Page 12 of Dancing On Air

Chapter2

Connor closed up the back of his wagon as the gravediggers threw the last shovelfuls of dirt atop the thief that had been executed today. The man was buried in a prisoners’ cemetery, far from the castle and on the outskirts of town. No one convicted of a crime and killed for it could be buried on holy ground.

He turned his head to see the church nearby. A graveyard next to it was enclosed by an iron fence. It was where his mother was buried. This made him wonder where he and his father would be buried once they died. He wasn’t even sure a hangman was allowed to be buried amongst prisoners, and neither did he want to be.

“Connor, let’s go,” said his father, climbing aboard the wagon and taking the reins.

He spied Eleanor in the distance, leaving the gravesite with her arm around the grieving widow.

“Not yet,” said Connor, brushing off his hands. “I want to stop and visit Mother’s grave first.”

“We’re not allowed in the church graveyard and you know it.” His father coughed a few more times.

“I’ll be fast. No one will see me. Go on without me. I’ll walk home.”

“Walk?” asked his father. “That will take too long.”

“I don’t care. I need time alone to think.”

“Don’t be long. It’s your turn to cook, and your brothers and sister will be hungry since they’ve been hunting all day.”

“I’ll be stopping by Francesca’s grave on the way home, too,” he said softly, feeling the void of his sister more and more every day. She’d died over the winter from the sweating sickness. His other siblings had been ill as well, but they’d recovered. Poor Francesca wasn’t as lucky.

“The dead don’t know if we come to visit or not,” said his father. “Don’t be wasting your time.”

“When did you get so hard-hearted, to speak that way about your own wife and child?” snapped Connor, knowing his father hadn’t been like this when Connor was little.

“I suppose, being around the dead so often, I’ve realized that once a person is gone, they’re gone. There is no sense crying over it.”

“At one time you never would have said such a thing,” said Connor. “You killed because someone spoke badly of Mother once she passed away.”

“That was a mistake and we both know it.”

“Life is precious, but you don’t seem to care anymore.”

“I’m going home to lie down. Don’t be long,” said his father, slapping the reins against the horse and leaving. The creak of the cart wheels echoed in his ears. At one time they had used that wagon to bring the family on outings. His mother would pack up some food, and Connor and his siblings would hop in the back, happy to be spending time with their parents. They’d go to the lake and spread a blanket on the ground, and although nobles weren’t supposed to see much sun, they’d lie down on the ground and look up at the clouds, never telling a soul what they did.

Aye, that wagon once represented love and happiness. Now, it was only used to haul the dead to their final resting place.

Connor turned and pulled his cloak closer around him, heading for the cemetery. He was so distraught today that he hoped talking to his deceased mother would help to ease his mind.

* * *

Eleanor was aboutto get into the wagon with the nuns and start back to St. Anne’s Abbey when she noticed Connor heading over to the cemetery. He was alone, and his father had already left. Her heart ached for him. She figured he was going to his mother’s gravesite.

“Hurry up, Eleanor. We need to get back to the abbey,” said her friend, Sister Barbara.

“Just give me a minute,” she told them. “I need to make a quick visit to the cemetery first.”

Eleanor hurried over to the cemetery, slipping inside the iron gate, looking for Connor. She was sure she saw him coming this way. Sure enough, she spotted him kneeling down at his mother’s grave. She got closer and hid behind a gravestone, peeking out at him, hoping he didn’t see her.

“Mother,” she heard him say in a muffled voice. “This is for you. I know roses were always your favorite.” He gently laid a single wild rose atop her grave. Still down on one knee, his head lowered, and Eleanor had to listen closely to hear what he had to say next. “Father is ill and it will not be long before he joins you. Then I will have to take his place as hangman.”

The wind picked up, making it hard to hear. She had to step out a little, cocking her head and listening intently.

“I never wanted this. You know that,” continued Connor.

When Eleanor moved, she stepped on a twig. It snapped, making a sound. Connor’s head shot up and when it did, she didn’t dare to move, let alone breathe. Then he continued without looking her way, but she swore he must have known she was watching when she heard his next words.