Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Christine Pope

  That night, I laid myself down on the pallet as calmly as I could, but my heart was racing within. The next day would be my third one here. By the time the sun set on that day, I would have to produce gold for the king…or I would have to send word to Lord Edmar that I was willing to do as he asked, in exchange for having the king pardon me for my supposed crimes.

  It was not, I feared, much of a choice. And perhaps I did not even have that choice. I had only my father’s word to go on when it came to the duke’s intentions, and he had already proved himself less than trustworthy. Perhaps I had misread Lord Edmar’s intent in sending me the furs and the gowns. Perhaps even the horrible hope that he might spare my life if I would become his mistress was entirely incorrect.

  They had, by that point, realized that having two guards watching over me was foolish. No, there was only one in his usual position by the foot of the stairs. I knew that half the time the man given night watch duty did not stay awake for all of it. What was the point? I certainly did not possess the means to escape, and neither would there be anyone likely to come in and attempt to rescue me. I could only wait and worry as my doom approached.

  The shadow of sleep was just beginning to steal over me when I heard a voice in the darkness.

  “Annora.”

  It was a man’s voice, deep and soft, no one I recognized. I sat bolt upright on my pallet, clutching the furs to me, although I slept fully clothed. At first I thought that perhaps it was the guard, but I had heard him speak, and he had a pleasant tenor with a slight country burr to it.

  “Who’s there?” I whispered.

  “Someone who wishes to help you.”

  My eyes strained against the darkness, attempting to see who had spoken. It was not absolutely black, as a torch flickered halfway up the stairwell. And as I stared, I was able to see the outlines of a tall dark figure, shrouded in a hooded cloak, standing in the far corner of my cell.

  I let out a shocked gasp and pushed the furs away from me, then scrambled out of bed. My thought was to go to the front of my cell and call for the guard, but the hooded figure was too fast for me. Even as I began to move, he was there next to me, a gloved hand covering my mouth as I parted my lips to scream.

  “There, now,” the stranger said, his voice pitched low. “Did I not tell you that I wished to help you?”

  His cloak concealed his form, but I was now pressed up against him, and I could tell he was strong and tall, certainly no one I could possibly overcome in a physical confrontation. My tone a furious whisper against his leather-clad fingers, I asked, “Help me how? By invading my cell in the middle of the night?”

  “That seemed wisest. I would not wish to be seen by your guard — although I admit he is not much of an adversary at the moment, as he is leaning up against the wall and snoring to wake the dead.”

  There was an undercurrent of amusement in the stranger’s voice, and, despite myself, I relaxed slightly. If he had come here to assault me, surely he would not have announced his presence by calling out my name.

  The strange man seemed to note the shift in my posture, for in the next instant he let go of me and stepped away. Not very far, just a foot or so, but enough that it seemed to indicate he trusted me not to cry out for help. Then again, if the guard was really snoring as badly as all that, there was a good chance he might not hear me, even if I called out for him.

  “Who are you?” I asked the stranger.

  “My name is not important.”

  “And you don’t think it rude that you have my name, and yet you are unwilling to give me yours? How do you expect me to trust you if you will not give me that smallest of courtesies?”

  He chuckled then. It was a warm, rich sound, and something about it made a little shiver go down my back. Or perhaps it was simply that I had just realized I stood on the cold stone floor in only my stocking feet.

  “If it is so important to you, then you may call me Rumple.”

  “‘Rumple’?” I repeated, certain he was teasing me. “That is not a proper name.”

  “Perhaps not, but it is the one I am giving you now. It will have to be enough.”

  I decided it was best to let the matter go. “Very well. I suppose I should not be arguing with someone who says he wishes to help me. But how can you? Do you have some way of getting me out of this cell?” For I reflected that he had obviously gotten in, and so possessed some knowledge that I most certainly did not.

  “Not precisely. For there is no need of escape, if you can do as the king has asked of you.”

  So he was helpful…and mad. “That is impossible.”

  “Not with the right assistance. Please, Annora, take your seat at the spinning wheel.”

  More protests bubbled to my lips, but I had already told myself that I should not argue with him anymore, at least not until I had determined what he expected of me. At least he had made no assault on my person, save that hand over my mouth to keep me from alerting the guards to his presence.

  So I made my way across the icy floor and sat down on the chair. “What now?”

  “Pick up a piece of straw.”

  Sighing, I bent down and grasped the longest piece I could find, even though I knew its length mattered not at all. It could be long enough to stretch from here all the way back to my house, and it still would not make any difference. Straw was straw, and even if I could somehow manage to feed it through onto the bobbin, it would stubbornly remain straw, and nothing else.

  The stranger’s gaze was almost like a physical weight on my shoulders, even though I could not see his face. “Go on.”

  This time I did not bother to sigh. I only grasped the lead yarn with my left hand, and took the piece of straw in my right. A few presses of the treadle with my foot to get the wheel moving, and then I laid the straw on top of the yarn. It would hit the orifice and crumple, I knew, but I decided to humor the stranger.

  Only…it did not. The straw seemed to meld with the piece of lead yarn, stretching and softening in my hand, and the faint bit of torchlight which made its way to my cell suddenly found an answering gleam in the golden thread that began to wrap its way around the bobbin.

  My foot faltered on the treadle. “What in the world….”

  “Don’t stop,” the stranger said, satisfaction clear in his voice.

  What could I do but continue to pick up the bits of straw from where they lay, and watch as they somehow fused with the golden thread I had already spun? I worked and I worked, my shoulders beginning to grow tired as the night wore on and the pure metal filament grew thicker and thicker on the bobbin.

  At last there was no straw left on the floor, and instead a spool of heavy gold where yarn should have been. For the longest moment I could only sit there and stare at it, and wonder how such a thing could have ever come to pass.

  “Good,” said the stranger. For the briefest instant I felt the weight of his hand on my shoulder, and then he moved away. “I think you have earned your life this night.”

  I rose from the chair, feeling my muscles protest as I did so. It had been several years since I had last spun, and I had never spent so many hours at it as I had tonight. But all that seemed to melt away as I stared in awe at the man in the hooded cloak.

  “Who are you?”

  “As I said. Someone who wishes to help you.” He paused then, head tilting upward, as if at some sound only he could hear. “It is not quite dawn. Sleep, Annora, and know that the king will pardon you when the true morning comes.”

  And then he was gone, passing like a shadow in the night, even as I opened my mouth to thank him for his unlikely help. I blinked, certain my eyes must have deceived me, that he had merely slipped into a dark corner, but no — strain as I might, I could not see him anywhere. He had simply…disappeared.

  Magic, my mind whispered at me, and I shivered and shakily made my way over to the pallet. How I would ever be able to sleep after a night such as this, I did not know, but the stranger’s words did make some sense. I shoul
d try to get what rest I could, for most assuredly all would be clamor and commotion once it was discovered that I truly had managed to spin that straw into gold.

  But although I lay down and shut my eyes, I could not get my mind to grow quiet enough for slumber. I kept recalling the soft, heavy weight of that golden thread against my fingertips, the way it quietly gleamed on its prosaic wooden bobbin. Such a thing was impossible, and yet…there it was.

  Magic had once ruled this land, or at least that was what the storybooks said. Great mages wielded power to rival that of the gods, and had raised themselves to be above the common folk. But those sorcerers’ pride was their undoing, and the people rose against them and their tyranny. Now there was no trace of the mages, or the magic they had wielded. Every once in a great while, someone was accused of practicing the forbidden art. If they were found guilty, there was only one punishment the rulers here in Purth would mete out.

  Those unnatural beings were burned at the stake.

  And yet…magic.

  There could be no other explanation, either for the gold itself, or the way the stranger had disappeared from my prison cell. I had read that the great mages could perform those sorts of feats, disappearing from one place and appearing somewhere else with as much ease as someone walking from one room to another.

  There were not, of course, supposed to be any mages left. But I very much thought I had just encountered one. Why he had deigned to help me, at such great personal risk, I could not begin to guess. Surely the fate of one merchant’s daughter should not matter much to someone who had such powers at his command.

  But the ways of such men were said to have been inscrutable, and I doubted I would ever get any answers as to why this one man had used his skills to save my life. All I knew was that he had done so, and there, only a few feet away, was the answer to my unspoken prayers.

  Somehow, unlikely as it might seem, I did doze a bit, for some time later I heard the most unseemly clatter and sat bolt upright in my pallet, looking around in some confusion. As I blinked, I saw the guard who came on duty in the early morning standing outside my cell, the tray which had held my breakfast lying at his feet. Scattered around it were a tin cup that had contained some water, along with a few pieces of bread and cheese.

  “By the gods!” he exclaimed, staring at the thick bundle of gold thread that now rested on the bobbin. “Is that — ”

  “Yes,” I replied, then pushed back the furs and my one thin blanket, and got to my feet. “I am sorry that it took me this long, but — ”

  “N-no, I am sure it will be fine,” the guard said, his dark eyes round and astonished. “I must go — that is, I will send word of what you have done. Wait here.”

  What else would I do? I thought, amused by his discomfiture. But I supposed I should not be surprised that he should be so flabbergasted. To tell the truth, I still did not quite believe it myself, even though the evidence of the night’s work sat only a few feet away, looking like strands of morning sunlight as they wound around the bobbin.

  He left, and I did my best to straighten my gown and smooth my hair. Because I had not slept much, I was not overly rumpled.

  Rumple. What an odd name. But then, I thought it was probably not the stranger’s name at all, but a strange little nickname he had given me to avoid revealing who he truly was. Judging by the powers he wielded, I thought that bit of discretion only wise. Not that I would ever willingly give up his name — not after what he had done for me — but it was always better to be cautious.

  It seemed as if I waited for some time. Eventually, though, I heard the clamor of booted feet on the stone steps that led down into my dungeon, and in the next moment I saw why my wait had been so lengthy. For it was not merely the guard returning, but Lord Edmar as well, and the king himself. I wondered how disheveled I actually looked, and then realized it mattered not at all. For the king and the duke were staring, transfixed, at the gleaming golden thread I had spun, and seemed not to see me at all.

  The king stepped forward first, moving right up to the bars of my cell. “So it is true.”

  Perhaps I should have said nothing, but lack of sleep did have a tendency to hamper my discretion. “Of course it is. That is what you asked for, Your Majesty. Gold from straw.” And make of it what you will. It came to me then that the king might see this as magic, and my life would still be forfeit. Had I escaped one terrible death, only to suffer one even worse? In that moment, I could not think which fate might be the more horrible…to have one’s head struck off, or to be burned at the stake.

  But the king did not appear to be contemplating my execution. He smiled, and blinked, then looked over at me, even as Lord Edmar came up behind his left shoulder. “So it is, my dear. That is…most excellent.” The king flickered a glance at the duke, who did not appear particularly pleased. But then, of course he would not be pleased. I had succeeded, and so there was no reason for any “arrangement” to be made. Still smiling, the king went on, “It seems the merchant’s claims were true.”

  The duke nodded. “That is…most astonishing, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” I said crisply. “And now, since I have paid my father’s debt, I believe I should be released?”

  Again the two men exchanged a glance. Then the king nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Lord Edmar said in his smooth voice,

  “Of course you will be released from this cell, my lady, but we would ask that you stay on with us at the palace for a little while longer. As an honored guest, of course.”

  I lifted an eyebrow, not liking the sound of that at all. “I don’t understand. Why can I not be allowed to go home?”

  The king stepped in, saying, “Ah, well, I must have my treasurer take up the gold and assay it, and determine its worth. Then that worth must be measured against your father’s debt, and after that…we will see.” He smiled then, most unpleasantly, and my stomach began an uneasy churning.

  They clearly thought me only a simple girl, but I could guess their intentions. First one excuse, and then another, but it seemed obvious enough that they wished to keep me under their eye, where I could continue to spin more gold for them.

  The duke had called me an honored guest, but I knew then that they would keep me their prisoner.

  Chapter 5

  At least my new cell was more luxurious than the last. I was given a suite that occupied almost an entire floor of one tower. The apartment was so large, I was not sure what they intended me to do with all of it.

  Save one room, of course.

  What appeared to have been a small study had been cleared of its furnishings, except a low couch placed up against one window, and the spinning wheel and a high-backed chair were placed in the center of the room. Next to it was set a large burlap bag of straw. Clearly, the king intended my gold-spinning activities to continue apace. And what would he do when he discovered my little trick could not be repeated?

  Difficult to say. For all the king’s talk of treasurers and assay, I was confident that what I had spun the night before should be more than sufficient to discharge my father’s debt. No, I feared His Majesty’s only motivation was greed, pure and simple.

  At least I had bought myself a little time. The king, of course, could not lower himself to show me my new quarters, but the duke had accompanied me as I was removed from my prison cell and taken to the tower apartment that was to be mine.

  “I hope you will find it sufficient, my lady?”

  I didn’t bother to tell Lord Edmar that the suite was larger than the entire top floor of my father’s house, and far more grandly furnished…except for the spinning wheel, which looked as out of place there as I felt. Indeed, in my mind, it had begun to take on a rather ominous aspect, as it seemed to serve as a mute reminder of the king’s expectations. I saw no reason to mention that, however, for I did not think His Grace would appreciate the comment. “The apartments are quite sufficient, Your Grace.”

  He nodded, but then moved closer to me. I
couldn’t help stiffening, although I hoped he hadn’t noticed. “You have pleased the king, and so have pleased me as well.” One hand touched a loose curl that lay upon my shoulder, and I tried not to flinch. “Although I must confess I had rather hoped you would be pleasing me in other ways as well.”

  “So I heard,” I said tartly, and he moved back a fraction of an inch, brows drawing together. “I am sorry that you couldn’t carry out your arrangement with my father, but I am sure the king would prefer he had his gold, rather than you having me in your bed.”

  The grey eyes widened, and then the duke forced a smile. “You have a very blunt tongue, my lady.”

  “I see no reason to dance around the issue.” Indeed, I didn’t. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep — and the relief of knowing I had been granted a reprieve, if only a temporary one — but caution did seem to have deserted me for the moment.

  “Perhaps not.” He gestured toward the spinning wheel. “Then I think it best that I leave you to your work.”

  “In due time,” I replied. “I can only spin the straw into gold after the sun has gone down, and that is still some hours off.” Which of course was a complete prevarication. There would be no gold spun from straw at all this day, either before or after the sun had set. I could not expect the stranger to lend his assistance a second time. But at least by saying I could not do my spinning by daylight, I might earn a little breathing space.

  “I see. Well, I will leave you alone to refresh yourself.” A pause, and then he was taking my hand and raising it to his lips. They lingered against my skin far longer than the gesture usually required, but I made myself stand quietly and not shudder. For some reason, I thought he might enjoy that, but a lack of reaction could only serve to put him off.

  Which apparently it did, for he released my hand after that, his lips compressing slightly. “We will look in on you in the morning,” he said, then bowed and left.