The Cry of Her Heart - Historical Fiction

Chapter 4

The sound of ripping cloth brought silence to the room and halted everything in motion. The young woman lay where she had fallen, hushed sobs racking her small frame. Even the guarded countenances of the two henchmen seemed to reveal their astonishment at the woman's audacity; their change in expression was slight, but discernable. Had they ever witnessed anything so impulsive... or foolish?

Nathaniel himself remained frozen in incredulity, the silent bundle in his arms completely forgotten. Had this woman actually opposed him? Admiration arose involuntary within him at her uncounted bravery; not every woman would have possessed enough courage to oppose one who so obviously maintained such apparent authority. But, despite this display of virtue, she had resisted Nathaniel Spencer...This opposition necessitated specific repercussions; she must experience the due response to her impulsive action.

In spite of his firm determinations, Nathaniel was not the first to break the stillness that had overcome the room's occupants. Instead it was the two men, determined to serve their function as protectors and contributors, who were the first to resume their movement. As if as one, their large, scarred hands found their way to the polished hilts of their weapons and, their steps seeming to shake the very ground, they moved toward the crumpled body of the young woman, a dangerous glint in their eyes.

Their weapons had left their protective sheaths and were drawing closer to the young woman's unsuspecting form when Nathaniel finally turned, meeting their eyes with his own piercing gaze. Immediately a flash of realization crossed his features, soon to be replaced by anger.

"Levi! Ezra! You were not hired to be executioners!" He spat out, his stance alone appropriate intimidation. The result of his words was instantaneous. The swords were swiftly shoved back in their casings, almost as if their very hilts were burning coals. Yet, despite their obedience, it was obvious from the two men's indignant eyes that they did not appreciate the interference.

Nathaniel hardly cared. Looking down at the boy in his arms, he frowned in disgust and hastily shoved the limp body toward the closest guard.

"Hold him for a moment." He ordered. His voice was brusque and left no room for discussion.

The man grunted in reply and grudgingly took the sleeping child. A slight twitch of a bushy eyebrow was the only evidence that a spark of emotion lay beneath his gruff exterior. Even then, the action was so brief, the firm façade hardly even cracked.

Once more there was a moment of tense silence, resembling a slight, invisible cloud hovering over the room and its occupants. Then, as if a signal had been given, the two men melted once again into the shadows, taking the boy with them.

Nathaniel neither saw nor appreciated their disappearance. His focus had long since turned to the woman who still remained crouched on the floor at his feet.

He attempted to keep his voice emotionless. Still, he could not help but reveal his confusion at her action; it tainted his every word.

"How dare you attempt to stop me?"

********

Vianna attempted to swallow down the fear that threatened to impede the pathway to her lungs. Her limbs were noticeably shaking and the severity of her action was only just beginning to occur to her. She had always been recognized as a strong and outspoken young woman; still she knew with a firm confidence that the courage she had just exhibited could only have come from God. She would simply have to continue trusting His protection and grace as she suffered the consequences.

Inhaling a deep breath of cold air into her burning lungs, Vianna struggled to find her voice. It momentarily seemed to have disappeared. Fill me with your peace, Lord. She prayed silently. She lifted her eyes and forced herself to meet the stony gaze of the young man above her.

"You were taking my son." The words were said slowly and firmly, but there was simply no way to completely disguise the quiver in her voice.

The man hardly even blinked and it was not until he replied that Vianna was certain that her words were spoken aloud.

"And?" His voice was filled with mockery and chilled her to the bone. "What kind of life would he have on the street?" Eyes filled with scorn stared her down and his hand swept the room in one quick movement. "Even here, the best that you could give him is only the life of a woman living without a husband in the worst area of the city."

Vianna's eyes closed over the tears that had already begun to stream down her cheeks at his harsh words. An unspeakable weight of shame and pain settled in her heart; she feared that it would break. She simply couldn't let her son go.

"At least he has love," Vianna cried out, her tears clouding her voice. The smile that had begun to creep across the young man's lips quickly disappeared as he stared down into her earnest face.

With an unidentifiable strength filling her, Vianna only grew more impassioned. "On the nights when the biting cold is strong enough to kill a person, we may not have a blanket to keep us warm. Yet, despite it all, we have each other. We may never have enough food. Still, our love can fill our hearts even though our stomachs are empty."

********

Her words spoke a truth that Nathaniel did not wish to even contemplate, let alone acknowledge. His whole life he had chased after every earthly goal placed before him - power, position, wealth. The future held no weight in the decisions he made; he lived for the present, for himself.

Emotions had not been completely ignored, he grudgingly admitted. He felt pride and accomplishment after a long worked for mission was completed; he felt attraction towards women, for a few he might have even maintained stronger feelings; he even had feelings of love towards his mother and sister. He sincerely hoped they loved him as well. They seemed as if they did...

With a snap, Nathaniel's anger returned. Love was neither a constant nor an assurance. Life was simply too short to rely on one's emotions; as he knew personally, they often guided you wrong.

A fury at the doubt and long-suppressed emotions that now seemed to bubble to the surface caused him to react towards the only victim within reach - the woman below him.

His hand shot out to encircle her slim wrist and, with a strength fueled by emotion, he jerked her to her feet in one fluid motion. Nathaniel ignored the sharp gasp of surprise that escaped the young woman's lips and hardly noticed the grit of her teeth against the pain that flowed up her arm. He would make her see that love was not deserving of her devotion.

"Love?" The word soured as he spat it out and seemed to drift on his own cloud of disgust. "Look at your surroundings, woman!" With his finger under her chin, he forced her head to scan the dirty, dilapidated room. It was as if his words had cast a spell; the room seemed to visibly fade in color, its roof seeming to draw even closer to its eminent fate as a floor decoration. "Has love truly helped you?" Nathaniel was quick to answer his own rhetorical question and there was such a cynicism in his voice that it brought even more tears to the young woman's already overflowing pools. "Love has never been of help to you or your son and it will most certainly not bring comfort to your life on the streets!"