The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

Hazel asked, “What do you mean by chute.”

  Fergus peered in, then backed away and said, “Absolutely not, there’s a perfectly good staircase right here.”

  Elisedd replied, “The entrance is sealed at the bottom, this is the only way down.”

  “You’re sure it’s safe?” asked Hazel.

  “Yes, just hold onto this rope and go slow and steady.” He tugged on the rope which was knotted around the pulleys and it did not budge. “It’s secure.”

  Fergus sighed, took one of the wooden trays, and climbed in.

  Hazel went in after him and held onto the rope as she eased her way off the flat portion of the chute and down onto a steep decline. She pressed down on the heels of her boots in front of her as she slid behind Fergus and Elisedd.

  After a few minutes of easing their way down the chute, Elisedd said, “It get’s really steep right here. Hold on tight... take it easy.”

  A few seconds later, Hazel felt the rope slacken a few inches. She planted her feet as best she could and stopped as did Fergus and Elisedd in front of her.

  “What was that?” said Fergus, anxiously.

  The sound of creaking metal traveled through the chute.

  Elisedd tugged on the rope, and it held. “Keep going.”

  Hazel eased the pressure off her feet slightly and just as the tray beneath her began to slide, she felt the rope slacken again and there was a loud crash of metal which echoed through the chute.

  “Bollocks!” yelled Fergus, bracing himself in the chute with his arms and legs. “Rope came loose!”

  Hazel realized that the crashing sounds were continuing, not echoing. “I don’t think it was the rope that came loose!”

  “Hurry!” said Elisedd.

  Hazel slid down faster now, doing her best to control her speed with all four limbs. The crashing noises grew louder and more violent. She looked up behind her. She could see sparks. “Go! Go!” she screamed as she let herself slide down the chute. She picked up speed fast and crashed into Fergus, knocking him loose of his limbs.

  “What are you doing!” screamed Fergus.

  “It’s right behind us!” she screamed back as the pair of them collided with Elisedd.

  They were still accelerating, and the metal pulley that was tumbling toward them was catching up at full speed. Cold air rushed past her face.

  In front of her, Elisedd’s torch was extinguished, but there was a small light at the end of the chute that was growing in size quickly.

  “We need to slow down!” screamed Fergus.

  Hazel looked behind her and saw the pulley not more than ten feet back. “Not yet! It’s too close behind!”

  Fergus was screaming nonsense. Somewhere in his cries Hazel heard him plead, “Lord, forgive me for my sins!”

  With no more than twenty feet in front of them, Elisedd changed and slammed his hooves into the stone, slowing them down with a screech. Hazel and Fergus did there best to help their train brake but they were still moving fast as they were sent tumbling out of the chute onto the dirt and grass.

  As she rolled over the ground, she saw the metal pulley spinning over top of her. She did her best to stop herself on the ground and found herself kneeling in a crouch. She examined herself and was surprised to find that no part of her was in pain.

  She looked ahead of her and saw Elisedd and Fergus sprawled out, covered in dirt and groaning. The metal pulley and its sharp brace were planted firmly in the dirt. She went to Fergus and helped him up. He was scraped up, but he looked to be okay otherwise. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “What do you think?” he groaned as he stretched his back.

  “Seriously Fergus! Are you injured?” said Hazel.

  “No, I’m alright,” said Fergus more earnestly. “I thought this was supposed to be a lovely stroll to market.”

  Elisedd walked over to them; his feet were bare. “Sorry ’bout that. I didn’t think to check the pulley.” He found his shoes and laced them up.

  They cleaned themselves off as best they could and hid the pulley and rope back in the chute.

  “You reckon Alviva heard us?” asked Fergus

  Elisedd replied, “The stone is thick and the falls are loud. We’ll be fine. C’mon, my father’s waiting for us.”

  They hiked through the woods and arrived at a dirt trail where they met up with Fíodor.

  “What happened to you lot? You look like you were excavating in there,” said Fíodor.

  “Haven’t we gone far enough yet?” muttered Fergus in the back of the covered wagon. “I’d like to at least take in the views if we’re traveling all this way.”

  Fíodor had taken the precaution of keeping Hazel and Fergus in the back of the wagon until they were well off the estate. Hazel was happy to oblige after what had happened with Cameron. She was not at all fond of the idea of two guards tailing her at all times.

  Elisedd hopped into the back of the wagon and said, “We should be well clear of any lookouts. You can ride up front if you’d like.”

  Hazel and Fergus took him up on the offer for the rest of the trip, enjoying the scenery through Derbyshire. The ride took several hours, and they arrived in Derby proper by midday.

  “We’ll stop at the silk mill first,” said Fíodor.

  They pulled up in front of a large, rectangular, red brick building with a tall tower on one corner of it. It was built alongside the wide Derwent River that ran through Derby.

  “Is this Lombe’s Mill?” asked Fergus excitedly.

  “It is indeed,” said Fíodor as he and Elisedd each unloaded a crate. “You can come in and take a look if you’d like.”

  Hazel recognized the name, it was one of the first mechanized and powered mills along the Derwent River.

  “You need a hand?” Hazel asked them, nudging Fergus for his failure to recognize their labor.

  “No, it’s just the two, and they’re lighter than they look.”

  They entered the mill to the sounds of heavy machines churning, which grew louder as they entered a large room, open to the ceiling of the building three stories above. Dozens of workers were stationed throughout the room attending to equipment and just as many children were scurrying about, carrying buckets of materials between the machines and workers.

  Fergus was staring around the room in awe. “Incredible. It’s all powered by water, you know. He pointed to a line shaft that ran along the length of the room. “That’s driven by an axle that goes through a water wheel outside.” Fergus shook his head in astonishment. “This is the future, you know, places like this will change the world.”

  Hazel could not deny that it was an impressive feat of engineering, but all the machinery and the noise and heat was off putting for her.

  “Ah, Mr. Johnson,” said an older man in a three piece suit as he approached Fíodor. They shook hands. “Only two crates today? No matter, it’s the finest silk I can get and collected right here in England. The Italians would be envious.”

  Fíodor bent down to pick the crate back up.

  “You can leave them here,” the man said before looking over toward a young boy and shouting, “William!” over the loud machinery.

  The boy was under a tall, elaborate, spinning machine that was the centerpiece of the room. He was crawling beneath it, picking up scraps of silk.

  Hazel was nervous just watching him moving so close under the whirring machine. It looked like it could take his head off with the slightest misstep. The boy did not to seem to hear the man’s call and continued with his work. The man pulled out a whistle and blew it hard. Hazel startled at the sharp noise as did Fergus beside her.

  All the workers and children in the room stopped what they were doing and looked over toward him. The man pointed at the boy and beckoned him. Everyone else carried on with their work while the boy dashed over.

  Despite the boy’s diligence, he looked exhausted. He was gaunt and pale, the only color on him was the dirt that dusted his skin. His eyes were only half opened.


  Hazel thought he might topple over at any second as he struggled to maintain his balance while he stood there.

  “Take these silk balls and unload them,” the man ordered.

  “Yessir,” the boy replied with a wavering voice before he began dragging the crate away. He was putting his whole body into pulling it along, inching his way across the floor.

  Elisedd said, “It’s no trouble for us to carry it over.”

  The man replied, “No. The boy is being paid. Let him earn it.”

  Hazel scoffed and took a step toward the struggling boy.

  The man put a firm hand on her shoulder, “I insist, miss...”

  She stepped back reluctantly.

  After the man paid Fíodor with coin and a bag of finished silk, the three of them exited the building much to their collective relief.

  Hazel said angrily, “If that’s the future, I want nothing to do with it!”

  Fergus, whose enthusiasm upon entering the building had been subdued, said, “Afraid there’s not much choice, Hazel.”

  “He’s right,” said Fíodor. “This silk mill is the first of it’s kind. Some would say it’s already dated, a novelty even... there are new mills being built all along the Derwent.” Fíodor sighed and continued, “Our trade has changed in recent years, especially for weavers. We used to earn a lot from spinning wool and silk. We had an edge once, but with these machines, we can’t produce enough for it to be profitable.”

  Fergus said, “Sounds familiar. My mum used to spin wool when it was worth the time, gave it up though. She’s making finished clothes now though.”

  “It’s the same in the village. Most us weavers have had to give up our trades, learn something more useful. I’m fortunate to offer a product within the village that ought not be replicated by machines any time soon. Reckon I’d be the second richest bloke in Talamh if I could sell it out here.” Fíodor continued, “You two can go with Elisedd to pick up some odds and ends while I visit the clothiers. We’ll meet up back here.” He handed Elisedd a list and a coin purse.

  Elisedd unharnessed a pair of the horses with empty saddlebags and the three of them visited a variety of shops where they purchased goods ranging from pots to perfumes.

  Hazel had forgotten how ridiculously the typical young Englishwoman behaved. Scores of them were perusing the shops they visited, each of them practically indistinguishable from the next. They wore bloated skirts that seemed to flare out even further than she remembered; the younger ones had their fans out despite it being a crisp autumn day.

  Every time Elisedd passed them, they would conspicuously switch them to their left hands and make sure to open them.

  Hazel smiled at his complete ignorance to their signals, much to the disdain of his admirers.

  When they had obtained all the items on the list, they went back toward the silk mill and waited at a nearby coffee house that looked out upon the Derwent and the mill.

  Hazel sat at a table with Fergus while Elisedd went to order drinks.

  Shortly after, a server returned with a tray of three mugs.

  “Took the liberty of ordering for you two,” said Elisedd with a smile.

  “Oh, thank you, but I don’t much like coffee. You should’ve told him, Fergus.”

  Elisedd said, “Neither do I. It’s actually chocolate, have you ever tried it? It’s delicious, had it for the first time when I was here last. Couldn’t resist another taste.”

  Hazel looked down at the dark brown drink in front of her and remembered the bag of cocoa beans that John had given her for her birthday. She wondered where he was now. She had not thought about him in the whirlwind of the last several weeks, but the memories returned quickly. The respectful restraint he had always shown, despite his longing gazes, except for that day he told her goodbye. She remembered the touch of his hands on hers and the sadness in his voice. She felt a pang of regret for how easily she had dismissed him.

  Then she felt a hand on hers and looked up.

  “Hazel?” asked Elisedd.

  Fergus said, “Ohh, I understand. I reckon that lad is an ocean away by now.”

  Hazel did not reply.

  Fergus said, “Oh no... I’ve done it again, haven’t I?

  “No.” Hazel feigned a smile. “No, I’m fine.”

  “What lad is this?” asked Elisedd.

  Fergus answered enthusiastically, “His name’s John, an officer of the royal army. Strong silent type, quite charming really.” He was clearly attempting to provoke Elisedd.

  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Elisedd asked Hazel, engrossed by her suitor.

  Hazel let out a genuine smile.

  “Aye, he is,” he said playfully.

  Fergus looked back and forth between them, utterly confused.

  Their conversation was interrupted when a young man stumbled by their table. He was dressed in scarlet livery. A post boy, Hazel realized. She could smell the alcohol on him as he passed by.

  A man yelled, “Oi, lad! This isn’t the pub, get out!”

  The boy looked around, slowly registering that he was indeed in the wrong establishment, then stumbled back out.

  Hazel remembered the last post boy she had seen, and the fate that had come to him. That day felt so distant as did Leicester and the Lewin farm. There was little she missed of Leicester’s proper, that much was apparent to her after the day in Derby, but she did miss the farm, and family dinners with the Lewins and Taylors. She never thought herself capable, but she even missed some of her chores.

  She was suddenly reminded of the letter she had written for the Lewins and stood up quickly to follow the post boy out, hoping he would be able to direct her to the nearest posting inn.

  “Where you going?” asked Fergus.

  She pulled out the letter and held it up as she went out the door.

  She was relieved to see that the post boy had not made it far. She caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned slowly, then scanned her up and down. “Well hello, miss, how may I help you?” he asked in a slur, leaning closer to her until he began to lose his balance.

  Hazel held out a stiff arm to his chest and held up the letter. “Do you know where I can drop this off?”

  “Oh,” he said as he took a step back. “I’m headed to the inn now. I can take it if you’d like.”

  Hazel looked at him reluctantly.

  “What? I won’t lose it... it’s my job,” he said incredulously.

  Hazel figured it was going to be in a post boy’s hands whether she dropped it off herself or not. She handed him the letter. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and continued on.

  Hazel turned back toward the coffee house and spotted Fíodor on his wagon down the road. She was surprised to see the wagon surrounded by four men on horseback.

  As they drew closer, Hazel recognized Aatu and Ulric flanking Fíodor, who looked worried. Aatu’s wolves walked near his horse. Behind the wagon, Bjorn and Cuyler followed.

  Aatu dismounted his horse and walked up to Hazel. “Where are the others?” he grumbled.

  Hazel looked toward the coffeehouse.

  Aatu signaled to Ulric, who went in and retrieved Fergus and Elisedd. The pair of them looked around anxiously as they were pushed forward by Ulric.

  Aatu asked Hazel, “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to join Fíodor and Elisedd on their supply run.”

  “Who have you spoken to?”

  “What?”

  “Who have you seen since you’ve been here? Did you meet with anyone?”

  “We went to the mill and spoke with the manager, some shopkeepers as well... what’s it to you?”

  “Get in the wagon, we’re leaving.”

  Hazel did as she was told.

  She sat with Fergus and Elisedd in the back of the wagon as they were escorted out of Derby into the countryside.

  A short while later, the wagon stopped. Ulric entered the back of the wagon with a rope in his hand.
He dragged Elisedd out by his hair, throwing him to the ground where he set to tying his hands behind his back.

  Hazel jumped out screaming, “Stop!” She went to pull Ulric off of Elisedd. He shoved her back with a clawed hand and a flash of ferocity in his changed eyes.

  She fell backward onto the road.

  Bjorn came around the wagon, and yelled, “Easy, Ulric!” He helped Hazel up. “Put him in the wagon and leave him be.” He guided Hazel back into the wagon.

  Ulric shoved Elisedd back into the wagon and climbed in. He sat next to Elisedd and drew his saber slowly, making sure it was seen, then rested it on his lap. He stared at Hazel.

  Hazel looked away, gritting her teeth. She wanted so badly to wipe that cold, arrogant glare off his face. Cru’bail was certainly up for the task, but that was exactly what he wanted. She breathed deeply, trying her best to stay calm.

  Then she heard the sound of a kick and a loud groan outside of the wagon.

  She heard Bjorn’s voice. “Aatu...”

  Aatu said, “Quiet. Why did you bring her here?”

  “For her leisure,” Fíodor said calmly.

  There was another blow, followed by coughing.

  “Where is he!” Aatu shouted.

  “Who?” Fíodor said calmly.

  Another blow. “You know who.”

  Hazel looked at Elisedd; he was shaking with anger. He began to stand up.

  Ulric snapped his saber to Elisedd’s neck, convincing him to sit back down.

  Then, Hazel could hear Aatu’s dogs growling. Aatu said, “He’s here. Bjorn, get them to the village now. Cuyler, Ulric! With me!”

  29

  HAZEL

  The heavy gate to Talamh shut close behind Hazel as she climbed off the wagon. In front of her, Ayalon and Faron approached.

  Ulric kicked the back of Elisedd’s knees, bringing him to a kneel on the ground. Aatu did the same with Fíodor, then said, “Einar got away, but we know he was there.” He held out a pair of darts, then threw them to the ground. “Fíodor took them straight to him.”

  Ayalon looked to the solitary puncture wounds on Aatu and Ulric’s necks. “It worked then...”

  Aatu nodded.

  Hazel realized that Aatu and Ulric must have been hit by Einar’s darts, yet here they were, still alive and awake.