Marysvale

by Jared Southwick

  His shoulders dropped. “No, I wouldn’t think so.”

  Sounding more optimistic than I really felt, I suggested, “Perhaps there is still a chance. If I can slip over the wall and sneak around the back side of the hill, a way may present itself.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, but he didn’t believe it. To tell the truth, neither did I.

  Hannah returned with the water. Seeing our downcast expressions she observed, “I missed something, didn’t I?”

  “No, not really,” said Jane.

  “Then why all the sad faces?”

  “Because we are still trying to figure a way out of here,” replied Jane.

  “And not just here,” I added. “First we have to get our horses out of the garrison.”

  “Why don’t we just leave the horses and go on foot?” suggested Hannah.

  “Absolutely not,” retorted Mr. Wolfe.

  “Why? We’ve done it before.”

  “Because that was then and this is now,” he barked. “We are not taking such a risk!”

  Jane and Hannah both looked taken aback. I was too, for that matter. Even though I agreed with him, his agitation still surprised me.

  “He’s right,” I confirmed. “I don’t think there is any way Lyman will just let us go—at least not me. If we’re discovered missing, they will most certainly give chase. On top of that, we still have to evade the Brean. Without horses, we won’t make it far.” And, though I didn’t say it, I felt sure Lyman wouldn’t let Jane go without pursuing her, especially with me. He wanted her for himself. I tried not to think about it, finding myself growing angry at the thought.

  Jane added, “Since they’re expecting John tonight, we wouldn’t have much of a start on them.”

  Hannah’s optimism deflated a bit. “Then we don’t have a chance.”

  “You never know,” I said encouragingly. “Maybe I can convince Lord Wright to let us go. At the very least, I won’t have to figure out a way inside the fortress.”

  Mr. Wolfe spoke up, “I’m sorry. Short of Lord Wright’s permission, and without an actual plan of escape, I’m afraid I can’t allow the risk. There are other alternatives.”

  “Such as?” asked Hannah skeptically.

  “We can continue as we always have. There is no reason why we have to flee right away.”

  “Except that John is about to go up to the garrison tonight,” blurted Jane uncharacteristically. “Who knows what will happen to him?”

  It made me feel wonderful to have her support.

  “I know you’re concerned, Jane,” he said with growing frustration. “But I think we are being too quick to judge. We don’t know why he was invited. Perhaps he will be offered some government position. If not, then I’m sure a strong, young man like John can get stationed as a town guard, or even as a soldier to the lord. Why else would he be given new clothes and invited to the garrison? They could have killed him by now if they had really wanted to.”

  “You saw how Lyman treated him. You can’t possibly believe he will be treated fairly,” she argued.

  “But it’s not entirely up to Lyman is it?” snapped her father. Then, rubbing his forehead with one hand, in an effort to regain some composure, he added, “Now, tomorrow we will go to the minister of housing and find John permanent living arrangements. That is my final decision.” Turning to me, he added, “You are, of course, welcome to stay here until then.”

  It was pointless to argue. Besides, the fight had gone out of me. My hopes were dashed and my heart sank. The thought of having to stay any longer, to simply exist without reason, was smothering. Even though I’d been living my whole life without aim, at least it was my choice to make. Here, there was no choice, no hope. Like the pierce of a venomous thorn, the despair of Marysvale poisoned my soul, slowly decaying my will to live. I could see no escape from the place that had become my cage.

  Chapter Fifteen: The Market

  WITH nothing left to say, I quickly bathed and dressed in my new clothes. I had to get out. I had to think and calm the growing panic that had taken root in me. Unable to meet Jane’s searching eyes, I left. I was only a block away when a hand slipped around my wrist. Lost in thought, I hadn’t heard anyone approach. I turned and gazed into those deep, green eyes that had the most amazing effect of causing both elation and anxiety. I wanted to snatch Jane up in my arms and never let her go, though I knew that wasn’t going to be possible now, no matter how much I loved her. I didn’t even know for sure whether she felt the same way. There was also the piercing sword of realization that whatever we shared was only a seed of love—true love would only blossom with time and nurturing; and time with Jane appeared to be a fleeting commodity.

  “Can I walk with you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Of course,” I replied, truly glad she came. Offering her my arm, she fell in as we walked the streets of the town. The sun slipped behind a bank of dark clouds, throwing the town into shadow.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “Are you upset?”

  “No,” I lied. Even though I knew I shouldn’t be angry with Mr. Wolfe for doing what he thought best, I was. I also felt extremely disappointed in myself. After all, coming up with any real plan of escape had, well…escaped me.

  “Yes, you are,” she countered.

  I smiled at her. “So you’re now a mind reader?”

  “Good enough to read you.”

  “Am I really that easy?”

  “No, but I can tell you’re upset. Why else would you leave without saying a word, and with no destination in mind? Besides, I can tell because I’m upset, too,” she said sympathetically.

  I looked at her quizzically.

  She read my expression. “I really don’t want to stay in Marysvale either.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I mean…I can’t imagine anyone wanting to live like this; but I want to hear your reasons.”

  “I suppose for the same ones you have,” she answered. “I know what this town is—all of us that live here do. There is no freedom and no future—other than what our leaders decide for us. And I know what my future holds for me if it’s up to Lyman. I can see the way he looks at me. I would rather die than to have to wake up next to him.”

  “Would you be willing to leave your father?”

  She fell quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “Don’t answer. It’s not fair for me to ask that of you.”

  We walked in silence, following street after street in no particular fashion. Walking always helped clear my mind and calm me down, and this time was no exception. I started to notice a few things. Firstly, for a town of this size, the streets were relatively empty, but not entirely. People hurried this way and that, never making eye contact, and ducking their heads as we passed. No one smiled. And the people had one thing amongst them in common…fear.

  Jane, apparently reading my mind again, broke the silence. “They’re afraid. You never know whom you can trust; even family members can be threatened or persuaded to turn on you. Disloyalty and criticism about the town leadership are not tolerated, and the punishment is quite severe. It’s better to keep your mouth shut and not say anything at all, than to open it and say something to the wrong person. And your being dressed in their clothes doesn’t help, either.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Are these their clothes?”

  “Yes. Everything new comes from them. You look like an off duty soldier.”

  A few more streets passed before she asked, “Is there anything else you want to see?”

  “The sight of Marysvale fading away behind us.”

  She smiled. “Anything else?”

  “Not particularly.”

  The noise of a gathering crowd echoed faintly down the street.

  “What’s that sound? Can you hear it?”

  She nodded. “It’s the marketplace.”

  “Let’s go see it,” I suggested.

  “
I’m not sure you want to.”

  “Why?”

  She paused before answering, “Because goods aren’t the only thing being sold there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jane’s face turned grim and she uttered one word, “People.”

  It took me a moment, but comprehension eventually dawned, and then turned to shock.

  “That man from last night?”

  “Perhaps, but I doubt it.” She went on to explain, “There aren’t many slaves here, but there are some. They are bought, traded, and sold in the town square by the nobles. Our leaders enacted slavery as a benevolent alternative to death, and to serve as a deterrent for those inclined to disobey the law.”

  Would I choose to be a slave over death? I pondered. Perhaps if death was the only other alternative…

  Sensing my dilemma, Jane asked, “What troubles you?”

  “I was wondering which I would choose. Maybe that man will be a slave; but he will be alive. Over time, perhaps they may free him.”

  I knew, the moment that I had spoken it, that I didn’t believe it.

  “No,” she said with a sad, slow shake of her head. “But there is another aspect you haven’t thought about. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  “What if I don’t want to see it?”

  “You don’t,” said Jane quietly. “But it may be good for you to see what happens with your own eyes.”

  I felt both reluctant and curious—something inside of me needed to know.

  Jane led me to the town square.

  It was the same place where I had been chased just hours before. Merchants now filled the plaza, if you could really call them that. It was a pitiful sight. Most of the products being sold were worn out with little use left in them. There were odd trinkets, handmade items, bowls, cooking things, cloth, and tools. Few people browsed.

  In the center of the square sat a raised platform, one that hadn’t been there earlier. People milled about it. A large number of them were dressed in fine clothes, with a healthy color to their skin. They were laughing and lost in conversation with each other.

  “Are those the nobles?”

  Jane nodded.

  Townspeople were also in attendance and they, too, talked amongst themselves, though they kept their distance from the nobles.

  As my eyes drifted over the crowd, they fell upon a small, solemn group of people. Many had moist eyes and dabbed at their tears with scraps of cloth. Among them, I noticed the family of the man who had been taken the previous night.

  Jane watched me. “Now you see the true cost of this vile practice. Those are the families of the slaves, hoping to catch a glimpse of their loved ones. Wishing, at the very least, to see if they are still alive. Torture is what it really is: not knowing what happened to them. And if they are to be sold, never permitted to speak to or hold them again. Watching as their husbands, fathers, mothers, and wives are paraded about, beaten, and sold as though they were livestock. They don’t even know if they will be here; but they come, just in case today is the day that their current masters decide to trade or sell them.”

  She posed a question. “If you could decide their fate, what would you choose if it were someone you loved—slavery or death?”

  I said nothing, and felt dreadful as I played out how I would feel if it were Jane, Sarah, or Hannah up there. I knew I would rather they be dead; at least then I would know that they weren’t being tortured or abused for the rest of their lives.

  A murmur broke out as a rather large and muscular man walked onto the platform. He wore well-tailored clothing and a neatly trimmed, brown beard.

  “Who is he?”

  “He is the minister who governs and regulates the selling or trading of slaves. He and his assistants will oversee all transactions.”

  A moment later, three men were brought out onto the platform. Chained at the wrists and feet, they were nearly naked, except for some cloth wrapped around their loins. Their hair was chopped short and they were shaven and clean, presumably presented in their best form so as to fetch a higher price. I turned to leave, not wanting to see anymore. A roar went up from many of the townsfolk, as they yelled and hurled insults at the men.

  I stopped, confused at their reaction. “Why are they jeering? What have these men done?”

  “Most likely, they have committed no serious crime. The supposed real criminals are executed, or the ones the leaders feel are a threat. Most of the slaves simply offended the wrong noble, or committed a petty crime, such as stealing food for their starving families. On a rare occasion, you may see a former soldier who is sold for insubordination, or perhaps striking an officer. They will bring the most money as they are fit and strong.”

  “But why are their fellowmen tormenting them? Don’t they know that any one of them could easily be up there?”

  “I suspect that is precisely why they do it. They don’t want it to be them. Those that are in the audience labor under the assumption that this proves they are loyal to the leadership and nobles. They believe this demonstration of support will keep them and their families safe. They are the ones who will dutifully turn in their neighbors if they catch them doing something contrary to the laws, or even if they simply suspect misbehavior.”

  “And does it buy them favor?” I asked.

  She thought about it. “Perhaps a bit…some may be rewarded by being drafted as a town guard; or they could be recompensed with more food and even a bit of leniency. In the end, they fail to realize that they are simply disposable—useful idiots to the powerful.”

  A group of nobles now stood on the stand, poking, prodding, and generally inspecting their would-be property.

  “I’ve seen enough.”

  Desperation swelled inside of me and I wanted to flee now more than ever—not just the square, but Marysvale itself. Turmoil churned in me. How could I run and leave Jane and Hannah at the mercy of those who ruled here? If given the chance to leave a free man, could I turn my back on them?

  As we walked in silence, the roar of the crowd faded away with every passing step. The cobblestone streets brought back some normalcy—well, as normal as it could be for Marysvale. People still scurried out of my way.

  We rounded a corner and entered a narrow alley. It was empty, except for two soldiers who had an old man trapped against a wall. I recognized the soldiers from the night before. They were part of the contingent who took the man from his family. I also recognized the old man.

  “I know him,” I whispered. “He helped me escape earlier.”

  “You mean Simon?”

  “You know him?”

  “Everyone knows him. He is a nice man and has helped many—the little bit he can.”

  The soldiers hadn’t seen us yet.

  “Oi, whatcha got there Simon,” demanded the younger of the two.

  Simon had something wrapped in cloth, which he clutched protectively to his chest.

  “Nuttin,” he snapped.

  “If it’s nuttin, then why don’t you show us?”

  “Cause it’s none of yer business.”

  “Wrong,” said the older soldier menacingly. “Everything is our business.”

  Jane whispered in my ear, “Let’s leave before they see us.”

  “I’m not running,” I stated flatly. “Not this time.”

  I quivered with anger. Jane looked scared, but stood by my side.

  The older soldier grabbed Simon by the sleeve and tried to pry the bundle from him. “Give it!” he ordered.

  “NO!” shouted Simon defiantly.

  The soldier violently ripped Simon’s arms apart and flung him sprawling on the cobblestone. The bundle fell and the cloth unraveled, revealing a loaf of bread.

  Simon’s face and hands were scraped and bleeding; he struggled to his knees and tried to get up. The bully put his boot on his rump and kicked him down again. Meanwhile, the younger one hooted with laughter. He scooped up the bread and took a bite.

  The bubbling cauldron welling
inside me exploded into rage.

  I shot down the street like a charging bull.

  The soldiers, busy tormenting their victim, and never dreaming that someone would come to the old man’s aid, remained oblivious to my attack.

  I leapt into the air and kicked out and into the back of the older, unsuspecting soldier with every ounce of speed and strength I could muster. He flew into the outer wall of a home like a rag doll, bounced off at an angle, and fell in a heap onto the cobblestone street.

  I landed in a crouch.

  The younger soldier turned, just in time to see me spring up and smash my fist into the side of his face. The force ratcheted his head around; his body followed suit as the entirety of him twirled and slumped already unconscious to the ground.

  The older soldier was scrambling to his feet. I leapt over his comrade and grabbed the back of his coat with one hand and the back of his hair with the other. I hauled him up and launched him head first into the wall.

  Instantly, he fell and joined his companion in an unconscious stupor.

  I reached down and helped Simon stand. He shakily found his feet.

  “Wonderful,” he said breathlessly, with a gleam in his eye.

  Jane ran up; she looked terrified.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “You!” she gasped. “You have no idea what you’ve done. After they wake, they will go for help and search the town for you. They will be brutal with anyone involved. Even more so to those who help you!”

  Simon nodded in agreement. “Afraid she’s right. Much as I enjoyed it, it’ll cause nuttin but trouble.”

  I looked down at the two unconscious soldiers. Both had long knives in their belts. I reached down, withdrew one, and tested the blade. It was sharp. Disarming the other soldier of his weapon, I handed it to Simon. Then, squatting next to the younger one, I cut several long bands of cloth from his shirt. Using one of the strips, I gagged him.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Jane.

  “Keeping them quiet,” I replied simply. I then proceeded to cut his hair with the knife.

  “By cutting off their hair!” she exclaimed exasperated.