The Light of Elysium

21 - Glimmer in the dark

           
The door to the tower room opens and I am unceremoniously thrown in.  Then the door slams shut, pitching the room into darkness.

I lie in a heap where I have fallen and don't have the will to move. Wracking sobs tremble through my battered frame and tears soak into the grimy wooden floorboards. The eagle croons as if trying to soothe me. 

Finally, I can cry no more, but the pain, both physical and mental is almost overwhelming. 

The silence is broken by the sound of the door unlocking. Curling into a protective ball, I wish that I could just disappear.  Rather than striding footsteps, there are shuffling feet and clinking crockery, accompanied by the scent of food. Unfurling, I push myself upright.

The room is illuminated by a lantern and a grey-clad male servant is stood at the table. He turns and approaches with a knife in one hand, but his eyes are down cast. I am uncertain whether he means harm. Still avoiding eye contact, he brings his wrists together and holds them out.

Ah! I understand and offer up my bound wrists. Several slices and I am freed from the hateful bindings. I grimace at the red raw patches where the rope has bitten into tender flesh.

"Thank you."

His eyes, the eyes of a broken man, flicker up to mine for just an instant before returning to the floor.  I wonder morosely, how long before I'm that broken?

Then he shuffles out and locks the door behind him. I'm alone once again, but at least with food and light.

On the table is a steaming bowl of stew, a hunk of bread and an earthenware goblet filled with water. Though the sight stirs my hunger, my hands are filthy, so I cross over to the alcove behind the stairwell, which I found earlier.  I pull back the once plush green velvet curtain, now faded and spotted with mildew.

The image in the tarnished mirror causes me to freeze. Dark ringed eyes stare out of a pale, tear stained face, framed with lank hair. A livid bruise blazes on one cheek and finger marks, blue tinged with yellow, encircle my neck.

With shaking hands, I pour cold water into the chipped bowl and wince in pain at the movement. Gingerly, I peel off my clothes and stand in my underwear.  A sob catches in my throat at the sight of bruising on my back, legs and arms. With splotches of green, blue, red, purple and black I could almost have taken part in a festival of colour celebration, although my body reflects a sharing of hate, not love.

Taking a wet rag, I hold it against my tender skin and the cold water brings some relief until, teeth chattering, I am forced to stop and dress in my lightest nightgown.

Returning to the table, my stomach rebels at the thought of food, but I force myself to nibble at the bread. The eagle shifts agitatedly and stares at me intently.

"Are you hungry my friend?"

The eagle bows its head. I take a chunk of meat and carefully post it through the golden bars. Stretching out the eagle delicately takes the offering and then wolfs it down. I pick up another piece of meat and feed it more. For the first time since coming to this dreadful castle a smile graces my face at the simple pleasure of helping another.

The eagle rubs its head against the bars and risking my fingers, I scratch its neck. I can't believe how tame it is.

Suddenly exhausted, I climb into the narrow bed. The bedsprings groan and the sheets feel cold and smell damp. Shivering, I will sleep to claim me quickly.

.....

I awake to find the old man with the golden eyes perched on the end of my bed. The pity in his expression causes me to well up and he holds me while I sob into his chest.