Windmera-Desperation

She laughed, and her tone lashed with bared claws. “Oh, very well, why not? I should like to see the look on your face when I tell you…because, by now, your precious tart has been bedded by a dozen men!”

Godwin closed his eyes. The meaning of this was not lost on him. Heather had been abducted and sold. His instinct was to kill Sara and relieve his pain. He wanted to throttle her until her eyes bulged. He wanted to pick her up and throw her out the window.

He controlled himself. His hands formed fists at his sides and his voice was low and rasping. “Indeed, do tell me more.” He needed the details if he was to find his dear-heart and bring her home.

“She was taken by Devonshire smugglers to France. There she was sold to a bordello.” Sara eyed him with glee.

Shooting stars took over Godwin’s vision. His precious Heather, carrying his child, subjected to such treatment. Would Heather be forever scarred? He would save her, he would bring her home and cherish her…he would drive the memory of the bordello out of her head. He would go to France and save her.

A buzzing sound drummed in his head. A sensation of nausea threatened, and his powerful legs nearly buckled beneath him. The thought of his Heather being subjected to this treatment was on him. All of it on him. His fault, all his fault.

And then he saw the sneer on Sara’s face. How could he stand for it? It was more than flesh and blood could bear. He took a step towards her and saw fear cross her face. She knew he was going to kill her then.

A small voice, a boy’s voice at his back called him to order, “Sir…sir,” Roderick cried out, and this got to Godwin as nothing else could. Roderick had, until the fateful night he had heard that he was a bastard, always called him papa…now it was always sir.

Godwin loved Roderick, but saw the lost look in the boy’s eyes and was saddened by it. He turned away completely from Sara and touched the boy’s fine head of black curls—gypsy curls, but it didn’t matter. The boy was his son.

He had to get away. If he didn’t, he believed he would actually kill Sara, and that was something he could not do to Roderick. She was an awful mother, but he couldn’t take her away from Roderick.

Godwin left the castle that night. He had but one person he could go to for help. They had been friends since childhood. It was to Captain John Pearson he went to. He stood pounding down John’s door, near to breaking it, blasting his friend’s name for both heaven and hell to hear and bear witness to his pain.

“John, for mercy’s sake, John!” Godwin raged outside the door.

His friend appeared and Godwin broke down.

* * * * *

Roderick was but a boy. He watched Godwin’s departure from the castle with something akin to longing. He adored the man he had b

elieved was his father. Truth to tell, he loved him a great deal more than he loved his mother.

He knew more now, understood more. He heard the servants talking and listened to every word. He realized his father loved another woman outside their home. He knew that his mother had done something awful to that woman—wicked even.

He wasn’t sure what a bordello was, but he felt bad, very bad that his mother had sent this woman against her will to a place his father…who was not really his father, thought was evil.

He had heard it all and had understood a great deal for a boy his age.

He had seen pain on Godwin’s face. Godwin may have called him a bastard, but he still treated him like a son. All these facts swirled around in the young boy’s brain and came to rest in one place. Godwin was a good man who had married his mother and had loved him like a son, but he wasn’t Godwin’s son.

Roderick stared at his mother. His mother was to blame for everything, but she was now helpless and crippled. He had a young boy’s innocence and went toward her to comfort her, hoping to derive some comfort himself. He took on a man’s work that day saying, “It is all right, Mother. He will forgive us.”

She stared blankly at him for a long moment, incapable of understanding what he felt, what tortures he was himself experiencing, and her voice was cold with contempt when it came. “Your father was a gypsy, you need to know that. How dare you wish for Godwin’s forgiveness? You stupid little bastard. Get out!”

And thus, it was confirmed.

His mother had never really loved him. In the past, he had an overabundance of Godwin’s love…and it didn’t matter how little attention he received from his mother. Now, however, he saw a future with a coldhearted mother who did not love him, and hoped that come what may, Godwin would still go on loving him.

His young heart split open and a scar formed as he ran out of the room. He would not let her see him cry. He ran outside and into the weather, brokenhearted, rejected, lost, and a part of who he would be as a man took shape that night.

~ Ten ~

THIS EXPERIENCE HAD TAKEN THE gentle spirited Heather and reshaped her. She felt an anger spur her into bravery. She was ready for a fight, come what may. It was with some authority that she finally said, “That is it, Bunky, no more. We shall suffer no longer.”

“What mean you, Miss Heather?” Bunky grumbled as he tried to stretch out in his cramped position.

“Listen to me, young man. Night has turned into day and day into night. We are weak with hunger. There is a stench…even our own stench in this awful compartment. We will die of starvation and thirst if we stay here, so we will not stay here any longer. Do you hear me? Will they make us walk the plank? My instinct says no. This is not a smuggler’s vessel. If it was, we would have already reached an English port and been done. No, this is a private vessel bound no doubt for the Indies. We cannot stay here any longer. Sooner or later, they will need grain, so we might as well show ourselves now.”

“Aye then, I’ll not argle-bargle with ye if ye be that determined. Might as well get it all over with. Like ye say, they are bound to find us here anyway. Mayhap if we come clean and offer to do a fair share of the work above?” he answered in a resigned tone.