I wait, desperately willing it to move faster, and use the time to mutter a weak-willed prayer for whatever soul it is carrying to the temple, for it is a carriage with one purpose: to transport a body – one ready to take their last breath – to the temple of Etta.
When I am level with the carriage bed, a gasp leaves my lungs.
Because it is not just anybody within. It’s someone I know.
Noleen sits propped up by a priestess. Her skin is pallid, and her eyesare vacant. Though her chest still swells and falls, I suspect it will not do so for long.
As a fresh fissure forms in my already fractured heart, the sight that I see next is enough to break it entirely: Ruben walking behind the carriage as they roll his mother to her death.
Goddess, no.
‘Ruben.’ I rush across to him.
His eyes are red and glassy with shock as he looks at me. ‘Rose? Rose …’
I go to embrace him, only for his full weight to fall on me, as though he no longer has the strength to hold his own body upright. Thankfully, I’m a lot stronger than I was back in the slums, and I hastily shift my footing so that he can rest his head on my shoulder as tremors rattle through him.
‘They said there’s nothing they can do,’ he says, his voice catching. ‘They said it was best that they take her now so she can take her last breath with the Goddess.’
‘Ruben, I’m so sorry.’
‘I should’ve acted sooner,’ he mutters. ‘I should’ve found a way to get her out of those slums.’
‘You did all you could. You know you did all you could.’
I see my words aren’t getting through to him though. His guilt drowns out all else.
I stroke his hair back in a gesture that mirrors Dinah’s earlier comforting. ‘Come. Come with me, Ruben. Come back to the High Hold.’
‘I can’t. I need … I need …’
I step back, forcing him to stand upright. As his eyes meet mine, I hold his gaze. ‘Ruben, there’s nothing you can do right now. The cloaks won’t let you stay with her in the temple, you know that. I don’t want you to be alone. Come with me. Please.’
Finally, he dips his chin in agreement. ‘Okay. Just for a little while. But can we just…?’
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
We stand together, watching as the carriage draws to a stop and Noleen’s feeble body is gently lifted out and laid upon a pall-covered bier.
Ruben’s breath trembles as he curls his fingers into my sleeve, gripping the fabric as if it might hold him together. Sadly, I know from experience that it won’t.
This will be his last memory of his mother – Noleen somewhere in the ether between life and death, too weak to even recognise him standing there.
Fuck.
Tears prick my eyes, but hastily I wipe them away. She deserves so much more.Ishould have done more to help her.
Silently, we stand as the wailers and spectators move on. This moment is just a brushstroke in the painting of their lives. Not for us though. Not for Ruben.
We remain there, watching until the temple doors creak closed and the carriage is drawn away.
Only then does Ruben break down into tears.
Chapter 11
Ruben doesn’t say a single word on the journey back, and I don’t press him. It’s not like I’m in the mood for conversation either.
Summer opens the door when we reach the house, but despite her offer of aid, I help Ruben upstairs by myself. After removing his furs, I gently lay him down onto my bed, then pull his shoes off his feet. I tuck him beneath the quilt as he stares at the wall, lost in a maelstrom of emotion that I know so well.
