by S E Turner
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Here, in the great light filled spaces between the jewelled domes, the huge silhouette of the master was waltzing with an imaginary partner. A solitary figure stood with a violin crooked into the crease of his neck and played a delightful tune. The other musicians waited for their cue from Hezekiah, and a raised eyebrow signalled to them as he swept past. The sweet chords of the strings gave way to the sonorous brass, while the reed and the woodwind haunted the ensemble. He continued to conduct the symphony, singing with the great anthem as it rolled across the floor boards. Lost in the music, the walls vibrated and the candelabras shook, even the bottles in the basement, several feet below, rattled with the octaves. Everyone knew it was time. Hezekiah stopped, and breathed in the air.
His gaze was elsewhere now as he pictured his future. In just a few hours, he would be married. His bride, the beautiful Saskia, would be free from her cell, and she would live with him in his quarters. She would dine with him and dance with him. She would share his bed, she would love him and admire him wherever he was and whatever he did. A touch would be thrilling, a kiss would be sublime, and now, at last, life would be so perfect.
Alone in the room, as the gold and scarlet rays of a rising sun shone through her window, her thoughts were quite different. This extraordinary mountain slavery had been run by the people who had burned her home and enslaved her family. One of them had killed her brother. Today was judgement day. After two years imprisonment, at last she would be free to execute her revenge. Today was the day of her wedding and the day the king would die. She looked out of the window for the last time. Below, the familiar scene changed colour as the fingers of dawn cast an artists palette over the landscape. She shrugged out of her towel and slipped into a bath robe—and waited.
Cornelius slumped against the railings. Warm tears fell down his cheeks as Philipe continued.
'That's the story my friend, and now I am out of time. Coben has told me what to do. He has even given me a guard's uniform and a dagger to use. But I fear that not one of us is strong enough to use them. I have told him that we are all too weak. He understands our situation of course. But he is on his own up there. Unless one of us can come from behind to support him, it may mean certain death for all of us.'
Cornelius had been thinking long and hard. All through the story he had been amazed at the resilience and bravery of all Philipe's contemporaries. What a wonderful father he was, what a stoic brother Vlavos was. What an incredible girl Saskia was; she must have taken after both her parents he thought.
He wondered if he had a loving family like that somewhere. Did he have parents who loved him unconditionally and worried over him, wanting the best for him, encouraging him to be a good person? Did he have a beautiful sister who had loved him and played with him, having mock fights and realistic role plays—a sister whom he protected and loved?
He hoped he did. He hoped that someday he would be reunited with them all. His mother, his father and his beautiful sister.
He knew that he needed to help these people. Because if he was alone and didn't have a family, or he never remembered who they were; then Philipe would be his family. The thought of that gave him courage. The thought of helping these people made him feel good about himself. With a strong heart and a deep sense of loyalty, he hailed the words that would make his friend happy.
'What do you want me to do?'
Chapter Thirty
This time, he dreamed he was at a magnificent feast, a victory feast in a Great Hall. He had a seat on the dais, and men were lifting their goblets and hailing him as a hero. Philipe sat next to him in his finest robes. Eryk cracked open a vintage bottle of champagne and toasted his long life. Sir Laus took up a silver sword, and touching him on both shoulders, made him a knight of the highest order. The two brothers had carved out a magnificent wooden bust and presented it to him with honour. Nate had brought in the biggest trout this side of the kingdoms and served it on a silver platter dish with all the trimmings.. Then, after all the lavish gifts and bestowed honours, Fyn heralded a loud trumpet, calling Tion and Will to hoist him onto their shoulders and carry him around the room to the rapturous applause of: 'For he's a jolly good fellow.'
Then he woke up—still in the cell—still in the dark—still on his own—with the stench of faeces and the smell of fear around him. Because today was no ordinary day; and the smell of fear came from ten anxious men. He knew what he had to do. Philipe had gone over the plan again and again until he could recite it word for word. His finger nails were chewed to the quick with anticipation. He felt like he hadn't slept all night—certainly it was disturbed. He raked his hands through his hair, then rubbed the worry from his pitted eyes. He heard the sound of the door opening, an escaped breath of air weaved through the passage and caressed his face. He stood up slowly, staggered to the door, focusing all his energy on the task ahead—and waited.
He heard the Bruiser approaching with their meagre rations of gruel and rancid flagons of water. He stood at the bars, his fingers curled round the metal rods, he began to shout and scream.
'There's something wrong with me, help me .'
'Shut up in there,' came the curt reply.
'I am ill, you have to help me.'
The Bruiser came over and struck his knuckles viciously with his baton.'
'There's only one thing wrong with you boy—you're still alive.'
Cornelius spat at him. 'I'm ill, you fat bastard.'
'What did you say to me?'
His mouth was square with venom and he could barely unlock the door he was that fuelled with rage. 'You are going to wish that you had never been born by the time I have finished with you.'
He was Cornelius' side of the door now and thumping the baton in the palm of his callous hand. He breathed deeply out of huge flared nostrils and pushed Cornelius backwards.
Cornelius shuffled back to his pallet, the shackles a reminder of his limitations. The guard was right in front of him. Cornelius could smell his rancid breath. The baton was raised in preparation for a strike. Cornelius caught sight of the Bruiser's face—broken veins, bloodshot eyes, loathsome, wretched, and hateful. The Bruiser looked at Cornelius—a shaggy beard streaked orange and brown covered his face, unwashed golden hair coiled past his shoulders in matted tangles, brilliant blue eyes glinted in the lamplight.
Cornelius' heart was hammering in his chest, but fear had sharpened his mind clearing the fog that had consumed him for so long. Almost at the bed he feigned weakness in front of the ogre. Just enough time to confuse his nemeses. Then, with a sudden surge of power, he grabbed the Bruiser's wrist with his left hand, forcing the baton from his grip, and ducked away from the vicious blow as he pulled the Bruiser's arm wide. His own arms ached against an unyielding force, but managed to slam a weak punch into the Bruiser's stomach. His captor brought his fist up but Cornelius dodged it again and swiped the guard in the face. Something splattered on the walls—it must have been the Bruiser's blood. The flickering lights in the niches created monsters on the rocks; howling, laughing, cheering—but Cornelius was used to these effigies now.
The Bruiser grappled for the baton, but Cornelius got there first. The huge guard came at Cornelius, yelling and roaring like a wild pig, but Cornelius winded him with a full arm lunge. The guard doubled over and Cornelius brought up the baton and thrust it into his groin. The man doubled over and fell on the floor. Cornelius struck the baton between his legs again. The Bruiser writhed on the floor. Cornelius was quick to batter him with the club; he didn't care where it was landing now for he had to disable this brute. Then the candlelight exposed a line of blood trickling down his temple and the Bruiser struggled no more.
Undeterred, Cornelius retrieved the weapons and keys chained to the leather belt around the disabled man's waist. Then, just to be sure, he bound and gagged him tightly. Unlocking the shackles round his ankles he rubbed at the emerging bruises and raw split skin. Then stepped through the door and and locked the Bruise
r in the cell.
Standing beside Philipe's cell, he unlocked the door and quickly released the shackles on his ankles.
'How did you learn to fight like that?' said Philipe handing Cornelius the pile of clothes.
'I didn't think it was anything very impressive,' said Cornelius, climbing into a padded jerkin, leather wrist bands, leather breeches, goatskin boots, and a grey guard's cloak. He took the dagger, held it up to see the glint from the light bounce off it, and slipped it in his boot.
Philipe rolled his eyes. 'You've just knocked out the Bruiser, that's pretty impressive in my book.'
Cornelius shrugged. 'I needed to get a job done.'
Philipe looked at him and put a hand on his shoulder. ' Thank you. How can I ever repay you?' Cornelius was listening, but busy tying a strip of leather round his matted hair. He looked up to Philipe and smiled. 'You are my friends. We all needed to get out.'
Making sure that Philipe was okay, he gave him a set of peasant's clothes—a ripped vest and a pair of thin trousers, and then made his way down the cages of captive men.
'Good work boy, remind me not to get on the wrong side of you,' said Eryk, as Cornelius unlocked the door.
'I trust that will never happen.' Cornelius took off the leg irons.
'If you need anything, anything at all, you will find me at Condor Vale. It's south of Aiden Hall. Remember that won't you.'
'I will.'
He put on the creased, grey garments, and walked out of the cell a free man. 'We have a summer fair every year, it's a grand occasion. Many people come to it. You will join us next year won't you?'
Cornelius nodded and hugged his friend. 'You can count on it Eryk.'
He moved along to unlock the next cell and remove the leg irons of the inmate.
'Well done for disposing of that guard so swiftly,' said Jak, gripping his shoulders and hugging him. 'We couldn't have done this without you.'
'It was nothing—really.'
Nate looked at him. 'I am on the lake, south of Castle Dru if you need my assistance—for anything.'
Sir Laus was next to be freed. 'I am right up in the mountains in Sturt Manor. My family have connections with the king—so remember that if you need me, it doesn't matter how small or how trivial. I will never forget what you have done for us and I'll always be there for you.' He clapped a hand on Cornelius' back as he walked out of the cell a free man.
Will offered him work on his farm as he waited to be freed. 'It's a small holding, but I am indebted to you. I wish I could fight like that.'
Cornelius smiled.
'I don't think the Bruiser will be bothering anyone again,' said Ti.
They all looked over to the motionless body.
'He got what he deserved,' said Cornelius, unlocking the chains and releasing the irons.
'If you fancy working in a blacksmith, I am near the palace in Ataxata. I shoe all the horses there.'
'Thank you Ti, I will remember that.'
'But watch out for his horses,' chuckled Fyn. 'You could be known as the man with no name and no eye.'
The other men laughed out loud for the first time in years. Even Cornelius couldn't keep a straight face as he unlocked Fyn's chains.
'But really, I could do with someone like you on my ranch. I also have connections with those at Castle Dru, so drop by and say hello when all this is over.'
'I will do, thank you Fyn.'
Ike was the next to be unlocked, and reuniting with his brother, offered Cornelius work in their timber yard if he needed it .
'We wouldn't have to worry about anyone attacking us with you on our land.'
'I don't know about that,' said Cornelius modestly. 'I caught him off guard. He wasn't prepared for me to launch in like that.'
'You are too humble,' said Ike with raised eyebrows. 'You were the better fighter, and no mistake.'
Cornelius nodded, thankful for the praise, and realised for the first time what he had actually done. Though more importantly, how had he learned to fight like that? His mind was a quandary as he watched his comrades adjust their rags with belts and leather cords, then they turned to Philipe.
He was detailing the plan for the umpteenth time. 'Coben has told me that the path will be clear for us, he has given me the instructions.' Then he turned to Cornelius. 'Are you sure you know the route dear friend?'
'I may have forgotten my name and a past life, but I do remember every detail that you have told me.'
'All right, so you know what you have to do, and we know what we have to do. Just do exactly what Coben has instructed, and then get yourself and Saskia to safety.'
Philip stopped talking and embraced Cornelius.
'Thank you for this dear friend.'
'Thank me when it's all over Philipe. You take this lantern and I will go and get Saskia.'
Philipe took the light and led the other men. It was dark all the way through. But the lantern offered some sort of comfort with their daring escape. Philipe felt his way deeper into the cave, it was vast with tunnels and chambers running in all directions. Coben had said not to go straight on, but to turn right when they found a natural arch. Markers would lead the way after that. The men couldn't see much at all, and were thankful for the markers. They sensed they were going deeper, and so far down that they must have been miles beneath the mountain now. It became damp and cold. They had to crawl on their hands and knees at one point, and then on their bellies.
'Why isn't it warm,' called out Laus from the back. 'It has always been heated from the burning fire.'
'We are going in a different direction now dear friend. Have faith in Coben, he knows these labyrinths.'
They followed the passage as it went further and further down, then a small, cramped tunnel took them down another passageway.
'Are we going the right way Philipe?' Tion felt his way along the unfamiliar walls.
'Yes, I can still feel the markers,' assured Philipe. 'Is everyone still here.'
The group of eight men behind him, all said they were.
'How much further Philipe? I hope that Coben isn't taking us to another mine,' said Will, his voice anxious and chilled.
'He wouldn't do that to us. He's not like the others,' said Ike, eager to prevent any panic.
After inching along on their bellies for some considerable distance, Will began to panic .
'We must be going the wrong way. Coben wouldn't have come all the way down here.'
'Maybe he had someone else to help him.' Nate offered a suggestion.
'I'm following the markers Will, it's just a bit further.' Philipe remained calm.
Nate told him to breathe slowly and to stay positive, he kept reassuring him that everything would be okay.
Still, their journey continued; dropping further down into tunnels, squeezing through bends in the rocks, edging through shallow water, brushing against jagged boulders. Eventually the cave opened up again and they could all stand up. Water trickled down the walls, and the stench of sulphur was overpowering.
'Coben said about the sulphur, we are nearly there.'
The troop hurried, spirits raised by the smell, and then they saw it. The light at the end of the tunnel.
'No wonder Hezekiah didn't let us come this way.' Laus was sickened. 'It takes us out into the open.'
'All this time. I don't believe it.' Ike's voice paled into an echo.
'I don't believe it either,' murmured Jak. 'We could have escaped years ago.'
'Spare a thought for Marshal, men. If only we had known about this back then, he could have got away with the rest of us.' Nate remembered his old friend and wished he had been with them to share this memorable day.
The troop paid their respects to a good man, who had spent too long in captivity— and sadly died .
Soon, their path became a natural ledge, and they saw an open mouth.
'You go first Will, let's get you to the other side.' The men made way for their friend and watched as he disappeared from view.
'This is the mouth of hell, and no mistake,' Will called back as his feet found the floor; and seeing what lay ahead, he felt safe at last.
'You're not wrong there,' said Tion, squeezing himself through behind him.
'Free!' cried Fyn, coming through next.
It was only wide enough to allow a small child access, or a very thin man. No one else but these half starved bodies would make it. They wriggled and squirmed, desperate to inhale the fresh air and feel the warm sun on their faces again. One by one, they inched their way out of their tomb and stumbled into the sunlight. Philipe squeezed himself out of the small opening as if he had just been born again. He remained recumbent on the ground, breathing and listening to the sound of his beating heart. The sun shot a ray across his path. He opened his eyes. His hand acted as a shield, but now he could see what was in front of him.
When Nate dropped to the ground, he didn't want the men to see his tears, and wiped them away with the back of his hands. Jak took hold of his brother, his eyelids creased against the glare. Ike had his back to the light. Eryk lifted his shirt over his face to protect his eyes, but he could see enough. Laus was the last one through, and took a peek back into the abyss, before turning to vacate the cruel, dark prison forever .
Here, there were no guards, no fences, no doors to unlock. Just the massive mouth of a cave and a lagoon of spring water that lead out into a river. The men were struck dumb, still reeling from the revelation that their freedom had been so close. But now, they were able to see their comrades for the very first time.
Nate was the first to jump in, and stayed submerged for some time before coming up for air. The white powder from the mine, melted away from his face and body instantly, and although extremely pale and very thin, the first taste of freedom fed his soul, and he could feel the blood pumping around his veins again. The other men jumped in after him, and splashed around as though they were fifteen years old again. Then they saw three rowing boats secured to a boulder.
