The Secret Slipper

by Amanda Tero

  Abtshire

  Lia hugged her knees to her chest, willing her body to stop shaking. It was because it was cold down here. Not because she was afraid. Her eyes wouldn’t adjust to the darkness. Down in the dungeon. Her teeth chattered. Mayhap she was scared.

  Chains rustled. Lia froze.

  “Newcomer, eh?”

  Even if she tried, Lia wasn’t sure she could speak.

  “A wee lass? What evil did you do?” There was a hint of pity in this stranger’s voice.

  Lia swallowed back the tears. ‘Twasn’t my evil! Mayhap the stranger would believe her. If only she could form her thoughts into words.

  “Ye best get some sleep.” The voice sounded motherly. Or grandmotherly, given the huskiness.

  Sleep? In this place? And with iron pressing against her ankles?

  “Though…if ye were not to sleep, a soul gets a mite lonesome down here. Can ye talk, lass?”

  Lia heard a whimper. Had it come from her? She opened her mouth, but her “aye” skittered through the shadows like dust.

  “Well, mayhap ye can give a listen. I’ve been having a right jolly time down here.”

  “J-jolly?” Lia’s voice squeaked as if it were a rusty gate, not wanting to let her voice out.

  “Aha! She does speak.” The hoarse voice laughed. “My name is Zuzene. I don’t get much company nowadays besides the rodents. But the good Father above doesn’t mind that. It gives Him and me more time to speak.”

  Surely time alone had made this woman go daft. Lia shuddered. “How…how long have you been…down here?”

  “I lose count. Some days, I wish Feroci would just give up past offenses and release me. Other days, I wish he’d get so angry he’d kill me.”

  “That is awful!” Lia shuddered again. Then, she realized that her uncontrollable shaking had ceased. Or, at least had lessened.

  “I have frightened you, lass.” Zuzene’s voice turned gentle. “Too eager for company, I suppose. What is your name?"

  “Lia.”

  “Lia.” Zuzene rolled the name off her tongue as if she were a child tasting a confection. “Tell me about yourself, Lia.”

  “‘Tisn’t much to tell.” The days of the past molded together to form a lump of dark, meaningless nothing.

  “Surely there is.”

  “I am a cripple.” There. The words that had refused to flee her lips were uttered in the safety of darkness.

  “A cripple? And that makes nothing much to tell? How did you become a cripple?”

  “I know not.” Lia’s brain was foggy or she would try to redirect the conversation.

  “Is that why you are here?”

  “Nay.” Lia caught her breath. “Aye!” Was that not why she was here? Because she couldn’t run away—not from Bioti, not from the sheriff’s men.

  “Poor lass. Mayhap a night of sleep will clear the confusion.”

  “A night’s sleep will not keep me from death.” As she said the word, a vice grip seemed to tighten around her throat. Death! It seemed to bounce around the underground walls.

  “You are certain of death?”

  “Whyever not? Is that not the sheriff’s penalty for stealing—if there is no way to prove innocence?”

  “Ah.” Zuzene drew the word out, long and breathy. “In that case, we have all night. I will listen if you care to share about it.”

  Lia hesitated. She had nothing more to lose. Mayhap talking it out would ease her confusion. Give an answer to her problem. She took a shuddering breath and began talking about the one whose fault she was here: Bioti. When she finished, with how Bioti’s wile had landed her in the dungeon, Zuzene clicked her tongue.

  “This Bioti. She sounds like she is miserable.”

  “Her? Miserable?” Lia laughed. An empty shell of a laugh.

  “Ye think not?”

  Lia stretched her legs, wincing as the iron grated against the stone floor. “I try not to give more thought to Bioti than necessary.”

  “Aye, ‘twas what I thought.” Deep sympathy laced Zuzene’s voice. Sympathy for Lia or…for Bioti?

  “What of you?” Lia was tired of hearing how her voice echoed around the room, sounding small and fearful. “You have asked my story. Now tell me yours.”

  “Eh, ‘tisn’t much to tell. I lived in a cottage above here. I angered someone, some of which was my own doing, and was cast down here.”

  “Yet not killed?”

  “Nay.” Zuzene chuckled. “He doesn’t hate me enough to kill me. That would torment his conscience. As long as I am alive and fed, he has me out of sight and thinks he can live peaceably.”

  “Who?” Lia’s mind spun around Zuzene’s first words. “The sheriff?”

  “Mayhap. It doesn’t matter at any rate. I have forgiven him.”

  “Even if it was not all your fault?”

  “Well, I could rust down here in bitterness. Which, I suppose, would make me as miserable as your Bioti.”

  Lia rubbed her legs where the chills had begun again. This time, she was certain it was from the dampness of underground.

  “So tell me, Lia…what if they did come for you on the morrow, and you were to die? Are you ready for that?”

  The shivers started again. More violent this time. “I…ʻtwould be just as well for me. My life here has been miserable.” Bioti had seen to that.

  “Why would you say that? Every one of God’s creations has a beautiful purpose.”

  Lia choked on another piece of hollow laughter. ‘Twas the dungeon’s fault. She wasn’t usually this cynical. “If He had a purpose for me, He would have made me beautiful to make up for my limp. Or, if I were to be ugly, then at least He could have given me two good feet.”

  “You think God didn’t love you, and has cursed you?”

  That was a good enough explanation.

  “Lia, all of God’s creations are fearfully and wonderfully made. Beauty is not about what a person looks like, but about who a person is.”

  “A slave to Bioti. That makes me beautiful?” Lia spat the words out. She didn’t believe them for one moment. “Such love to make one’s childhood nothing but a nightmare.”

  “But God didn’t do that.”

  “What did He do then?” Lia folded her arms in front of her and leaned against the wall. It was probably mildewed and filthy, but it wasn’t like her dress was

  a gown.

  “He sent His Son to die for you. To take away your sins.” There was a smile in Zuzene’s voice. “Yes, He made us all fearfully and wonderfully. Yes, He loves us. But we are all sinners. You could be the most beautiful lass in the shire, but if you died without accepting His salvation, that beauty would do no good. Your heart must be made beautiful. And that can only happen by believing on the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation.”

  When did the conversation turn from her life to God? Lia closed her eyes. Her head felt heavy. If she could only sleep…nay, that would bring her closer to the dawn of death. A wave of chills washed over her. She would listen to Zuzene talk. It distracted her from the coming doom.

  Abtshire

  The hours of the morn had dragged out, yet not as the past few days had. The weight from Raoul’s chest had lifted, and sometime in the night, his head had stopped throbbing.

  He had dressed in common garb to blend in without suspicion and was now watching the townspeople as they milled around. Women with their baskets, men with their tools. Had it been yesterday, he would have stopped every single one of them, inquiring after Bioti. Today, he chose his subjects cautiously.

  A man rode through town on horseback, the people moving to make way for the horse. The chestnut hung his head low as he plodded. The horse needed rest. Raoul glanced up at the rider.

  “Galien!”

  Galien jerked his head toward Raoul. “M’lord…” He jumped off his horse and walked up to Raoul, his fair skin flushed red from the quick exertion. “I thought you were going to Fordyce.”

  “So we did,” Raoul said. “What finds you h
ere?” He hadn’t thought to send word concerning his whereabouts. He grimaced. He needed to send a note to Elayne. She would be worried, even though she knew of his search.

  “I remembered Nes mentioning Abtshire. I thought, mayhap I could investigate here and bring you news. I see you have preceded me.” Galien fidgeted with the reins of his horse.

  Jolin joined them. “I see we have reinforcement. Have you been here long enough to ask after Bioti?”

  “She left,” Galien said. “I haven’t been here long.”

  “Aye, this we know,” Jolin said. “Any idea as to her whereabouts?”

  “Nes didn’t say?”

  Raoul shifted and cleared his throat. “Nes was dead.”

  Galien nodded and sighed. “ʻTwas for the best.”

  Jolin’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Galien straightened. “He was an old man. Miserable.”

  “He was killed.” Jolin’s voice was flat. Suppressing outrage at Galien’s insensitivity, Raoul knew.

  Galien bowed his head slightly. “I am sorry to hear.” He looked up at Raoul. “What are the plans now, m’lord? Have you any leads?”

  Raoul sighed. “It appears everyone knows Bioti, but no one knows her whereabouts.” He paused. It wasn’t that the townspeople didn’t want to speak of her. They truly didn’t know.

  “Mayhap the lass is not with her.”

  “No,” Jolin said. “She’s with her.”

  Raoul turned to look at him. “The watchman didn’t disclose that.”

  Jolin shrugged, but Raoul knew that look. Jolin was hiding a smirk behind his serious façade. “I asked after her daughters. She has three. Or so people assume.”

  Raoul’s hands felt clammy. He wiped them on his pants. “That much we already know.”

  “Aye,” Jolin agreed. “But I have names. Helga, Geva...” He paused, his blue eyes turning serious. “And a lass they call Lia.”

  Raoul forced air into his lungs. Lia was close enough to Ellia, was it not? But then, wouldn’t Bioti have changed her name entirely? She had no reason to; she thought I wouldn’t find out.

  “Do you believe Nes told Bioti of our search?” Jolin asked.

  “And then she killed him before running?” The headache was returning. Raoul massaged his temples as the noise of the street seemed to rise. It seemed to make sense.

  “Bioti? A murderer?” Galien’s voice was too loud to be in the middle of a crowded street. Raoul glared at him.

  “We haven’t proof.” Jolin’s soft voice seemed to counter the turmoil going on inside Raoul.

  “If Bioti would do such to a man—”

  Jolin frowned at Galien, stopping him from continuing. Raoul didn’t need Galien to word his fears. A chill ran through his body as his mind began surmising. His hand slipped into his pocket. The silk of Ellia’s slipper was smooth against his rough fingers. How would he face whatever the future held—for him, and for her? Comfort seemed as far away as the hope of finding his daughter.

  Trust in the Lord.

  Aye, that was how he would face the answer.

  The wind blew in short puffs, threading its invisible fingers through Raoul’s hair as he walked through the center of Abtshire, where Jolin and Galien had agreed to meet him midday. Though he knew it was unlikely that Ellia was in the crowded streets, he couldn’t keep from observing each lass’s gait. They all skipped or walked steadily as they did their tasks. Which was a good thing, unless one was looking for a lass who was unable to do either. Surely, in the years gone by, Ellia’s limp would be noticeable to any passerby. The physicians had warned Raoul that, if not tended to properly, Ellia could end up a cripple by her twenties. Raoul rolled his shoulders and straightened. Why did these memories come unburied with news that Ellia hadn’t died? How crippled would she be, not having the physician’s care that she would have if she had stayed with Raoul?

  “May I help you, sir?” A lad stepped forward, lugging two buckets of water.

  “Nay, I am only waiting for someone. Thank you.”

  The lad nodded. “Very well.” He continued toward the stables, the weight of the buckets not slowing him down.

  Only waiting. The words pounded in Raoul’s head as he glanced around. Galien appeared in the distance, but he stopped to talk with a man several paces away. His back was to Raoul, as he reached for his pouch. Drawing something out, he handed it to the man, then they continued to talk, the man giving gestures. Raoul frowned. Before they parted ways this morn, he hadn’t provided the men with bribe money.

  Gratitude swelled in Raoul’s heart. It would be just like Galien to use his own coins to help, not waiting to locate Raoul for the money. He would have to address the matter later and repay Galien.

  After talking with the man, Galien slipped off again. Raoul crossed his arms. Hadn’t they agreed to meet soon—or if they found a lead?

  Raoul slipped through the crowds, his focus on Galien’s uncapped blond head. He was moving swiftly, with purpose. Raoul checked the excitement growing inside of him. Galien was quicker to jump to suppositions than Jolin. If Jolin were going through the streets at that pace, he was sure to be on something. Galien? There was only one way to find out.

  The crowd congested in front of Raoul. He stopped and stood on his toes, but Galien was nowhere to be seen. He shoved forward, pushing the commoners back to clear his way. At the end of the crowd, Raoul looked around. A fist seemed to tighten around his heart. ‘Twas just Galien. He’ll tell me later. But he didn’t want to wait until later

  for news.

  The brown-headed lad from earlier stepped in his path, his eyes looking heavenward, as if following the flight of a bird.

  “Have you seen a blond man come through here?”

  “Is he the man for whom you were waiting?”

  “One of them, aye.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  Raoul shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “Nay.” Why were the townspeople so careful with their tongues?

  “Do you know the man?” The lad set his empty buckets on the ground as he rubbed his hands together. They were red from the coarse hemp rope.

  “Why would I be asking you about the man, if I knew him not?”

  The lad shrugged and picked up his buckets again.

  “What is your name?” Raoul wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip past. “How long have you lived here?” They hadn’t started on the best grounds for conversation and information-passing, but it was worth a try.

  “Noel. I was born and raised in this village.” A glimmer of pride shone in his brown eyes.

  “Then you know everyone in the village?” Raoul asked. “My men and I are on the search for someone.”

  Noel looked wary. He was a smart lad for his young age. “Who is it you want to know of?”

  “A woman named Bioti and her daughters, Geva, Helga, and…” Raoul caught himself before Ellia’s real name slipped out. “Lia.” The two-syllable name felt strange on his tongue.

  Something flashed through Noel’s face, then it was as if a mask slid in place. “What do you wish to know of them?”

  “She has…she was living in this village, was she not? It is needful for me to find her, before she…harms someone I know.”

  Noel lifted his chin as he moved forward. “Why don’t you ask your man? He’s spoken with this Bioti you’re looking for.”

  “Galien? Today?” Raoul put a hand out to stop the lad as he thought back to the person Galien met in the middle of town. It hadn’t been Bioti. “What do you mean?” He could hear his voice harden as he asked the question.

  Noel looked up with a frown. “Whose side are you on? Bioti’s?”

  “Nay!” The word exploded from Raoul’s lips. How could even a stranger who knew Bioti wonder if he was on her side? Yet, if Galien had been seen with Bioti...

  “I…” Raoul looked at the lad’s doubtful eyes. Father, I need to know who I can trust. Placed in the wrong hands, news of the lord’s daug
hter being alive could be dangerous. He took a breath and peace calmed him. “I care about Lia. If I can find Bioti, Lia will be safe. I will personally see to it.”

  Noel’s eyes widened and his fingers released the buckets. “You can give your word?”

  Raoul’s heart rate quickened. Was Ellia in danger? What other information could Noel give of her whereabouts? Raoul had to stay with what Noel was willing to give, though. “Aye, I give my word.” He lowered his voice. Somehow, he knew Noel needed to know his identity. “I am Lord Kiralyn. Bioti has wronged me and I fear that her heart is bent on evil.”

  Noel raised his eyebrows as he surveyed Raoul’s clothes then dipped in respect.

  “Treat me no differently,” Raoul warned as he noticed Noel about to speak.

  Noel nodded, stopped to pick up his buckets, then motioned for Raoul to follow him to the well in the center of town. “If it will help Lia, I’ll see what I can do.”

  The lad’s voice was low, but he spoke quickly. “There is only one person I know who would know of Bioti’s whereabouts.”

  “Take me to him,” Raoul said.

  Noel shook his head as he filled his buckets with water from the well. “She is in the dungeon. No visitors allowed.” He looked up at Raoul and his brownish-blond locks fell over his forehead. He pushed them back, revealing his eyes, shining honest and trustworthy. “I bring their food. She is to hang…” His eyes clouded. “I will try my best to ask for information.” He retrieved his buckets and disappeared into the crowd.

  Abtshire

  A shaft of light pierced through the darkness, growing as the door was pushed open.

  “Breakfast for two.” The bearer’s voice was young, joyful, and…familiar.

  Lia shaded her eyes as the lad walked closer.

  “Here you are, madam. I managed to slip in a fresh apple.”

  “You naughty lad.” A smile belied Zuzene’s reprimand. She reached her hand out for the tray that was handed to her.

  “And for you, Lia.” The voice changed. More grim.

  Lia reached out her hands for the tray, blinking as the rays continued to blind her.