A startled gasp came from Rose. “Close your eyes, sweetling,” she told Jason, pressing his face into her hip.
Golan tried to stanch the blood, but it bubbled between his fingers. Face paling, he collapsed to the ground at Rand’s feet. “The bitch killed me,” he said in shocked disbelief. His eyes glazed over as his lifeblood drained from him. He stared blankly into space.
“Nay!” Rand shouted, jerking against the stout column. “I wanted to kill the conniving bastard.”
“Don’t move, Jason,” Rose said, squeezing his shoulder. “Stay right here.” Stepping forward, she dropped to her knees to check Golan’s pulse. “He’s dead,” she said, her voice and face stripped of all emotion.
The door slammed shut. Rand glanced up. Lydia was nowhere in sight.
“The door!” Rand shouted.
At the same time, Rose screamed, jumping up. He heard the iron key scrape as it turned inside the wooden tumbler. Rose grabbed the door latch and yanked on it. But Rand knew it was too late. As he suspected, the door didn’t budge.
His shoulders slumped.
“She’s locked us in,” Rose said, voice frantic, gazing at him over her shoulder. She spun back to the door. Banging on the wooden panel, Rose shouted, “Help! Someone, help us!”
“Untie me, Rose.” The scent of smoke grew stronger. It billowed below the door and puffed up in thickening gray clouds. “Hurry. The fire is spreading quickly. We have to find a way out of here.”
She rushed over next to him. Her foot slipped in a spreading pool of blood and she fell on her buttocks with a yelp of pain.
“What is it? Are you hurt?”
She crawled up onto her knees and reached up behind him. “Nay. I am fine. I just hurt my bottom.” Rose jerked the altar cloth off and covered Golan.
Then stretching around Rand, she tipped her head down and quickly worked to untie the knots of his bonds. Jason moved closer to his mother, clearly scared and seeking her comforting presence.
Her fingers brushed Rand’s wrists tantalizingly. Her mussed hair fell over her shoulder and kissed his cheek silkily. He closed his eyes and inhaled. The subtle scents of rose and lavender lingered in the coppery strands.
“What are we going to do? How do we get out of here?”
At Rose’s urgent prodding, he jerked his eyes open. He searched the four corners of the chamber looking for anything to help them escape. The chamber was the chapel vestry. A cupboard for storing the liturgical objects and vestments stood against the wall beneath the window. In addition, on either side of the cupboard were two freestanding posts that supported candles.
“I don’t know, but I am not going to give up without a fight.”
His hands finally slackened and he brought them around and rubbed the red welts ringing his wrists. He tucked his feet to his haunches and lunged to his feet. Having lain unmoving too long, a prickling sensation stabbed his lower limbs, and he stumbled.
Rose caught him. He clutched her shoulders and stared down at her. Soft blue eyes gazed at him; he fell into the shimmering pools, drawing ever deeper under her captivating spell. Jason nudged between them, tugging on Rand’s surcoate. “Papa, the smoke is getting thicker.”
Rand swallowed, clutched Jason’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, son,” he said, then dashed to the door. “I’m going to get you and your mother out of here.”
On the chance someone might hear them, he shouted at the top of his lungs and pounded heavily with his fists against the door. Rose joined him and added her voice to his, until it gave out and she began choking. Rand clutched her in his arms and rubbed her back while she coughed. When she finally subsided, he released a growl of frustration.
He spun around and looked around the room once more. His gaze shot back to the pair of wooden posts. They were about twelve inches thick and five feet tall. His heart soared. He veered to the left of the altar, grabbed a post, and lifted it. It was heavy and made of sturdy oak. “Tis perfect for what I have in mind.”
“What are you going to do with it?” She stared, gaze puzzled.
He hefted it up in his arms and maneuvered it clumsily before the altar. “Come, grab the front end. We’ll use it as a battering ram to break the lock bolt.”
Her head snapped up, eyes brightening with excitement. “Brilliant. It may just work.”
“Stand on the right side of the post so we can balance the weight of the beam.”
She nodded, ducked beneath the beam, then gave him her back and couched the post like a lance under her left arm.
Rand said gently, “Jason, move back behind the altar.”
He waited till the boy obeyed.
“All right, Rose. Together, we’ll bring the post back then forward three times to gain momentum and speed. I’ll count one, two, then three each time on the forward pass. Upon the final count of three, we’ll ram the post against the door with all our weight behind it. And keep going till the lock or door shatters. Understand?”
“Aye. I’m ready.”
“Good.” He swung the post backward, and then on the forward swing he counted out, “One.” Backward and forward, “Two.” Backward and forward, “Three!”
The beam slammed into the door. Wood crunched loudly in the tense silence. They swung again and again. Each time the door shivered forcefully. The wood began to splinter and crack.
“’Tis working!” Rose cried excitedly.
“Indeed, ’tis,” he concurred, a huge grin spreading across his face and his blood rushing in his veins.
On the eighth swing, the door smashed open with a shuddering crash. Smoke poured into the chamber and sinister shadows and light from the red glow of the fire coiled and writhed on the chamber walls. A flash of fear from his memory of the stable fire crept beneath his skin and set off prickling warnings. Cold sweat broke over his body.
Rose dropped her end of the post, whirled around, and flung her arms around him in a crushing hug. “Let’s get out of here,” she said in intense jubilation.
Embraced by her soft, supple arms, Rand determinedly tamped his fears into a coffer and slammed the lid shut. He lowered the post and hurried to Jason, who crouched behind the altar, with his hands covering his ears. Rand hoisted the boy into his arms. Jason trembled in fright, his chubby arms clinging like vines around Rand’s neck. Rose glanced up at them, her eyes tearing with…joy, wonder, mayhap?
He swallowed a lump of emotion and wrapped his free arm around Rose’s shoulder. As one, they surged through the chamber door and hastened down the chancel of the chapel adjoining the infirmary.
Rose clutched Rand’s hand tightly as he pulled her along. The heat and smoke was cloyingly thick. Panting breathily, her nostrils flared. The fire’s stench wafted into her nose and scratched the back of her throat. She coughed, expelling the thick fumes choking her.
As the smoke parted for a moment, Rose peeked through the infirmary’s arched entry. The blaze consumed half the beds and spread like rippling waves along the wood-beamed roofline. Rand turned left and raced to the hospital entrance. Two nuns, supporting a limping, moaning woman between them, passed Rose and Rand going the opposite direction, back toward the church. A monk, running hurriedly up behind the women, waved his arms wildly at Rose and Rand.
“Stop!” The brother’s cowl draped down the back of his shoulders and the fringes of his gray tonsured head stuck out on end.
They pulled up as the monk approached.
Panting with exertion, he continued, “’Tis no exit this way. The doors are jammed and impassable.”
“Where are the other exits? Have you tried them?”
“There is only one other exit; it leads to the cloister. But I’ve checked it too.” He shook his head and continued, voice despairing, “A fallen burning beam blocks it. We are trapped. Unless someone comes to our rescue, all we can do is pray.”
Rose shot her gaze to Rand’s. A palpable wave of despair seemed to draw them together. The debilitating emotion hovered for several beats of her heart, u
ntil suddenly, a light of determination flamed in the gold flecks of Rand’s colorful gaze. His confidence imbued her heart with courage. She rubbed Jason’s back to ease his fear and in return to gain comfort and strength from him. His breath came in labored pants.
Rand turned back to the monk. “Pray, brother? I intend to do more than pray. I shall continue looking for a way to escape till my dying breath.”
Rose blurted, “What of the windows? I noticed several windows in the infirmary.” Her breath wheezed.
The monk shook his head. “The infirmary is almost completely ablaze. I’d not advise you to enter. ’Tis too dangerous.” As if to emphasize the brother’s words, a beam crashed to the ground in the direction of the infirmary, sounding like a crack of thunder. “You see, ’tis not safe. I beg you come with me. Those of us who were unable to escape are seeking refuge in the sanctuary to pray for our souls.”
“Before long, nowhere shall be safe. I regret we must part here. But tell me, good brother, before you go, what of the windows in the infirmary? Are any reachable from the ground?”
“There are two windows in the west bay that are lower than the rest, but I am unsure how or if ’tis possible to access them.”
“If there is a way, I’ll find it.”
Jason began coughing violently. Rand patted his back, worry marking his brow. Rose smoothed Jason’s hair back from his forehead in a soothing gesture.
“Come, Rose. We must hurry.”
The monk said, “May God and His angels be with you.” He made the sign of the cross, blessing them, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” before he hurried away.
They followed on his heels, Rand leading the way again. As they approached the infirmary entrance, great billowing clouds of smoke discharged from the chamber, the flames flickering on the walls like ghastly images of what Rose imagined demons from Hell looked like.
Rand stopped suddenly. Caught unawares, Rose bumped into him. Above the din of the crackling fire, groaning timbers, and terrified moans of the remaining inhabitants, he shouted, “Take off your wimple and veil!”
Wondering what he intended, she nevertheless obeyed. As she removed the hairpins from her headdress, he set Jason down on the floor, pulled the cope he wore over his head, and shrugged out of it. When he stepped aside, she saw the stoup, a basin of holy water set upon a waist-high stone pedestal.
She handed him her wimple and veil and he dunked it, along with his cope, into the basin of holy water, ignoring the rose-shaped sprinkler attached to the basin by a chain.
“Put your arms up.” When she did, he pulled the robe over her head and she shimmied to help ease the clingy wet material down her body. A quick, soft smile graced his face, and then he handed her the veil he’d wrung out. “Use this to cover your mouth and nose so you can breathe easier. The wimple is for Ja—” His words cut off abruptly as he looked down.
Rose glanced down too. Jason was nowhere in sight. They spoke in unison. “Oh, God, where’s Jason?”
“Jesu. He’s gone.”
A pounding ache seized her chest. “We have to find him.”
“We’ll check the chapel first, then the infirmary.”
She plucked his sleeve to stop him. “’Twill be quicker if we search separately.”
He paused, frowning. “I don’t like the idea of us parting, but…The fire has not spread toward the chapel yet. While you go check in that direction, I’ll check the infirmary.”
“Mama!” Jason’s cry came from the direction of the infirmary.
They spun around as one and raced through the infirmary entrance. The monk was correct. Flames consumed the beds lined in rows down both side aisles. Several burning beams had fallen from the ceiling and were strewn about. The intense heat made it difficult to breathe.
Jason stood in the first bay and pointed at one of a handful of beds not on fire. “Mama. Look. Under the bed.”
Rose knelt down beside him and hugged him tightly. “Darling, thank the Virgin Mary you are all right,” she whispered fiercely. The tempo of her heart beat like a drum.
Rand squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. When Jason began to squirm, she pulled back and said sternly, “Don’t leave my side again. ’Tis very dangerous. You can get badly hurt. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, Mama. I promise not to leave you. But I heard the woman moaning.”
Rose turned and stared in shock. A woman huddled under the bed, raving as she yanked at her wiry gray hair. Her aged eyes stared unseeing through a milky film.
Rand coughed. Once he could speak, he said, “We’ll leave the woman where she is, for now, till we can find a way out of the building. We don’t need the distraction.”
Rose nodded and covered Jason’s mouth with the wet wimple. “Here, son. Hold the cloth to your mouth and breathe into it.”
She duplicated the gesture with the veil to her mouth. The cloying smoke lessened somewhat, and she could breathe easier.
As she stood up, Rand headed for the beds. Jason molded himself around the back of her hip, while his left hand tightly clutched her skirt behind her knees.
Near the second bed, a stained-glass window was situated about nine feet above the ground. It appeared to be about five feet high and four feet wide. Rose glanced at Rand, who yanked the bedclothes off the bed. She noticed he subtly angled his body away from the flames and averted his gaze.
“Do you think you can reach the window and climb out?” She heard the undercurrent of anxiety in her voice.
“I have an idea I think may work.” He ripped two strips from the linen bed sheet and then tossed her the remaining material. As he wrapped the linen around his palms, he explained, “Tear the sheet in long strips and knot them end to end to make a rope. Time is of the essence. This ceiling can collapse at any moment.”
Once she had about twelve strips, each one four inches wide by eight feet long, her fingers worked quickly knotting the ends together. “But how are you to get through the sealed window?” Nervously, she glanced at the approaching flames.
He raised his palms up, briefly. “I can tell you, but ’tis quicker if I show you,” he said as he marched to the nearby tall branched iron candle stand in front of the stone column.
Grunting, he hefted the candle stand over his right shoulder and carried it to the bedside, where he set it back down. Then she watched as he jumped onto the bed, and once he balanced his right foot on the bed frame, and his left foot on the bed ropes, with both hands he gripped the rod holding the bed curtain and yanked it down with a strong tug, chain and all. He removed the other bed curtain the same way, clearing the bed of all impediments. Then he hoisted the candelabra again and smashed it through the window like a spear. Shattered glass sprayed down over the window ledge and clinked on the stone floor as it rained down.
A great whooshing sound like a gust of wind startled Rose. She looked up to see the fire was spreading rapidly over the ceiling beams toward them. “Oh, God, we have to hurry, Rand!” she shouted. “What can I do to help?!”
He jabbed the candle stand through the window several more times till there was naught but a few slivers of glass clinging to the rectangular window frame. He set the candle stand down on the floor, then sprang off the bed. He shoved the iron stand over so it propped against the wall under the window. The top of the three branches reached just four feet shy of the broad stone window ledge.
As he removed the linen strips round his hands, he spoke quickly of his plans. He tied and double knotted the two linen bands onto the candle stand, spacing them four feet apart in the center of the twelve-foot-long pole. The thickness of the knotted fabric served as foot and hand supports as he climbed up the candle stand to the branched top, where he jumped the few remaining feet onto the stone ledge jutting out in front of the window.
In a crouched position, he grasped the window embrasure. Their eyes met, a long, lingering gaze of shared elation, and dare she hope, love. It seemed to blaze in his eyes like a beacon, gui
ding her home, encircling her in safety and comfort, warmth and protection. She marveled, unable to believe her fortune. But they were not free yet.
A great thundering rumble erupted above them. Rand’s eyes grew wide in horror. Rose gazed up at the ceiling, clutching Jason in a fierce grip, her fear so palpable she trembled. Then as if all the mythical Roman gods on Mount Olympus gave a shuddering roar, a section of the beamed ceiling broke apart and came tumbling down toward them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rand, hearing the shrieking crack of the timbered ceiling, a distinctive sound he had been unable to forget, even after fifteen years, leapt down off the ledge, grabbed Rose and Jason in his arms, flung them against the wall, then crouched over them protectively.
A great whoosh of air buffeted him as the beams crashed behind him, and crackling heat pulsed at his back. He clutched Rose and Jason, both shaking with fright. Residual echoes of fear, shame, and guilt over the stable fire were subsumed in his desperation to get Rose and Jason safely out of the burning building. Then…
A keening wail rent the air, sending a chill down his body. He turned his head around and gaped in horror. Through a wall of fire shooting into the air, he watched the old woman jump up from under the bed, flames engulfing her. She ran around madly in circles screeching in agonizing pain.
Rand froze, paralyzed, gripped in a nightmare where truth and reality shattered in a prism of images. He could not move or think or feel. Just envision his mother consumed by flames till she was nothing but charred remains. His cognizance warped in a black void of pain and fear. The blaze of the fire coming ever near him, like a burning phantasm wailing in misery and despair.
A whirring, buzzing sound rushed in his ears. “Rand. Rand.” A wraith reached out with long, bony fingers and sharp nails.
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