Part 19 (1/2)
When she didn't answer, the man with the black bushy hair leaned toward her. He whispered something in her ear and she spat at him. He turned to the governor and said something, softly, and they started back toward the town, Emer stumbling behind, tugged by her bound hands. David followed, all the while looking at Emer's face and trying to gain some sort of idea, any idea, of what to do. She looked genuinely terrified, and said only one thing he could understand before the three men put her onto the back of a cart and took off.
She said, ”French b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”
The small prison smelled like death-a mix of s.h.i.+t and sweat, gangrene, vomit and fear. Emer was locked in a cell by herself, the only light a reflection from above where one small window, too skinny for escape, graced the stone wall. She could hear nothing but the m.u.f.fled sounds of the village outside and the few other prisoners moaning.
When David came to see the governor to plead for her freedom, at the risk of his own, he was sent away before he had a chance to speak.
”Do I look like a stupid man to you?” the governor asked. ”I know who that is is down there.” down there.”
”But-”
David was ushered out by the Frenchman, who smiled at him the whole way and spoke only when he reached the door. ”She's mine,” he said. ”Forget about her.”
Two days pa.s.sed before anyone came to see Emer. She'd been given no food or water, and had lapsed into a determined trance. She sat cross-legged with her arms folded in her lap, refusing to lie down in the filth. She prayed a little, but knew that no matter how hard she prayed, the Frenchman would return and she would have to endure him. When she heard footsteps outside her cell door, she tensed and readied her body for what was about to happen.
But he only reached in and grabbed her by the hair, pulling until she finally regained enough balance in her numb legs to walk behind him. Before they came to the prison exit, the Frenchman pulled two wrist cuffs from his pocket, twirled them on his fingers, and fastened them tightly around her. He straightened her hair with his greasy hand and caressed her left cheek.
”We meet again, my little Irish girl. This time you will not run away, I a.s.sure you.”
He walked her upstairs to the governor's small office and stood her in front of him. She s.h.i.+vered in her own sweat, looking pathetic and felt a louse crawl in her hairline.
The governor was a slender man, too skinny (Connacht skinny in Emer's eyes), with a pointed face and large ears. He wore an excessive amount of jewelry for a man, and a ruffled blouse with an enormous collar.
”Do you admit, now, to the charge of murder, woman?” he asked, spreading his ringed fingers before him, tapping his fingertips. ”Are you hungry enough?”
Emer thought about this for a few seconds and nodded her head. Hungry or not, she wasn't ashamed of murder anymore.
”Can you not speak?”
”She has little English,” the Frenchman offered.
”Are you an ignorant, then?”
Emer stretched her shoulders and made a clinking sound with the cuffs.
The governor turned to the Frenchman, laughing. ”Some good she'll do you as a wife, man! How will she know what you want for your dinner?”
Emer eyed two sweet pastries on the governor's desk. ”Do you want these?” he asked her.
”When is my trial?” she asked.
The governor looked over to the Frenchman, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged.
”Two weeks,” the Frenchman said.
”Two weeks,” the governor said.
”Can I go back to my cell now?”
”I don't see why not,” the governor answered, looking to the Frenchman for clues. ”Would you like to take her back?”
He grabbed her roughly and walked her back to the prison below. When they reached the entrance, he left the cuffs on her and ran his hands over her body, stopping twice at her bosom and once at her bottom, where he squeezed her and left bruises. ”G.o.d you stink, woman,” he said. ”We'll have to wash you before you board my s.h.i.+p.”
”I'll be swinging in two weeks,” Emer said, ”so you had best get your fill of me while I'm alive.”
”Oh, you silly girl!” He unlocked her cuffs and kicked her into the tiny cell and locked the door. ”You still don't understand anything, do you?”
Emer sat in her cell for two weeks. Once a day they brought a bucket, a handful of dirty animal fat, and a small cup of sour water. She spent her time thinking about everything-the Frenchman, the governor, the prison, but mostly about David and her crew. Had they taken her share and gone back to the cruising ground?
What had the Frenchman meant when he'd called her a ”silly girl”? She'd seen how the governor relied on him. She'd seen how the Frenchman seemed to be the one in charge. Would he steal her now and finally make her his slave? She thought about killing him.
Four weeks later, she'd seen no one but the guard who brought her food and water. Two months later, she took to sobbing at night, wondering what would become of her life. Four months after that, she made a plan to bribe the judge and governor. Six months pa.s.sed, then eight months.
Ten months since her capture, and Emer still sat cross-legged in the small cell. She'd lost so much weight and energy that she could hardly do more than sleep. Her legs suffered from a lack of circulation and one of her toes had begun to rot. The stink was unbearable-a sort of inner stench, which she could taste in the back of her throat-and she wondered if she'd live long enough to hang at all.
One day she heard more than a single set of footsteps approaching her cell at feeding time, and two voices mumbling to each other. The Frenchman took one look at Emer, gasped, and turned to the prison keeper.
”What the h.e.l.l have you done done to her? You d.a.m.ned idiot! She's nearly dead!” He stormed back toward the stairway and up the steps. Emer could hear him cursing and yelling the whole way, saying things like, ”She's no good to me now! How would you like it if I killed to her? You d.a.m.ned idiot! She's nearly dead!” He stormed back toward the stairway and up the steps. Emer could hear him cursing and yelling the whole way, saying things like, ”She's no good to me now! How would you like it if I killed your your woman?” woman?”
She sat very still and put her hands to her face. Bones jutted from every angle and her eyes blinked uncontrollably. Did she really look as bad as she felt? As bad as she smelled?
When the Frenchman returned, he carried two blankets. He unlocked the cell and helped Emer crawl out. Her limp leg dragged behind and embarra.s.sed her, but he didn't seem to notice. She felt nothing in one foot below the ankle, and her muscles were so weak she couldn't move from exhaustion. The Frenchman wrapped the blankets around her and picked her up like a small child. Only then could Emer feel how weightless she'd grown. In the light of the stairway could she see her legs-skinnier than any in Connacht, not to mention a lot more discolored. Emer had gone green and yellow-not just on her feet but everywhere. Just a glimpse made her head flop down, and she went unconscious.
When she awoke in the governor's office, she was alone. Since she was too weak to escape, they hadn't handcuffed her or tied her to any furniture. On the desk, there was a plate of fruit and a large was.h.i.+ng bowl of water. She heard quarrelling in the next room.
”You wanted her imprisoned. I did what you wanted.”
”I didn't want her dead.”
”If you wanted her healthy and strong, why didn't you take her with you?”
”You fool! You brainless idiot!”
”What did you expect from me? It's not my fault she was left for nearly a year!”
”You could have given her more to eat! You could have let her walk a bit.”
”I have no say in what they feed the sc.u.m down there. And I most certainly took your orders seriously when you said not to let another man touch her. Did you think I could do that if I was parading her around the prison at the same time? You told me to keep her safe. I kept her safe. She's not dead. You can have her now. There's nothing so wrong with her that food can't cure.”
Emer heard movement and a loud slap. ”Not dead? dead? You come with me. Come look at this ... this ... You come with me. Come look at this ... this ... thing!” thing!” The door of the office swung open and the two men entered. The Frenchman pointed. ”Look at The door of the office swung open and the two men entered. The Frenchman pointed. ”Look at this this. This is not not a woman! This is a ghost, Robert! You have given me a ghost for all my trouble! We had a deal- a woman! This is a ghost, Robert! You have given me a ghost for all my trouble! We had a deal-this was no part of that deal.” was no part of that deal.”
”I said I would make sure she was here when you returned. She is is here, is she not?” here, is she not?”
The Frenchman pulled a loaded pistol from his waist and pointed it at the governor's left leg. ”I'll have that map back now, and those rings.”
”Don't be ridiculous.”