CHAPTER 1108: A CONFESSOR’S PYRE (PART TWO)

When Bors Lothian attacked Jocelynn, healing her had taken a considerable toll on Eleanor’s body. She appeared gaunt and withered, as though she’d spent months at sea, subsisting on meager rations while the blistering sun wring the moisture from her body. At the time, she insisted that she would likely recover, given time, rest and a good diet to rebuild her body.

What she’d suffered then, however, paled in comparison to the state of her body now. Her skin looked paper thin, stretched across bones that looked brittle and frail. There didn’t seem to be almost any muscle left on her body, and her once raven dark hair was now as brittle and white as an old crone’s.

Her body was covered by nothing but a thin shift, and her wrists were bound with heavy iron shackles that were attached to an iron bar, preventing her from clasping her hands in prayer, even at the end of her life.

"Merciful Light," Albyn muttered, pressing his hand to his lips as he stared in horror at the woman who had been a gentle, calming presence in the council of advisors that Lady Jocelynn had begun to gather around herself.

In the corner, there were burned, charred tatters of her red and gold robes, but the single largest piece was still clutched in Eleanor’s hand, held as close to her chest as she could bring it while she knelt in supplication to the Holy Lord of Light.

"I’m here, Eleanor," Jocelynn said softly as she let go of Captain Albyn in order to kneel next to her cousin’s remains. "I made it out because of what you did," she whispered. "I would have given in without your gift. You saved me," she said, reaching out with a trembling hand to gently stroke Eleanor’s brittle, white hair.

"Albyn," Jocelynn said several silent moments later. She didn’t know how long she’d been kneeling next to her cousin’s body, but she knew she couldn’t stay here, and she couldn’t leave Eleanor here any longer either. "I need a covered wagon to take her to the Temple, something to carry her on and a shroud to wrap her in. And the keys to her shackles," she added, holding out a hand for the iron ring of keys that her rescuer had used to set her free.

"I’ll arrange it," Albyn promised. "I should take you to your chambers first," he added. "It isn’t safe to leave you here when the men outside might turn on you. I, um, I laid them out as gently as I could, but they could wake at any moment."

"Then go quickly," Jocelynn commanded, turning to look at him with cold, seafoam green eyes and cheeks stained by far too many tears. "I won’t leave her alone. She didn’t abandon me, I won’t abandon her now."

"I understand," Albyn said as gently as he could while he passed over the keys. "But I think that Confessor Eleanor would also..."

"Go," Jocelynn commanded sternly as she turned back to start removing the shackles from her cousin’s body. "If you’re not going by the time I’ve finished, I’m carrying her to the temple myself."

At that moment, Jocelynn sounded more like her father than any time Albyn had ever heard her sound before, and he knew exactly what that tone meant. She really would do it, even if it meant that she had to walk through the worst of the hail storm outside all by herself, she really would carry her cousin all the way to the Temple. Faced with that kind of determination from the lady he’d chosen to follow, there was only one thing the former sailor could do.

"Yes, my Lady," Albyn said over his shoulder as he strode out of the dungeon cell, breaking into a sprint as soon as he was in the hallway. Thankfully, this time, as he passed the guards who were still recovering from the beating he’d given them, no one was stupid enough to bar his way.

For Albyn, everything took too much time. He shouted at the servants in the stables as if they were the most unruly of deckhands, demanding fresh horses for Lord Owain’s carriage even though they’d only just returned it to the carriage house. He sent maids scrambling to fetch not only an appropriate shroud for Eleanor, but a warm fur cloak for Jocelynn and food from the kitchens.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but in truth had been little more than a quarter of an hour, he was able to return to Jocelynn’s side, accompanied by a pair of guardsmen who swore on their lives that they’d cause no trouble for Albyn or Lady Jocelynn.

"Thank you, Albyn," Jocelynn said, as she gently wrapped Eleanor’s body in the soft wool blanket that Albyn brought her, tending to her fallen cousin before she was willing to accept the fur cloak for herself.

"It’s the least I could do," he said as he watched the delicate young lady moving her cousin’s body onto the litter that the guardsmen had brought with them. Even now, she refused to allow anyone to touch Eleanor’s body, and she hovered protectively nearby as the guardsmen carried Eleanor away and placed her within the carriage.

For Jocelynn, time moved strangely as she accompanied her cousin to the Temple at the heart of Lothian City. It seemed like no time at all had passed between the moment when Albyn left to fetch the carriage and the moment he returned to her side, yet the carriage ride seemed to stretch on for an eternity when it only took a few minutes.

Though, perhaps it wasn’t the ride that took so much time, but rather the excruciating wait once they’d arrived at the temple to summon someone who could take responsibility for receiving a grieving noblewoman who had come to bid farewell to a woman who was both her cousin and one of the Church’s own Confessors.

Eventually, however, the doors of the carriage opened to reveal High Priest Aubin himself, wearing a shining white fur cloak over the robes of his office to protect himself from the cold as his long, white hair whipped around his age-lined face in the chilly winter wind.

"Lady Jocelynn," Aubin said gently, furrowing his bushy, white brows in worry as he observed the grief-stricken young woman’s protective posture as she hovered by her cousin’s body.

Aubin was no stranger to grief. He’d counseled countless children as they mourned their parents, wives mourning their husbands, soldiers mourning the passage of one of their own, and countless other pairings of people who had come to bid their loved ones goodbye. But he only saw people behaving the way Jocelynn did when they had survived the most unspeakable of crimes, and the person they were protecting hadn’t.

"I’ve brought several sisters with me to care for Confessor Eleanor while we prepare her pyre," he said gently, standing aside to reveal the presence of half a dozen women wearing white robes trimmed in gold.

"You can help them if you’d like," he offered when he saw reluctance flickering across the young woman’s face. "You can stay with her as long as you want. Or, if you’d rather, you can join the brothers who are gathering wood and blessed oil for her pyre. However you would like to help, we won’t turn you away," he offered gently.

Everyone grieved in their own way, and seeing the way Jocelynn’s body curved protectively around Eleanor’s remains, Aubin was certain that she would be grieving for a long time to come.

At times like this, even though there were those in the Church who would insist that the rituals of the church be followed to the letter, and that only members of the clergy should prepare the body of a priest or Confessor like Eleanor for the pyre, Aubin refused to allow rules and tradition to prevent him from healing the wounded and comforting the grief-stricken. Right now, Lady Jocelynn appeared to be both.

"I, I’ll stay with her," Jocelynn said, relieved that the old priest seemed to understand. She’d been ready to argue if they tried to take Eleanor away from her. She at least wanted to be present to make sure that no one decided to treat her like a heretic or a witch because of Percivus’s accusations. If they did, she didn’t know how she could stop them, but she was determined to try. Now, she was just grateful that she wouldn’t have to.

"Come with me," Aubin said, holding out a frail hand, covered with age spots, to help her out of the carriage. "I’ll stay with you as well. We can pray for Confessor Eleanor together," he offered gently.

"And while we do," he said in a kind, sympathetic tone as he felt the warm energy flowing through Jocelynn’s body when he took her hand. "Perhaps you can tell me what happened to your cousin, and why she needed to call down a Miracle of Protection to keep you safe from it..."