blood rushes to my head. What time could it be? Eight oclock? I feel the sore twinge in my sides from lifting loads to the wall to mend the damage made by the attack from last week return. We were still trying to patch up the destruction made, so as to not let them get any advantage on us in another surprise attack.

After a moment, I swallow down the pain and rise from the bed, my shoulders stiff and muscles disturbing my movements with their cramped condition. I look to the door and recall walking through it when it was too dark for me to see past the frame. Hearing no movements close to the door, I turn to my dresser and slip my nightdress down my shoulders.

Last nights conversation grows to an uneasy whispering in my ear. My heart thuds uncomfortably with thoughts of moeders words, and I have to turn my mind to other responsibilities to distract myself. I dress slowly, trying to calm it and take my time. I feel like an intruder in two different parties, half wanting to obey the state of starvation, half wanting to follow in my moeders footsteps. I turn away from my small dresser as I finish lacing up the bodice. My fingers feel clammy and I become irritated with my apprehension. I comb down my hair with my hands and ignore the option to properly tie it back with the work of fixing on a coif or another tight cap. Not wanting to remain delaying my assistance any longer, I step for the door.

I stir at our morning brew which is also the luncheon soup. It is hardly soupy, and more like a pitiful bowl of boiled water and what used to be the rest of our unfortunate vegetable garden. I turn as I hear a small thud and am careful to examine what I find on the floor. It is merely Meyleia who dropped her small purse of pebbles. I sigh and she looks at me innocently, knowing that the more she does this the more our floor gets scratched, and how little she needs to care about this since she is still years from being held accountable. I envy her for this freedom, but also love her for demonstrating it to me.

I watch as she goes back to her play, taking out one stone at a time and laying them out on the ground, biting her lip as she concentrates on counting as I taught her lately. I add some salt from our savings after our last import of the condiment. The soup begins to bubble sparsely and I hear the pot groan as if complaining. I had told moeder a few months before the siege that we needed a new pot, but since then I had not mentioned it, especially since food started becoming so scarce that there was hardly a point in cooking anything but meat.

Suddenly, a sheer sound rings high above the groan. The squeal rips through the air and, startled, I nearly tip the soup off the fire. I turn back to Meyleia. She is unharmed. Relieved, I let out a breath. Then turning on her, I let my face mold into scorn.

Meyleia dont scream like that unless I stop as I follow her stare outside our house.

At first, I think it must be an illusion. It has to be. How could he have gotten inside without alarming our people? As I stare however, his image does not fade from a hunger hallucination as I hoped it would. I freeze, my jaw automatically snapping shut as he gazes into our hut.

Lya, she calls. It comes as a trembling whine.

Her nickname for me has not changed since she was saying her first words as a baby. It is what wakes me. I leave the soup still brewing over the fire and step towards her, careful not to take my eyes off the man still staring at us. I reach for her and still holding her purse she lets me scoop her up into my arms. The man does not move. I do not either.

I observe him carefully, making sure there is no weapon within his reach. I cannot see one, but I know he must be carrying his deterrent.

I hold Meyleia tighter as his power registers, and I remember hearing there was a municipal guard now in Leyden who had breached the wall. I had hoped he would stay clear of our people and just watch provisions, and that his friends would not join him, but as he stands here, I see that the first hope was already too much to dream for.

Finally, I know standing here wont change the vivid stare between us, and slowly I set Meyleia down on her feet. She reaches up for me but I shake my head and dare to break eye contact with the officer to give her a look of promise. She lets me go, her lavender blue eyes round and full of fear but some evident trust. I start for the window I see him through. I stop within three feet of it, avoid it, and go for the open door, his eyes following my every movement. I swallow hard from the pressure rising in my throat. I dont think I can, but I do my best to force out the words.

May I help you with something? I ask it softly, out of habitually practicing the polite etiquette I was taught as a child.

His eyes run up and down my body, as though trying to plan something I resist to be intimidated by. He smiles a little and I almost let fear run through my system and drive me back to the middle of the house where I was safer. I do not, however, allow it to do this.

What is it that you want? I ask boldly.

He eyes me contentedly then glances at Meyleia.

I feel that I know all. If you plan to interact with my sister or me, sir, it will not do much good for either of us, so please kindly leave unless some other business calls you here.

He smiles artfully, but I can see that behind the warmth there is more than kindness, there is cool desire, a lust, something which can rule mans actions. It is neither your little sister nor other business which brings me here to your quarters. Dear Ms.Telmith? I believe it isam I correct?

I swallow hard. On the contrary, I say too softly for how I feel. It is Thimlet.

My pulse is now thudding just as hard as my heart was at the thought of moeders plans. Names are given easily to guards, are they not? If a neighbor was asked they would tell someone of higher rank nobility than they were. I remember Meyleia is still behind me and make myself let it go for later.

He smiles and looks down. Ahso it is, he meets my gaze. Or it will be until after the siege has been won.

I clench my jaw shut but open it once again. I dont know where he is taking me, but in all I dont like where it seems we are going. My apologies, but I must ask you to leave me be as I am or there will be many consequences in your future as a loyal officer to the King.

He chuckles under his breath and looking down comes a little closer. I hold my ground. You are much too sweet to desert here in this dusty cottage he raises his gaze back to mine. So I must excuse myself from my duties and make an acquaintanceship with a certain feminine rarity of the lower class deserved to be in the ranks of the higher good. He smiles a dry suspicious smile and I force my legs to hold still. What harm and how could sightseeing and coming over such a fortune as you possibly do or be indirect to my purposeI am here on business of the King whom Ive heard you so graciously admire. He smiles at his own joke and continues. He admires you in the very least for your fortunes. Losing you would be costlybut more costly for those who love you if you were demolished by us, he grins further. I was given the responsibility of inspecting thisrow of cottagesor hutsnow I must ask youdo you prefer hanging or drowning? His words are like the hot soup I just left on the stove, it burns me like I had tipped towards myself at another one of Meyleias screams.

I stay firm. I cannot let you do thisit isnt Actually it is There was a small whimper coming from behind me and I try hard not to let his closeness envelope and win my calm. I do not move. His hands find my body and I am brushed into the wall. He leans in and I am utterly helpless but for words. Why else would my immense power over you be so strong if I was not paying respect to the King? he leers. BesidesI am here on business I place my hands over his and try to redirect them off, but his hands tighten. No permission is required I feel his hand tilt up my chin and I am not to defend myself. I must not, for fear of Meyleias safety. I breathe shakily and close my eyes as I feel his other hand drift and rest over the curve of my hip. I nearly let fear control me. Confusion and Meyleia are all I have left.

I reinforce myself.