“We don’t have much time,” Sitnalta told her. “I guess it’s a good thing I chopped off all of my hair. Now, I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to hide it all under the bonnet.” She gave Aud a wry smile. “Oh well, time to dress, I suppose.”
Within three minutes, with Aud’s help, Sitnalta had changed her clothes and hidden herself under the tray behind the tablecloth. Aud, her heart beating madly within her breast, knocked on the door to alert the guards that she was prepared to leave. Immediately after the first knock, the door was pulled open to let her out. Aud walked into the hallway and faced the guardsmen.
“She didn’t eat,” they said, regarding the plates of food.
“Well, she declared she was—tired. She went to sleep—very upset—doesn’t want to see anyone now.” Aud hoped they could not see how nervous she was.
The guards looked at her through narrow lids. “Really?” they asked. The one on the left pushed the door to the Princess’s room open and peered inside. He scanned the room, seeing in the bed a sleeping figure with a mess of blue hair spreading out over the covers. He nodded to himself, satisfied all was well.
Aud smiled to herself. They just might get away with this! She gestured to the plates on the tray. “I would just hate to see all this go to waste,” she told them. “You boys must be starving, standing here so long. It must be hard work guarding the Princess. Why don’t you take this food? It will just be between you and me. Promise.”
The two guards thought it over for a mere second before they each grabbed a plate from Aud’s tray. They hastily mumbled a thank you before digging in. Aud chuckled under her breath, as she wheeled the tray and the Princess down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
King Gerald was walking down a long, winding flight of stairs into the bowels of the castle. Walking beside him were two of his soldiers. They knew of his plan, and they were behind him full force.
Lower and lower, they descended, to where daylight never shone. The air was dank and clammy. The only light came from a few flickering torches hung in rusting brackets on the wall. All three men were chilled to the very marrow of their bones. Their flesh was covered in an outbreak of goose pimples. The hair on their arms stood at attention, swaying in the frigid air. King Gerald pressed on, climbing even lower into the depths of the castle. He walked purposefully towards Supmylo’s dungeons.
Up ahead lay a door guarded by two men looking pale and bone weary. At the sound of Gerald’s footsteps, they looked up expectantly. Their reception pleased Gerald. It looked, to him, as if things would work out after all. He stepped up to the dungeon guards, authority stamped across his features. His men came up behind him, taking position on either side.
“My men are here to relieve you,” Gerald said to the guards.
Supmylo’s men regarded Gerald’s skeptically. Their faces clearly showed a deep mistrust.
“I ask you to step aside,” Gerald said in a no-nonsense voice. His men took a couple of steps forward.
One of Supmylo’s guards cleared his throat. He was pale and looked exhausted. He looked Gerald over, and peered at his men.
“We weren’t told of this,” he said to Gerald.
“You do not want relief?” Gerald asked him, a challenging glint in his eye.
“No, it’s not that,” the other guard broke in. “It’s just that, well, we’re always the last to know everything.” A slight whine had crept into his voice.
“Well, take your break now. Hand over your keys and be off with you.” King Gerald smiled warmly at the guards and held out his hand. He would not take no for an answer, and he could tell that Supmylo’s men would give in to him. Or so he hoped.
The first guard began to unhook the heavy ring from his belt then paused. He looked at King Gerald. “Why did you come down too? Couldn’t your men handle a shift change on their own?” he asked.
King Gerald waved the question aside. “You had never seen my men before now. I had to vouch for them. Otherwise, how could you just relieve your post for a couple of total strangers?”
Both of Supmylo’s guards shook their heads at the absurdity of such a notion.
“You see my point,” King Gerald said.
The first guard handed over his keys to one of Gerald’s men. He and his partner walked off to get their much-needed rest.
When they had gone, Gerald sprang into action. Taking the keys, he unlocked the main door to the dungeons and slipped inside, closing it behind him. The lights along the corridor before him went from a dim to dismal darkness. Gerald crept from cell to cell, peering into the murk, trying to discern if a troll lay within. All around were moans and whispered prayers for mercy and freedom. Now and again, the occasional tortured sob could be heard. Gerald’s heart went out for these poor souls. He did not know who amongst them were actual felons, or just people who had come upon the wrong side of King Supmylo. He did not care. In his mind, no one deserved such treatment.
As he walked slowly down the seemingly endless corridor, Gerald’s eyes began to burn from the strain of trying to see what was in front of him. He could barely make out his own hands as he held them forward, trying to feel his way through the dungeons. His nostrils were assailed with the putrid stench of unwashed bodies and urine. His skin itched as if insects were crawling all over him. He had only been there a few minutes. Some of the people held in these cells had been there for years.
“Najort!” he called out as loud as he dared. “Najort! Where are you?”
Gerald thought he detected a rustling to his right. It could have been a rat, but it could just as easily have been a troll. He turned to the cell beside him and approached the door.
“Najort?” he asked. “Are you called Najort?”
“Who are you?” came a small, scared voice from within.
In the darkness, Gerald could barely make out two gleaming, frightened eyes.
“I am a friend,” Gerald answered.
“Of whom?”
“Of the Princess,” Gerald replied. He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible. He could feel the tension in the cell start to ease. “She sent me to you. She told me how you helped her during her time in the woods. That you are a dear friend to her.”
“If in fact you are a friend of the Princess, I am Najort. Is she all right? That monster hasn’t hurt her, has he?” Najort came up to the bars of his cell door and gazed earnestly at Gerald. The King was shocked to see how small the troll actually was.
“She is unharmed,” Gerald assured the troll. “She is worried about you. I have come to get you out of here.”
“I have been pardoned?” Confusion clouded Najort’s features.
“Why would you need to be?” asked Gerald. “Have you done anything wrong?” He could see why Sitnalta had declared the troll to be a “kind soul.”
“No, I don’t think I have.” Najort still did not understand what was going on.
“Well,” Gerald said. “Let us just say that a mistake has been made, and I intend to rectify it.” With this statement, Gerald placed the key into the lock and pulled the door open. He stepped aside, letting Najort pass.
“You mean to execute a jail break.” Najort gazed at Gerald bewildered, as if such a thought would never occur to him.
“Truthfully, I do.”
Najort stopped short and refused to budge. Gerald stared at him, and he could feel himself losing patience. He took the troll by the arm.
“If you stay here, you will die.” Gerald pulled at Najort. “We don’t have much time.” He gestured to the door. “We have to go.”
The other prisoners, realizing what was going on, began crying for their release as well. The noise became louder, and Gerald began to get antsy.
“What about Sitnalta?” Najort asked.
Gerald gazed at Najort and tightened his grip on the troll’s arm. The shrieks of the inmates were sending shivers up his spine. He wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. He began dancing on the balls
of his feet, preparing to bolt for the door.
“What about Sitnalta?” Najort asked again. “We aren’t going to leave her here. Not in the grip of her father? Not with Supmylo?”
“Of course not!” Gerald snapped. “I’m sorry for losing my patience,” he said, as he saw the troll wince at the harshness of his voice.
“I understand.”
The pleas around them were reaching a feverish pitch.
“Aud is getting her out. We are meeting them by the orchard,” Gerald explained. “But we have to go now!” He pulled on Najort’s arm once more, and they ran for the door. Gerald shouted for his men to pull it open to allow their escape, and the door was thrown open. They plunged through. Away from the noise, the smell, and the darkness.
Gerald pulled his cloak from his shoulders and threw it over Najort. He then took a helmet from one of his men and handed it to the troll, who placed it on his head. Najort drew the cloak tight around his shoulders, took a sword, and placed it in his belt.
“Act confident,” Gerald told him. “Shoulders back and stride. Hopefully no one will look twice. I don’t think we need to worry about that, since you will be with me.” Najort was quaking inside. Act confident? He had nothing to be confident about. He swallowed hard and took off after King Gerald.
He repeated the instructions in his head: “Shoulders back and stride, shoulders back and stride.” He prayed Gerald was right, that no one would look twice. He did not know to do if they did.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
From behind her bonnet, Sitnalta glanced at the people walking past. She felt like a horse wearing blinders. So far, no one had paid any attention to her. She was eternally grateful for this. Everyone she had passed so far seemed as jumpy as a jackrabbit. She did not know if this was because she was so nervous, or because of the execution that was scheduled for later in the evening. She did not remember everyone being so on edge when she had been growing up.
Sitnalta reached out to the side with her hand, and was rewarded with a reassuring squeeze from Aud. She immediately felt herself calm down. Aud’s presence alongside her went a long way in soothing her frayed nerves. Together, they exited the castle and walked out onto the grounds without incident. They set out for the orchard, walking as if they were just going for a leisurely stroll. No one paid them any attention.
At the first row of apple trees, Sitnalta looked around. Her beloved trees grew in their rows silently standing, casting their shadows upon her. It hit her then that this would probably be the last time she would ever lay eyes on them. She placed her hand on the trunk of the closest tree and looked up into its branches. The green leaves above her were studded with their rich red fruit. Sitnalta felt a powerful longing to climb amongst the branches and pick one. Aud stood back and watched the Princess silently, knowing it was probably best to leave her alone.
A crowd was growing across from the orchard. Aud turned away from Sitnalta, and watched with interest as a respectful murmur of conversation began to fill the air. Aud’s eyes narrowed as she saw what they had come to see. They had congregated at the base of a makeshift scaffold upon which sat a crude chopping block, with a fruit basket sitting at its base. The execution would be held there in a few minutes. Aud was unsure whether these people had come out of respect for the captain, or out of a need to satisfy their own blood lust. Either way, the prospect of watching someone die left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Out of the shadows of the castle, two figures emerged. One was tall and thin. He walked with a purpose as if he was sure of himself. The other was shorter and squat. He kept twitching at every sound as if he was frightened for his very life. They approached the orchard and joined the two women.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Aud turned away from the scaffold and set her eyes upon King Gerald and Najort. Najort walked over to Aud and Sitnalta, looking nervously at his surroundings. The crowd that gathered at the execution site filled him with fear. He half expected them to look his way shouting, “troll!” and did not know what he would do should that occur. Sitnalta, at the sound of their footsteps, turned away from her tree. It took her a moment to recognize Najort in the helmet and cloak, but once she did, she ran to him and caught him in a crushing embrace. Aud turned to Gerald, and after a moment’s hesitation, greeted him in much the same manner. After a moment, both pairs separated. Aud was blushing furiously.
“Well,” Gerald said after clearing his throat. “I should execute jail breaks more often.”
“You,” Aud scolded him. “I was worried. I did not expect to come out of the castle so much earlier than you.” She then turned to the troll. “You must be Najort.”
“I am,” Najort replied quietly.
“I’m Aud. Sitnalta has told me a lot about you. I want to thank you for caring for her while she lived in the forest. The Princess means a lot to me. You’ll always have a place in my heart because of all you did for her.”
Najort turned a deep shade of red. “I only did what anyone would have done.”
Sitnalta stood watching Aud and Najort as they spoke with each other. She began picking at the bonnet on her head. Aud noticed and pulled her hand away.
“Do not take this off yet,” she told the Princess.
“But it itches!” Sitnalta complained.
“Aud is right,” Najort told her. “If anyone sees your hair, we’re done for.”
Aud gave Najort a look of thanks.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Gerald said. “But how do we intend for Sitnalta and Najort to leave the castle grounds? We can’t just waltz on out past the guards.”
Sitnalta smiled at the king. “Najort and I will leave the same way I did the last time. We’ll climb over the wall surrounding the orchard.”
Najort stared at Sitnalta, as if she had just grown a second head. “You mean to tell me that I have to scale a wall? Are you mad?”
Sitnalta giggled. “No. We will not scale the wall. We will climb up the tree that grows alongside it.”
Najort grimaced. “I’m sorry, Sitnalta, but trolls are not exactly suited to climbing trees.”
Sitnalta gazed at Najort with infinite patience in her eyes. “Try. I promise you that it’s easier than it looks. This tree is perfectly suited to climbing.”
“Okay.” Najort sighed, and hung his head, resigned to the fact that he was about to climb a tree.
They stood in the shadows watching and waiting for the sun to set. Likewise, the crowd by the scaffold stood—waiting and watching. A sense of purpose hung in the air. A nervous tension filled everybody that stood on the grounds. As the sky became stained with pink, a man clad all in black began to approach the steps leading up to the platform above the crowd. In his hand, he held a gleaming axe. The blade shone with a wicked pink light reflecting the colours of the sky. Sitnalta watched as his long strides carried him swiftly up the wooden steps. She swallowed heavily.
Following the executioner was the condemned captain of the guards. Ipsinki could barely walk. Every step he took, his knees buckled under him, and one of the men guarding him had to pick him up off the ground. Sitnalta felt tears in her eyes as her heart went out to him. She saw his hands were bound. They shook so hard it was visible even where she was standing. She wanted to run to him, to cry out, to stop this madness, but she remained silent—watching.
Ipsinki slowly made his way up the steps. Below, he could hear the crowd murmuring softly. He thought he could make out his name being said several times over. He felt a hand at his elbow guiding him over to the chopping block. The sun dipped lower on the horizon. Ipsinki slowly swallowed. He would not cry. He would not beg for mercy. He knelt down in front of the block and looked out over the crowd. He saw all of his former men. His friends stood watching. He gave them a small smile. He saw Supmylo sitting with a smirk on his face, surrounded by guards. He saw a small group of people out by the orchard. He paused and stared at them. He recognized the figures of Aud and King Gerald, but the other two were unfamiliar
to him. Or were they? The shorter one he knew he did not know, but the tall thin girl—the Princess! Ipsinki realized she was escaping again. If he cried out now, if he alerted the soldiers around him, it just might save his life. He stared at the girl, and saw her turn and directly face him.
Sitnalta and Ipsinki locked eyes. With fear in her heart, Sitnalta knew the captain realized exactly who she was and what she was doing. She stood and waited for him to call out, to expose her. But the call never came. Ipsinki nodded and put his head down on the block, closed his eyes and waited for the axe to come down. Sitnalta stood rooted to her place, her mind whirling. She felt Aud grab her by the arm, trying to lead her into the trees.
“We must go,” Aud whispered. “The time is now!”
Sitnalta nodded in agreement and made to follow. At the last second, she turned and saw the executioner heft his axe high into the air. She took a deep breath, ripped the bonnet from her head showing her hair to all, and strode forward.
“Stop!” Sitnalta cried out in her loudest, most commanding voice. “Your Princess commands you to stop!”
The executioner turned in shock to stare at the young girl who dared command him not to do his job. Ipsinki lifted his head and stared at Sitnalta, a mixture of relief and fear in his eyes. Supmylo turned in his chair and stared at his daughter, naked fury written on every feature. Sitnalta turned to him and stared at her father defiantly. She then turned and ran for the trees joining Aud once again.
“That was a stupid thing you just did,” Aud said to her as they ran to catch up with Najort and Gerald.
“I know,” Sitnalta responded.
“I’m proud of you,” Aud said.
Sitnalta turned and gave Aud her widest grin.
At the scaffold, pandemonium reigned. The executioner stared dumbly at the trees. The crowd was noisily debating what had just occurred, and Supmylo was frantically trying to get his men together. Ipsinki was just kneeling there, staring blankly. Finally, Supmylo managed to organize a small force, and was heading towards the orchard after the Princess. The executioner was among them. He did not seem thrilled to have been denied the opportunity to lop off Ipsinki’s head, but he didn’t think it wise to argue with the King.
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