Ashes

Two burly guards dragged a round older man in a blue waist coat and powdered wig into the courtroom. He struggled against them, the chains clinking around his ankles as he cried out, “What is my crime? I’ve done nothing!” The guards flung him toward the bar. The judge looked down his long eagle nose over wiry spectacles. His black robes shined in the light streaming through a tall window to the left, periwig perfectly seated atop his head. A clock of many and various gears ticked loudly on the wall behind him. The shackled man looked around wildly and swallowed. His breath raced. The clock’s pendulum swung ominously. At last the judge spoke. “Lord Robert Tremaine, you stand here accused of high treason and co-conspirator to the assassination of His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation. How do you plead?” Lord Tremaine’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He choked on the words. “Assasin— ? No. That’s not possible. I was not here when that happened.” “That does not mean you are not a co-conspirator. Answer the question.” Robert Tremaine swallowed the lump in his throat. Sweat trickled down his furrowed brow. His chains clinked softly, and he looked down at them. “I do not understand.” “Answer the question,” the judge demanded, each word louder than the previous. Robert shook his head slowly. The judge smacked his gavel and gave the order for the guards to remove the accused. Robert’s heart pounded. “Wait! Please. You and I were lads together. We were friends. Show mercy!” “I am merely a speaker for Time, Lord Tremaine. Time knows not mercy.” The judge rose slowly. “We are all Time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.” He looked to the guards and waved them on. “The dungeon.” “No!” Robert yelled. “I beg you!” The guards marched on. The halls grew darker until they wound down a dark stone staircase. Robert turned and plodded compliantly. A tear slipped down his wrinkled, ruddy cheek. Torchlight reached from the floor below, dancing on the cold wall. Standing water and human waste putrefied the air. A fat, black rat squeaked by. Robert’s skin crawled momentarily. The unflinching guards led him to a cell at the farthest end of the prison, isolated from the others. A heavy door with a single, small grill at eye level, was the only entrance. Robert’s lips trembled. “Isolation? But why? I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing.” The guards remained silent as they shook out a large iron ring fat with keys and opened the door. They escorted him inside and removed his shackles. He stood in the light of a single window that showed only blue sky, and rubbed his wrists sorely. The door groaned shut with a formidable finality. “Well look who the cat dragged in.” Robert jumped at the voice and turned. He squinted into the shadows. A silhouette of a woman sat in the corner. She rose slowly and moved toward the light. Her hair was bedraggled and she wore only prison rags of burlap and chains. She was lean and pale. “Of all the people who could be thrown in to this place with me, the last I expected was Lord Robert Tremaine.” “You know me?” The woman into the light fully. She was half Robert’s age, barely into her twenties at best. “I used to. Once upon a time.” Her eyes settled on his. It was clear she had been in this cell for a long time as her pupils had gone gray from low use. “Then you left me to make your fortune, and I have not seen you since.” Robert squinted and c****d his head to the side until a horrified realization came over him. “Rebecca?” “Hello, father.” “What… how…?” “I imagine they brought you up on charges of co-conspiracy to kill the prince. This is my fault.” Robert reached out to his daughter and gripped her shoulders. His words came in a strained breath. “What have you done?” “I killed Prince Andrew, and you created me. Therefore, you are a co-conspirator. Guilty by association.” Rebecca moved to the small window. “They put me in here because they believe I am a danger to society, and to myself. Funny how they put you in here as well.” She looked over her shoulder. “I wonder what they wish to happen to you.” “Why, Rebecca? Why would you do such a thing? My girl… my little girl.” Rebecca gazed down at her copper shackles, adorned with the carvings of gears and cogs and numbers to remind her that her penalty was the severest of all. In their world, time was unforgiving. Time was all. Life in prison was a sentence worse than death. “Shall I tell you the tale, father?” Tears streamed down Lord Robert’s face. “Why, Rebecca? Why, why, WHY?” He wiped the offending tears away and tried to compose himself. “Tell me… but first I must know. Was it worth it?” Rebecca looked up at the clear, blue sky. A smile crept upon her face.