Chapter 24 #3
Sophia shifted closer to Charity and saw that the tree branches parted to offer a clear picture of the funeral ceremony below.
The musicians continued to play, the whine and drone of the instruments so unique to the strange land.
Strange to me, of course, Sophia thought and rested her chin on her hand.
Meaningful, special to those who revere it.
There was a reverence to the ceremony, a tribute to honor a fallen ruler.
She could only imagine that the speed with which the ceremony was happening was to keep Mr. Darzi from putting a halt to it, and she prayed that the new prince was safe from his late cousin’s men.
Movement to the left of the pyre caught her eye, and Sophia noted a procession of men who carried a palkhi on their shoulders, in which sat a veiled woman dressed in red.
Sophia’s pulse thudded, and she hoped desperately that the widow was simply there to observe. Her hopes were dashed as the men lifted the palkhi high and, with great care, set it atop the pyre next to the wrapped body already laying there.
Get out! In her mind, she called to the widow, screamed to her. Get out! Run! Sophia felt the exact moment when Charity realized what was happening. The young girl sucked in her breath, and as the flames continued to climb steadily upward, Charity’s breath came in gasps.
Rachael’s eyes showed clear desperation and fear, but her focus remained on Charity, who had started shifting on her tree branch. Rachael gestured toward the girl. “Watch her.”
“Charity,” Sophia said. “Charity!”
The girl’s eyes were trained on the fire, and Sophia braved another look at the scene.
Flames had reached the top of the pyre, and the figure in red sitting so still was eclipsed by shafts of yellow and orange that danced and flickered.
The processional and musicians stepped back from the pyre, but still the music played.
“No!” The scream tore from Charity’s throat, and Sophia lunged at her as she crawled out farther on the branch. “No!”
Sophia pulled desperately at Charity’s shoulder, trying to find a good grip while maintaining her own perilous hold on her branch. She slid forward, braced her foot on the stone wall, and hauled Charity up against her, clamping her arms down against her body as the young girl began to sob.
“It isn’t Beatrice!” Sophia tried to tell her.
“She’s . . . she is . . .”
“Charity,” Sophia managed as she pulled both of them back toward the trunk of the tree. “Sweetheart, it isn’t your sister.”
“I know,” Charity cried, and the grief in her voice was nearly Sophia’s undoing. It wasn’t Beatrice, but it was someone else’s sister. Daughter. Even mother, perhaps? She was somebody with a life. And her end was painfully, horribly barbaric.
“Sophia.” Rachael’s voice whipped through the air, and Sophia glanced at her as she continued pulling Charity back, inch by slow inch, so terrified of the height she herself was nearly paralyzed.
“Someone is coming.” Rachael reached the lower branches of her tree and dropped to the ground. “Slide her down to me. Now.”
“Charity, we must go or we will be caught.” She murmured the words fiercely in Charity’s ear, and the meaning seemed to penetrate.
Charity began moving on her own, shimmying back toward the trunk and then down.
Sophia followed suit, her hands slippery with sweat and her dress catching and impeding her efforts with every movement.
She also reached the trunk and began her descent, wondering if she should be grateful for the darkness that hid exactly how high she really was.
A flash of light illuminated the jungle floor, followed by a tremendous crash of thunder.
Sophia was ten feet off the ground and stepping to another branch when her foot slipped, and she threw her arms around the branch closest to her.
Slipping again, she scrambled for purchase and slapped her hand down on a thinner branch, which emitted a loud croak.
Her hand smeared along a soft, compact body, and she realized with horror she had touched a toad.
A startled gasp and squeak squeezed from her as she released her hold on the tree and fell the rest of the way to the ground, landing hard on her side. Pain sliced through her hip and shoulder, and the breath had been driven from her lungs so fiercely it hurt.
Rachael and Charity scrambled to her side and hefted her upward.
“Sophia,” Rachael gasped, “we must run. Now. I am afraid the guards are coming.”
Sophia tried to propel her legs forward as the other two women held her on either side and stumbled forward.
Her breath returned by degrees, gasping and wheezing through her lungs.
Her stomach and chest hurt horribly, and the pain in her shoulder and hip had her seeing stars.
Finally, finally, she was able to move on her own, and she lifted her skirts and stumbled after the others, stopping to help one or the other when tree roots hampered their progress and sent them sprawling.
There were shouts from behind, but the noise was swallowed by thunder and the mad screeching of monkeys who were irritated at the mayhem.
Sophia looked quickly behind her as she ran, but could see nothing but a black void.
Branches whipped across her face as she turned forward, stinging and bringing forth tears.
It felt to Sophia as if they had run ten miles, though she knew that perception was a result of the fear she felt.
Eventually the vegetation thinned, and the path widened considerably.
The disappearing canopy allowed for more light that came now, unfortunately, from flashes of lightning as the moon and stars had been completely obliterated by storm clouds.
A whinny signaled their return to the curricle, and Rachael soothed the terrified horses as Sophia untangled their leads from a nearby tree.
“They may not cooperate,” Rachael said over the wind. “We haven’t a choice but to try.”
Sophia boosted Charity into the curricle seat, insisting she sit in front, and she took one horse’s reins from Rachael.
They led the horses for a time on foot until they came to the fork and the groomed path.
Sophia gave Rachael a quick hug for good luck, then climbed on the back of the curricle in the tiger’s perch.
She faced forward, as Charity had, and held on to the seat back as Rachael climbed in and clucked at the horses.