by Jody Hedlund
Now again, as he met my gaze, I could feel that same interest. Did he really think I was beautiful? I suppose his appreciation was no different than my acknowledging he’d grown into a fine-looking young man. With his well-defined features and lush green eyes, he could be considered handsome by those who emphasized such earthly attributes. Of course, as a postulant, I wasn’t one to focus on that kind of thing.
But what about Colette? Had she thought Edmund was handsome? She’d certainly seemed enamored with him. Her whispered words returned to me: I shall love you like Maribel never can. I promise to make you happy.
Was she right? Could I never love Edmund and make him happy the way she could?
“I wouldn’t fault you if you changed your mind and left with Sheba.” He wiped his perspiring brow with the back of his arm.
“You will not be rid of me that easily.”
He didn’t respond, except to continue to pry away the seal. I knew he regretted his decision to allow me to stay with him. And doubts assailed me whether I’d been right to insist on remaining rather than escaping to Norland. What if King Ethelwulf’s guard captured me? They’d take the ancient key and the piece of the map, making it impossible for Queen Adelaide Constance to find the hidden treasure.
I dug harder. We had to get into the labyrinth. We’d hide there for a few days. And then once the king’s guards gave up the search and left, we’d make our way to Norland. It would be simple, I told myself.
When we removed all the mortar, we used our weapons to pry the opening upward. It was heavy, and with Edmund’s injured shoulder, his strength was reduced by at least half. I tried to make up for it, but I was no replacement.
Even when Edmund formed a makeshift lever to pry the stone plate loose, it still took long minutes before it moved enough to wedge the lever farther under it. Finally, after more heaving, the stone scraped across the cave floor, revealing a dark sloping tunnel with the rusted remains of cart rails, likely once used in hauling rock pieces to the surface.
Edmund stuck his head inside and sniffed. “There must be another entrance from the outside somewhere else.”
I tested the scent, smelling nothing but mildew, soil, and perhaps the rancid odor of a dead rat. “How can you tell?”
“The air is still breathable, and I don’t detect dangerous fumes.”
We made preparations to descend, filling our water pouches and gathering roots and twigs, which we tied into a pack with Edmund’s cloak. With the fresh provisions, along with Sheba’s generous supply of meat, I was optimistic we’d survive the labyrinth just fine. If only we had a way to camouflage the opening so that the king’s guard wouldn’t discover it. But after struggling to close the stone to no avail, we knew we had no choice but to proceed even if the enemy decided to follow us.
As we descended, the rocky gravel made each foothold precarious, and I slid countless times. Torch in hand, Edmund led the way, going slowly and bracing me as best he could. When the passageway finally leveled, I was surprised to find that it branched into three identical tunnels. They were wide enough to allow a cart but too low for standing upright. Made of smooth gray walls, they were plain, with no markings to identify or set them apart.
I studied the entrance for each and shuddered at the prospect of winding through the tight confines. Even so, I squared my shoulders. “Which one?”
“Let’s look at the map and pray it can help us.”
I pulled out the parchment, unrolled it, and together we studied the maze. I searched for a place where three tunnels converged, but found nothing.
“Do you see anything?” I shifted to watch him. His noble features were taut with concentration, his eyes narrowed, his hair loose across his forehead. The sheen of perspiration on his upper lip and the flush in his cheeks told me how much pain he suffered. I should have insisted on repacking his wounds with fresh poultice and ointment before beginning our trek into the maze. But I’d been fortunate he’d allowed me to come at all, much less slow down our escape.
He circled his finger around and touched the western side of the map. “I think we are here.”
“How can you tell?”
“From the rock deposits I passed on my way here, I believe we’re at a western entrance of the labyrinth. Even if this piece of the map is for the eastern half, we should still be able to navigate as long as we remember to follow the mirror image of the trail.”
I studied the area near his finger. “But here there is only one tunnel leading into the maze. Not three.”
“Many labyrinths have multiple false paths at the opening. My feeling is that of the three, one is safe and the other two lead to traps that will likely kill us or anyone who takes them.”
I walked forward to examine the entrances more carefully. “Perhaps the middle one?”
“Are you guessing, or do you have logic for your choice?” Despite the seriousness of the situation, his tone filled with mirth because he already knew the answer.
“Everybody knows the middle road is always the best to travel.” I tossed a smirk over my shoulder, relieved again that even though we were having strange and intense new feelings between us, we could easily banter as we always had.
He paced from one entrance to the next. I guessed he was making use of all his senses to discover every detail he could—sights, smells, sounds, air movement, and more. After a moment, he stood in the far left entrance. “This one has the most airflow. The other two eventually lead to dead ends.”
I started into the left tunnel, but he jerked me back. “Wait, Maribel. I want to test them first.”
“How?”
“I’ll walk into them and see if I come out alive.”
I turned horrified eyes to him only to see him grinning. I swatted him, glad we could find humor even in the midst of the worst of circumstances.
Handing me the torch, he retrieved three medium rocks from the slope, kneeled, and pitched one down the far right tunnel. The steady clank of its movement down the slight hill picked up momentum and then stopped. Several seconds later a plop was followed by sizzling.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I suspect the path abruptly ends, that the rock fell off and landed into a pool of some kind of acid that has the power to eat anything it touches.”
“A deadly brew awaiting unsuspecting travelers?”
“Exactly.” Edmund tossed the second rock down the middle path. It rolled a few seconds longer, but then a whistling noise was followed by a sharp thwack.
“A rotating blade,” Edmund explained. “It likely would have sliced the stone in half had it been softer.”
I shuddered at the image of a human meeting such a fate.
He threw the third stone down the left path, and this time it went unhindered until it hit a turn in the tunnel. Edmund examined the map. “Yes, I do believe we’re on the western end.”
“‘Are you guessing, or do you have logic for your choice?’” I mimicked his earlier words.
“I’m guessing, of course,” he said with all seriousness even though his eyes twinkled. “This area has a corner and a turn about the distance the rock traveled.”
I was tempted to jest with him again, but he slanted a glance toward the opening far above, his expression losing all mirth.
“We need to be on our way.” He stepped around me, holding the map in one hand and taking back the torch in the other. “I’ll go first.”
We ducked as we made our way through the passage. The air was cold and the stone walls equally chilly to the touch. The rugged, low ceiling presented dangerously sharp outcroppings in some places.
At every turn, Edmund stopped to study the map and gauge our position. He pointed to a circular area branching off one passageway near the middle of the map. “We might be able to hide there.”
I nodded, trusting him to keep us safe. “Do you think the other opening is on the eastern side of our map? Perhaps in an identical spot to the one we entered?”
He peered carefully
at the map. “It would appear the image is identical and so likely would have an entrance in the exact area. At least that’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Does this mean we shall attempt to make our way there?”
He traced his finger first along one route, then another, and another. He followed several more until sighing. “I’m not sure we can reach the eastern edge by sticking to the paths on our little piece of the outer rim of the map. I see only dead ends.”
“So you think the route to the eastern entrance passes through a different segment of the map?”
“It’s likely, and we cannot venture into the midsection without its map to guide us. It’s too risky. We need to stay in this area and on the trails that are clearly marked, even if that means we have to wait to leave until Ethelwulf’s forces are gone.”
I deflated only a little. I wanted to remain hopeful that with our map and the knowledge there was another way out, we’d locate it. Perhaps in the process of exploring, we’d even discover more the hidden treasure.
We continued winding our way through one tunnel after another. Since each passage and doorway looked the same, I felt as though we were walking in circles and never going anywhere. I easily became disoriented and wasn’t sure I’d be able to find my way, even with the map.
I prayed Edmund was more confident in his sense of direction than I was. From his slight limp and the echo of his strained breath, I’d have to encourage him to rest soon. He was taxing himself.
When he came to an abrupt halt, I almost bumped into him. I peered beyond him, but could see nothing but the curving tunnel. “What is it?”
He pressed a finger against his lips in a motion for silence and stood absolutely still as though concentrating. After a few seconds, he pursed his lips in displeasure and then spoke. “They’ve entered the labyrinth. We need to find that hiding spot.”
By “they” I knew he was referring to King Ethelwulf’s knights. I strained to listen, but the echo of our breathing against the stone drowned out any other sound. “Are they close?”
“No, they’re at the beginning with the three tunnels. I heard the screams of those who chose wrongly.”
A shiver raced up my spine at the realization of how careless I would have been had I explored the labyrinth on my own without Edmund. I wouldn’t have thought to test each of the routes before starting.
I reached for Edmund’s arm and squeezed. “I am grateful to have your wisdom and guidance, Edmund. Without you, I would have experienced their fate.”
“I will remind you of your praise next time you object to something I request of you,” he teased, starting forward faster.
I rushed to keep up with his stride, even with his limping. When finally the tunnel veered into a small cavern, we stumbled to a stop.
“Here we are,” he said. “Our hiding place.” He raised the torch high.
I gasped at the sight that met us.
Skeletons of all shapes and sizes littered the floor . . . including those belonging to humans.
Chapter
12
Edmund
“We cannot stay here,” Maribel said, her wide eyes taking in the piles of bones—likely the remains of people and animals long lost in the maze. Or perhaps, this was a lair of the creature who lived in the underground tunnels, one of the places he ate his prey.
I had no doubt the beast was alive somewhere in the labyrinth. I’d caught faint echoes of the creature’s language, a strange and ancient one. The beast was far enough away for now but was steadily moving closer, likely having heard us and picked up our scent.
“The bones won’t hurt us,” I teased, trying to ease her fear and mask my pain. The wound in my shoulder throbbed unrelentingly, making me want to drop to my knees and groan.
Maribel didn’t return my smile. Instead, she trembled. “Did all these people get lost?”
I shoved aside a pile of the skeletons with my boot. “We’re not lost, Maribel. We’re exactly where I hoped we’d be. And now we need to get comfortable, extinguish our torch, and wait for Ethelwulf’s men to leave.” Without a map, the soldiers would have a difficult time navigating. But it was possible they could stumble across our hiding place. In that case, I’d have to be prepared to fight.
Maribel took a step back into the tunnel, her face pale, her eyes still wide. “Perhaps we made a mistake coming down here.”
It was too late to rebuke her for being stubborn and remind her she could have gone with Sheba. But neither would it help to focus on how much danger we were in.
When Ethelwulf’s men tired of looking for us or if the search became too hazardous, they’d wait at the top for us to emerge—like a fox waiting outside a hare’s burrow, ready to pounce. I doubted they’d leave until they knew we were dead.
I hadn’t wanted to tell Maribel we’d be trapped down here if I didn’t find an alternate way out. Even without the other pieces of the map, eventually I’d need to explore further into the maze for another exit, testing scents, sound, light, and any other clues I could locate. But I’d do the searching without Maribel so that I didn’t put her into any further danger. My first priority was to ensure her safety. And to do so, we had to make ourselves invisible until Ethelwulf’s men grew discouraged looking for us.
I cleared aside more bones, enough that we’d have a spot to sit without Maribel fearing the skeletons.
“At least you will get to rest.” She opened her medical bag.
I refrained from telling her I wouldn’t rest much. I’d have to stay alert in order to defend her against any soldiers who happened upon us.
“Now sit.” She retrieved a small clay pot and opened it. “I shall put more of the painkilling poultice on your wounds to ease your discomfort.”
I didn’t have the energy to resist. In fact, I relished the thought of the cool relief her medicinal supplies would bring. I leaned against the cave wall and slid down until I was sitting with my legs stretched out in front of me.
When she started to lift my cloak and shirt, I closed my eyes. I pretended to rest, but the truth was I didn’t want her to see how much I liked her touch. I’d already made a fool of myself by reacting to her beautiful hair earlier. I had to stay in control and keep my feelings for her stashed away.
With my bare skin exposed and her fingers brushing my bicep, I tensed.
“It will only sting for a moment,” she said softly. Her words were followed by burning pressure against my injury. The pain took my breath away and made me dizzy. Only then did I grasp the seriousness of my injury and the possibility it might not heal—that I could grow weaker and that I might not be able to lead Maribel to safety.
Mentally, I shook myself. I couldn’t think that way. Wade had taught me the skills to survive any hardship. No matter what, I’d make sure Maribel was secure before succumbing to my injury.
Once she’d applied the poultice to my shoulder and the wounds on my leg, we refreshed ourselves with water, ate some of the roots we’d gathered, and then extinguished the torch. The darkness was so complete we couldn’t see anything, not even the space directly in front of our faces.
“Do you think the soldiers have left yet?” she whispered.
“No, they wouldn’t dare.” Her leg brushed against mine, as did her arm, the sign she was sidling closer. Although I wanted to draw her into the circle of my arm, I resisted the temptation.
“Perhaps the three entrance tunnels scared them away,” she offered hopefully.
“Captain Theobald won’t let anything scare him away.” My voice came out more bitter than I intended.
“Who is Captain Theobald?”
“The twisted man who murdered my family.” Once the words were out, I wished I hadn’t uttered them. In all the years living at the convent, I’d never spoken of my family, of what I’d experienced that fateful day they’d died. As we’d grown up, Maribel and Colette had known I wouldn’t talk about it, that their questions would be met with silence. So they’d never brought it up. Nei
ther had Wade. I guessed he’d seen too much senseless violence and had wanted to forget about it every bit as much as I had.
Even now, Maribel didn’t push me to explain, respecting my desire to forget after all these years. Through the dark, her fingers groped for mine. I gladly, willingly, let her find my hand and didn’t resist when she laced our fingers together. I knew it was her unspoken way of offering me her support.
I clutched her hand, hoping she understood it was my unspoken way of saying thanks.
We sat in comfortable companionship. After a while, she rested her head against my uninjured shoulder. I wanted to tell her more, tried to think of what I could say to give voice to those awful days that had changed my life forever. Where did I even begin?
I opened my mouth, but couldn’t formulate any words.
She squeezed my hand. “We had a good life at the convent, did we not?” she whispered hesitantly.
“We did,” I whispered in return. I would be forever grateful to Wade for the risks he took in smuggling me out of Delsworth, for bringing me to the convent, for the years he spent teaching me everything he knew. My throat tightened at the loss of such an honorable man. He’d been a strict instructor, but I wouldn’t be half the man I was if not for him.
“Will we ever be able to go back?” Sadness tinged her voice.
I wanted to reassure her, give her hope, make everything right in her life. But she deserved my honesty. “No. At least not while Ethelwulf remains on the throne.”
She sighed. “What will happen to the nuns? And to Colette?”
“We shall pray God keeps them safe.” I hoped Theobald had no need of them now that Maribel was gone and would leave them in peace. But Theobald’s methods were unpredictable and inhumane. There was no telling what he might do.
The soft clink of Maribel’s rosary told me she was taking my request for prayers seriously. For long minutes, she touched the various beads, offering silent pleas. I added my own, although less formal, prayers to hers.
