Isabella's Heiress

by N. P. Griffiths

  He paced up and down the floor trying to foresee what would happen in the next few hours. The plane was an unpredictable place but he had enough experience here that he had pretty much seen everything there was to see. Right now though all his experience came to nought in the face of what was going on only a mile away. He would have given anything to be able to go in himself but his presence would have been felt the moment he got inside and he knew that this would be a provocation too far from the point of view of both sides.

  Father Eamon looked up at the roof. He knew that he would have to go to Newgate soon. This was the last place he wanted to be but he would only have to wait for a few more minutes before he could leave.

  It was late afternoon and the hall was empty but he knew that it would soon fill up and he wanted to be away before that happened. There were plenty of people hidden around the gaol, Father Henry had seen to that, but he wanted to be there. Emma was his initiate and he felt that by staying back he was betraying her in some way. He knew that this was wrong but all the same, he wanted to be away.

  His mind wandered through his time with Emma. Could it really be nearly a year since he first met her? It didn’t seem that long but then time had long since ceased having any meaning to him.

  He was thinking about how he would get Emma away from the gaol if she got out when the door opened in the far wall. He looked over and returned a warm smile.

  The sweat was a constant irritant but Emma had given up trying to clear it from her eyes. Her mind was set on getting in an out as quickly as possible but the further she got in the less chance she had of remembering the way back. As she looked around at the cavernous halls, topped with archways that peaked hundreds of feet over her head, she was grateful for the rock in her right hand. She had picked it up and had been using it to mark every third corner or column she had passed, indicating the way back.

  Romulus and Remus had given her directions into the bowels of the prison, was this prison? Emma couldn’t be sure; it seemed to her that the whole of the twilight plane could have come under that description but for now she was content to think of this place as such. The more they had spoken, the more she had realised that she would need a way to find her way back out. She had hunted around for something that might help her do that until she saw the broken rocks.

  Emma had started to lose faith after a while but then she had heard the low whine on the air. At first she thought it was just the whistle of the wind but as she had followed the directions she had been given it had got louder until it had become clear that it was a voice.

  Emma had started to hug the walls even more tightly after this and her mood wasn’t made any better when she realised that the voice was the same one that had tormented her when she had been up top. Down here it was even more cutting as its raucous tones bounced off every wall and column.

  Hallways gave way to each other with increasing frequency. Each one was larger than the last with archways and pillars reaching off into ever higher circles. And all the time there was the voice slowly becoming clearer the further in she got until, eventually, she could make out what it was saying.

  “SINNERS! BLASPHEMERS! YOUR PAIN WILL NEVER END! FLESH WILL BE CLEAVED FROM BONE AS WE TEAR YOUR SOULS ASUNDER!”

  Emma flinched with every screamed threat and started to falter as she found it harder and harder to keep herself hidden. The only saving grace was that the voice hid her own noise and the monks had a nasty habit of heavy breathing so she could hear them before she ended up walking into them

  Oh, God, what am I doing here? I’m never going to find her.

  Emma was now starting to panic. As she got deeper, she started to pass passages cut into the wall, which exuded lows moans. Her suspicions to there cause but were confirmed when two monks dragged out a tearful woman just as she turned a corner. She followed them as they took her through an annex archway and strapped her to a rack. As the final rope was fastened, it instantly went taught and the woman was elevated three foot off the ground. Emma didn’t wait to see what would happen next, the woman’s screams that followed her out left her in no doubt how that was going to go.

  “YOU SHALL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE. THIS TEMPLE TO YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS! EMBRACE YOUR PAIN AND YOUR PENURY!”

  Emma tried to put the voice to the back of her mind but its molten scream burnt her ears with every bellowed syllable. She tried everything from concentrating on the uneven stonework in the walls to trying to regulate her breathing but it felt like she would drown in the unceasing flow of hate coming from around her.

  It was now about two hours since she had climbed through the grate and for all their talk, the two heads couldn’t begin to describe the wave of human misery that Emma had waded through as she got to this level. Huge protruding platforms held men and women, stripped naked and hanging from large stone posts by rusty brass chains. Giant wheels gently rotated through vast pools of water, slowly immersing then extricating first one person then another. Emma had hidden behind a wall near one of these as a group of monks had moved past. She had been there for what seemed an age and in all that time, the wheel had barely moved. Only one person had come out from the pool and looking at him, coughing and vomiting up fetid, black water, Emma could only guess how long he had been under.

  At first she had worried that one of these people would see her and give her away but it had soon become apparent that they were in no condition to raise their heads let alone notice what was going on around them.

  As Emma headed further in, she had to navigate massive stone staircases. These were the worst times for her because she was constantly exposed and she had to choose her moments when she used them carefully, hoping that luck was on her side and that she would be able to find cover before anyone came her way. Up to now she had been lucky as the halls and stairways had been sparsely populated but the further in she got, the more people she was starting to see. For all the staircases she had climbed, it was obvious now that she was heading further and further down. The walls were hot to the touch and waves of heat were rolling over Emma like breakers on the shore. The sweat had gone from a trickle to a torrent in the space of the last five minutes and try as she might it was becoming impossible to function.

  “THIS IS YOUR PRESENT AND YOUR FUTURE! YOUR SOULS WILL BE PURGED AND YOUR FLESH CORRUPTED!”

  The stairway Emma was on led down to a tall stone archway. She peered round the corner and instantly dropped back into darkness of the stairs, grateful to have something between her and the voice. She wiped the sleeve of her blouse across her face, whilst trying to blink out the sweat. Sticking her head out of the archway had been like placing it in a furnace. Her eyes had closed almost instantly and now they were streaming scalding tears. She took a deep breath, knowing that it would sear her insides and steadied herself for another look. Her skin was beginning to represent that of the people she had seen being slowly tortured further back. The sweat had started to form black tidemarks across her arms and white salt stains on her clothes but she looked around the corner again, this time squinting in an effort to negate the heat. She could see that she was at the top of a massive hall, looking down on walkways, drawbridges and spiral staircases hewn out of huge stone blocks. Emma knew from the instructions she had been given that she was close. The stone columns that supported the roof ran from the floor up for the better part of five hundred feet before disappearing into the blackness.

  As Emma slowly forced herself to acclimatise, she managed to force her eyes open for short periods of time. She could see that the walkways and drawbridges were suspended by blocks and tackle and that there appeared, at first, to be a watchtower about two thirds of the way up one of the massive support columns and at eye level with her hiding place. Her heart sunk until she realised that bars covered the windows and that it was, in fact, another cell.

  “ENJOY EVERY MOMENT! SAVIOUR EVERY SECOND! FOR THIS IS JUST THE START OF A LONG JOURNEY. SOON YOU WILL PASS FROM HERE AND DISCOVER THE TRUE MEANING OF PAIN!”

>   The voice finished with a high pitched laugh which Emma had learned to hate but it had the effect of urging her forward as she carried on with her search. She knew from what Remus had said that she was nearing the centre of this place and that meant more monks. She had been fortunate up to now but knew that her luck wouldn’t last. Another look told her that the only way down was by a stairwell at the far end of the walkway that ran in front of the arch Emma was using to hide herself.

  Blinking away more sweat, Emma weighed up her odds. She couldn’t see anybody at this level but knew that running may get the attention of anybody that happened to be looking up when she moved. Still, staying here wasn’t going to do any good so she resolved to head towards the next archway.

  Emma headed onto the walkway with only a flimsy metal railing to stop her falling hundreds of feet to the floor below. She kept as close to the wall as possible, whilst all the time being careful not to touch it as everything from the air to the walls were now blisteringly hot and she knew that one touch from any of the surrounding stonework would cause her to scream in pain.

  When she reached the archway, the brief respite of the shade given off by the stairs was a welcome relief and Emma found herself finding reasons not to carry on. Slowly, she worked her way down the spiral staircase until the heat started to rise and she realised that the bottom couldn’t be far away. Her clothes were sopping wet and Emma felt a constant stickiness, which caused her blouse and the front of her jeans to cling to her. As she wiped the sweat from her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that hour, Emma missed her footing on the step in front of her and slipped down the next six, catching her arm on the outer wall as she went. The pain as it jarred against the brickwork caused her to let out a small yell.

  Emma sat on the steps and got her wind back before picking herself up and carrying on. She turned a corner and found herself at the bottom of the staircase. In front of her was the exit to the hall. Emma did her best to creep forward but as she looked round the final corner, she came face to face with a black monk.

  He was less than six feet away, just beyond the stairwell and looking straight at her, but he seemed to be more interested in sniffing the air.

  Father Eamon was halfway up King William Street before he slowed his pace. Sister Ignacia was keeping up but only just. There had been a glow to her cheeks when she had walked through the door and some of the sparkle had returned to her eyes, although Father Eamon could tell they were still clouded.

  Now, as they headed towards Newgate, he said a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that Sister Ignacia was back.

  At Mansion House, a wave of noise washed over them as they exited into a junction where seven roads converged into a seething cauldron of omnibuses. Horses pulled frantically at their bridles as they competed for space on the cobbled roadways with barrow boys and flower sellers.

  They navigated their way along the twisting cobbled roads, doing their best to avoid oncoming hooves as well as the attention of the realms residents as they desperately tried to waylay the two guides in a vain attempt to get them to intervene on their behalf. Usually a stern look was enough to dissuade them but it was never something that Father Eamon enjoyed doing.

  They crossed into Poultry and headed north west towards Cheapside as smoke and steam, pouring from vents in the pavement and road, filled the air and clogged up the lungs of all those within twenty feet. Soot drifted on the breeze, settling on anything it touched and before long both Father Eamon and Sister Ignacia’s faces were grimy, giving Sister Ignacia the look of a street urchin. Even her clothes, normally awash with colour were now dour and grey.

  “I cannot believe that Emma was allowed to proceed down this road. Are you mad?”

  “I could not have stopped her. What could I have done? Physically restrained her? Locked her in her room? How would that have helped? No, my hands were tied on this one.”

  Sister Ignacia looked at him and grumbled, clearly not convinced.

  A low mist hung on Cheapside as they headed towards Newgate, the ornate gas lamps that were dotted along the pavement barely making a dent in it. Horses slid on the broken cobbles as they struggled to cope with the quagmire that the road had descended into whilst people, ragged and emaciated, headed to shelter as the night closed in.

  Father Eamon looked up and gave a half-satisfied smile. “’Tis getting dark. That will clear the streets.”

  Sister Ignacia gave him an uncertain look, “How is that going to help?”

  “When Emma gets out, she will not be alone of that I am sure. They will not let her go without a fight, so we should be prepared also. For that it is best if no one gets in the way.”

  Father Eamon tried not to let his voice betray his feelings at the way that things were going. The doubts in his mind had been increasing the closer they got to Newgate Street. He had tried to banish them but they only got stronger as the stakes rose with every passing minute. What if he was wrong? What if she was captured? Had been captured? Father Eamon forced that prospect to the back of his mind.

  It soon became impossible to work out where the pavement finished and the road started. The mist was starting to turn into fog and Sister Ignacia drew her cloak around her in an effort to stop the chill working its way to her skin.

  “I hate this place.”

  “Be grateful you don’t have to stay here.”

  Sister Ignacia shivered as the damp settled on her cloak. They arrived at the junction of Cheapside and Newgate just as the fog started to lift, revealing the silhouette of the dome of St Pauls. They went to cross Aldersgate Street when the shape of a man broke through the gloom. It was Father Henry. As he got closer, the lines across his brow framed a distracted look.

  “Father Henry, how go the preparations?”

  “Not good. We have a problem.”

  Emma was frozen to the spot, her eyes fixed on the monk who was now less than three feet away from her. It was moving slowly towards the archway that framed the steps on which she was now crouching. It wasn’t rushing forward but instead was stopping every few steps and sniffing the air. Emma knew it would pick up on any noise so she forced herself not to move.

  It closed in on her position, pulling down its hood to reveal a bald and wrinkled head that it tilted left and right. It continued to sniff the air before pausing only to listen out for any noise that may betray Emma.

  Emma was forced to hold her breath as it felt its way along the wall until it found the archways edge and stopped. It hesitantly raised a foot; feeling for the first step and Emma felt her heart start to pound. What was she going to do? Should she race back up the stairs or rush the monk? She now realised that any movement on her part would be picked up straight away so she settled for staying where she was but by now her legs were starting to burn and a furnace was being stoked in her lungs where she was holding in the superheated air.

  “DEATH IS JUST THE START! THERE ARE SO MANY LEVELS OF PAIN THAT YOU HAVE YET TO EXPERIENCE.”

  The voice started up again as the monk placed its hands on the inner walls. Emma watched as it ran its fingers over the rough brickwork in an attempt to see if anything was there. It placed its left hand on a brick, which crumbled at the monks touch. The monk fell forward just as Emma had found herself crouched almost directly in front of it. She fell back against the steps, letting out the air in her lungs as she hit the stone. It was all she could do not to make a noise but the monk froze as its hands scrabbled for purchase in an effort to stop it heading face first on to the stairs. It succeeded but for Emma that was scant consolation as she ended up face to face with it. The fall now meant that the monk was only inches from Emma’s nose. She held her breath as it started sniffing again. Its robes gave off a smell of rotten eggs whilst the sweat that was building up in its forehead started to drop directly onto Emma’s face. It was all she could do not to gag as one drop splashed onto her lips.

  The monk stopped sniffing and canted its head to one side as it strained to listen for anything unt
oward. It held its breath and waited to see if anything moved or breathed until, after what seemed like an age, it gave up. Placing its hands on the step below the one that Emma was now prone on, it picked itself up and slowly headed back in to the hall. When it had disappeared around the corner, Emma placed her hands over her mouth and forced the air from her body. For the next few seconds, the only thing that mattered was breathing.

  After she had caught her breath, Emma crept to the archway and looked out. Once again the hall was broken up by stone pillars that disappeared overhead. From here, Emma could see that the walkways she had seen from above threw shadows across the floor which would allow her to move around the outside of the hall and, if she was lucky, make it to the other side unnoticed.

  “CAN YOU FEEL IT? CAN YOU FEEL ALL HOPE LEAVING YOU? THERE IS NO HOPE, JUST PAIN!”

  The heat hit her again and she felt her eyes start to tear up. There was no one in the hall other than Emma but for the first time, she could hear voices. They came from her feat. She looked down to see a semicircular metal grille; similar to the one she had entered by.

  A hand grabbed her ankle and Emma jumped backwards in shock. It was accompanied by a low, indistinct voice. At first she wasn’t sure she heard it at all but there it was again and this time, there was no mistaking it.

  Emma dropped down to one knee to find herself face to face with a woman not much older than her. For a heart stopping second, she thought she had found Taryn but she soon realised that it was somebody completely different.