Fire of the Inquisitor

Helena brought a spoon of the hot stew to her mouth and blew on it. Bowman looked up at her with his big brown eyes and started to whine. She smiled and tasted the stew, it was decent. Then, she tore off some of the fat from the boar meat she hadn’t used and threw it to the big dog. Bowman happily caught the meat and chomped on it while wagging his tail rapidly.

Bowman was a war dog and her father’s prized possession. Many of his bedtime stories were retellings about the heroic acts of the loyal animal and how he saved her father’s life more than once. Tragically her father was killed in the final days of the war and Bowman was so devastated by his master’s death that his fellow human soldiers had to carry the dog home. Helena, who had always been a little frightened of the dog when she was younger, took it upon herself to nurse the dog back to health, even having to force feed him in the early days. Now, the old dog had become like her best friend and she was glad to have something left of her father.

Bowman brought Helena back from her reminiscing by placing his big head on her hip and looking up at her with a phony sad look. She laughed and threw the old dog another piece.

“Helena you spoil that dog like a child,” her mother said, entering the kitchen. Her mother gave her a warm hug and kissed the top of her head. “You’re up early today.”

Helena served her mother a bowl of the stew then, retrieved a bowl for herself, sneaking another piece of fat for Bowman and joined her mother at the table.

“Uncle is having guest over for lunch today.” Helena handed the meat to the dog under the table and happily took and headed off for the other room. “I need to be there early for the preparations.”

“You know you should really call him governor general,” her mother said between sips.

“He hates being called that,” Helena said, taking a bite of her own. “He says only the emperor has the power to appoint such titles.”

Her mother frowned. “Still, when you’re in the presence of other people you should remember to use his official title out of respect.”

“Yes, mama,” she said.

The two ate in silence for the remainder of breakfast and when they had finished Helena cleaned up before dressing for the day. Every day before leaving for her for her uncle’s home she would sit in her father’s old chair and pet Bowman. She would whisper in his ear, telling him secrets and asking him to keep her mother safe. This morning the tradition was cut short by her mother’s appearance.

“How is doing?” she asked. Her mother nervously rubbed her hands together. “Your uncle I mean.”

Helena gave her one of those looks that every daughter knew upset their mother. “I don’t have to tell you he’s not doing well.”

“Helena, I’m just worried about you.”

“Oh, I know how worried you are about me,” Helena said.

Her mother was visibly angry and even took a step forward as if to grab her daughter, but as always she refused to yell. “It was incredibly noble of you to care for your uncle this long, but even he would want you to start thinking about your future.”

“You already married off one daughter,” Helena stood up, “what is your rush to marry off another one.”

“Because you’re getting older Helena,” her voice raised a bit. “It won’t be as easy.”

Helena, having heard enough, made her way to the door. “Well, I wouldn’t get my hopes up, mother.” She opened the door but lingered for a moment. “Uncle has sent his best men to find something that will save his life, and they should be returning very soon.”

Helena didn’t look back to see her mother’s reaction but rushed out the door to her uncle’s house. The day outside was warm as usual and the people were going about their daily routine as usual. Helena took this to mean that her uncle had woken from his sleep as usual or his attendants would have already sent word and the village would have been sent into a frenzy. This improved her spirits a little, another day when she could forget her future.

Being related to the governor general afforded her family a home closer to the village square, where her uncle’s home stood across from the church. In the center of the square stood a large water clock where the town’s most important workers kept the village from falling into chaos. This was how her uncle put it and Helena always liked to study it while she passed by.

“You’re late.” Is the way her uncle greeted her when she arrived at his bedside.

“I’m sorry uncle.” She brought him his robe and helped him get out of bed. “A stubborn animal wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Ah yes, your father’s prized war dog,” he grunted as he stood up as straight as his old bones would allow him, “and how is your mother.”

Helena smiled. “She’s as hard working as always.”

“Good.” The old man started toward the door with Helena supporting him. “Now, let us get to work ourselves and get this ridiculous meal over with.”