by Amanda Paris
She laughed, showing her small, white teeth, bared now in a snarl.
I moaned as if in pain. Sir Roger was an uncouth knight with decaying teeth and stale breath. She could not have chosen a more loathly husband for me.
I looked to Damien in my panic. With terrible, sudden clarity, I knew he’d been more right than I could have ever believed. We had had the means to get away; we should have taken the opportunity when we had it.
The hall became quiet, and I looked over to my father, who averted his eyes from me. How could he have betrayed me this way?
Lady Lamia had already begun her speech about the wedding preparations—which were to begin following the last day of the tournament tomorrow. So it was to be soon, I thought, nearly hysterical in my rage and frustration.
As if reading my thoughts, Lamia again grasped my arm, making sure I didn’t run. Surprised by her adamantine grip, I missed her first few words to me, which sounded only like a hiss. I wondered if she’d sprung directly from the serpent, the great tempter who’d caused our first parents to fall.
I felt faint, and the room began to swim in front of me. But Lamia’s grip on me kept me from falling in a dead faint.
Damien locked eyes with me. I knew with a dreadful certainty that he would defend me, even if it meant his death. He’d somehow foreseen this, knew what returning to the castle would mean. If only I’d just listened, I thought, too overcome to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.
Damien stood up suddenly, drawing attention away from Lamia and me. His chair clattered to the ground, the chess pieces scattering in a heap on the flagstones below.
“The Lady Emmeline has plighted her troth already. She has agreed to be my wife, and she is bound to the oath,” he announced, daring Lamia or my father to defy him.
Confusion reigned throughout the hall at his announcement, but then a rousing cheer went up, drowning Lamia’s furious scream. Her grip tightened on my arm, and she looked at me, asking in a contemptuous voice, “What have you done?”
Damien knew that Lamia likely had more in store for me. He made his way to the dais, his height towering over those extending congratulating hands, which eagerly clapped him on the back, slowing his progress.
Only my father’s voice stopped him.
“Silence!” he ordered everyone.
The hall instantly quieted, and I read bafflement on the faces below us.
My father stood slowly, eyeing Damien, who’d almost reached us.
“Stand back!” he ordered him.
I’d never heard my father, normally so gentle, regard Damien with such coldness or speak so fiercely.
“Who are you to marry my daughter without my permission? You, a guttersnipe I found on the streets, cowering beneath the skirts of a wise woman selling herbs—you think to marry my daughter?” he spat out.
Damien’s face never wavered, his eyes locking steadfastly on my father’s face, the face he’d seen a thousand times look at him kindly, treating him as a beloved son.
Shock and silence greeted my father’s speech, and Lamia’s grip lessened somewhat on my arm, the smile twisting her features into a cruel and leering grin. Never had my father spoken a hard word even to the least of his servants. Never had he raised his voice or hand to any of them. I knew, without a doubt, that she had bewitched him.
“Father,” I began, tears in my eyes.
“Quiet, Emmeline, I’ll deal with you later,” he said unfeelingly. He turned his cold eyes briefly on me, and a strange glow seemed to have taken hold of him. I knew that the man I saw before me was not my father.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked helplessly to Damien. Lamia jerked her head towards me, looking into my eyes with hatred.
“I’ll see you locked in the North Tower until you’re more amenable, stepdaughter,” she spat out, nodding to a group of armed knights that seemed to appear from nowhere. They headed in Damien’s direction.
Chaos broke out, as chairs were overturned and voices were raised.
The knights muscled their way to Damien, knocking over anyone in their path. Once they reached him, they tried to take him by the arms to bind him, but he was too strong. It finally took all of them to overpower him, forcing him first to his knees before they dragged him through the melee below me. I could only watch in horror, as Lamia had me in a death grip.
She turned her vicious gaze to me once she saw that Damien had been subdued. Strengthening her hold, she began to half-drag me behind her out of the hall.
“Damien!” I screamed, unable to break through.
I looked helplessly at him across the hall. We were being pulled in opposite directions.
I will find you, I thought he mouthed to me.
There wasn’t much space between the dais and the inner door leading to the North Tower, which we quickly reached. Lamia nearly broke it down in her fury. She seemed to have superhuman strength, confirming my fears of her dark powers. She half-carried me up the winding stairs, barely wide enough to fit both of us.
Upon reaching the uppermost chamber, she threw me inside, slapping me for good measure and slamming the door behind her.
I reeled from the blow, which left me insensible for a time.
I must have lost consciousness, for I awoke much later in the dark, alone, hungry, frightened, and cold. I shivered, wondering what she had in store for me. Trying the door, I banged loudly, hoping someone would take pity on me. No one did.
I waited, but she never came back. The hours dragged on, and the cold began to creep into my bones. I knelt on the unyielding stone floor, clutching the rosary I kept in the inner folds of my gown as I prayed for deliverance.
If He could just help me to see my way out…please, I repeated over and over again, too traumatized even to speak coherently. All the prayers I’d repeated since my girlhood fled in my terror, as I imagined all kinds of terrible fates she had in store for Damien.
Slowly, my sobbing subsided, and silence filled the night. I waited for dawn to break, and when it did, the key turned in the lock.
“Emmeline,” I heard someone whisper. Millicent! And she had brought food with her.
Relief washed over me, and I sent a prayer of thanksgiving above, falling into her large, comforting arms.
But she wasn’t alone.
“Damien!” I exclaimed, all but screaming his name in the joy of seeing him behind her.
“Shhh! We’ve got to be quick,” he whispered, reaching his hand out for me and warming it between his large hands.
“B-but how d-did you…” I began, faltering. I could barely get my question out, so much did I shiver.
He put his hand on my lips.
“Later,” he whispered, taking my hand into his to lead me out. I quickly stuffed the bread in my mouth, quaffing the wine Millicent had brought almost in one gulp. There was no time for explanations now.
I hugged Millicent, urging her to hurry to my chamber for fear that Lamia would become suspicious if she wasn’t in the women’s quarters of the castle.
I could see tears in her eyes. We both knew that this was the last time we’d see each other.
“Emmeline, we must go now!” Damien urged, pressing me to leave. I could see that Millicent struggled not to cry, but I was adamant that she leave quickly, hoping no one would discover her in the wrong part of the castle. It wouldn’t take much effort to know why she was in the North Tower.
We crept down the narrow winding stairs of the tower. I knew that we had little time before Lamia discovered my escape. She likely wouldn’t let me rot there, I thought. She was too diabolical; I knew she had something worse planned than just to leave me alone to my fate.
Like me, Damien had grown up in the castle and knew every part of it, including a secret passage built in the dungeon, which led out through the woods not too far from where we’d met the night before.
We reached the door leading to the hall. I cringed at the thought of opening it.
“I’ll go first,” Millicent
offered, fearlessly opening the door and creeping out into the darkness. I knew she’d have to make her way in the shadows of the hall in an opposite direction from us to get to our chamber. I prayed for her safe passage.
We waited five minutes, not hearing anything so much as the swish of her skirts. I hoped it was a good sign that no one had seen Millicent.
“It’s dawn, so they’ll all be in the field preparing for the tournament,” Damien whispered in my ear. Breakfast would come later in the hall, so we had a small window of time to escape.
“I’ve already led the horses out; they’re tethered by the chapel. Father Philip has agreed to help us. He’s gathered food from the kitchens since I would have looked too suspicious, and he’s going to marry us, Emmeline,” Damien finished triumphantly. The excitement was evident in his voice, despite the danger.
“But how did you get away from her? How did you get the horses without raising an alarm?” I asked.
“Let’s just say that Millicent isn’t the only person on our side,” he said, patting the keys in his pocket. Peter, I thought, remembering Damien’s faithful squire. He must have waited for the right time when no one was watching, found Millicent, who had somehow gotten the keys that Lamia kept around her waist at all times, and then let Damien out.
I wondered how Millicent did it but then remembered that she’d been forced to launder Lamia’s clothes as well as mine.Lamia wore the keys on a girdle, and Millicent must have waited for her to undress before retiring. I didn’t think Lamia wore the keys to bed, keeping them instead by a small table in a shared chamber with my father. I imagined that Millicent must have crept into the chamber last night while they slept, ostensibly to collect Lamia’s clothes, something she would naturally do without suspicion. Millicent must have seen the keys and stolen them, meeting up with Peter to free us. They must have let Damien out and then come for me. I prayed that Lamia wouldn’t suspect her when she couldn’t find her keys.
But that only explained the key to the North Tower and probably the chambers off from the stables where they’d likely taken Damien. I thought it unlikely they’d used the dungeon; no one ventured there, and I’d only discovered it accidently as a small child. I had no idea where that key would be. Peter must have good eyes and ears, I thought, if he’d discovered and stolen it for Damien.
Peter hated Lamia almost as much as I did. She constantly belittled him in front of others, for Peter walked with a slight limp, having once fallen from a horse as a small boy. Damien had deliberately chosen him as his squire to save him from the brunt of others’ ridicule and to keep him out of Lamia’s presence as much as possible. I hoped we could take him with us wherever we were going. But I considered that Damien would have already thought of that.
I silently prayed that Lamia didn’t know the secret passage. There was only one way in and out, and if she caught us, we’d be trapped.
Damien started taking off his shoes and directing me to do the same. It was a comfort to see that he had his sword with him. Peter had thought of everything we might need.
“I’ll go first and see if anyone is there,” he whispered.
Millicent had left the door cracked for us when she slipped out, and Damien slowly opened just enough for us to get by while I hid in the shadows behind him. He described the scene before him without turning his head.
“Two old women clearing the trenchers from last night. I don’t think they’ll notice us if we move quickly,” he whispered.
He grabbed my hand, and we ran for it, expecting every moment for an alarm to be raised at our escape.
We passed behind the dais, racing for a low arch directly opposite to us that provided the cover of darkness. We were halfway there when I heard my stepmother.
“And change these rushes! If I feel another flea, it will be your hides that I come after!” she yelled to the poor women responsible for clearing the leftovers of last night’s banquet.
Neither woman commented, nodding and bowing their heads. Everyone knew that Lamia was dangerous when she was on the warpath.
She must have discovered the missing keys by now, I thought, but then saw them dangling from her girdle. I remembered then that there was a second set kept in the castle chapel in case of danger or attack. Only I, my father, and Father Philip would know where they were. Millicent wouldn’t have known about this set, and I thought Peter wouldn’t either. It had to be Father Philip. He must have given the keys to Peter, who gave them to Damien. Perhaps Millicent hadn’t had to steal them from Lamia after all. I was relieved, knowing that Lamia could wreak a terrible vengeance when someone thwarted her desires.
I could feel her eyes on us in the dark. We’d crept to an alcove in her direct line of sight, but the shadows hid us well. Damien squeezed my hand, and when Lamia turned her back to chastise the servants again, we dashed for the open door leading down into the lowest region of the castle: the dungeon.
Once we were inside, we both paused for a second to catch our breath.
Giving me a quick kiss, Damien reached for my hand.
“Let’s go,” he said, not wanting to pause even for a moment. We both knew that time was critical.
We took the second door down on the right, but not before lifting one of the torches from the wall to light our way down to the steps below. No one ever came close to this part of the castle if they could help it, turning instead in the other direction, which led to the kitchens. This was to our advantage. Only a few people actually knew about the secret passage—my father, myself, and Damien. I’d told him once when we played hide and seek together as children and sworn him to secrecy. I hoped that my father had not mentioned it to Lamia, though I held out little hope that they kept secrets from each other. Our best chance was that he’d forgotten all about it.
We crept down the stairs, which became narrower as we descended. Finally reaching the bottom, we encountered the iron gate, now rusted over from disuse; it led directly to the inner chambers of the dungeon that contained the secret passage, built originally as an escape route in case anyone laid siege to the castle, only a remote possibility now. I looked up, nearly screaming as four fearsome gargoyles greeted us, their tongues of flame darting out. I buried my face in Damien’s shoulder, unwilling to look them in the face again. It seemed that Lamia did know this place, or someone did. I was glad to see, at least, that no one had been down here lately. Damien rustled around his pocket, found the set of keys someone had stolen for us, and tried a few, without success. We were down to the last key, and I said a few prayers, keeping my eyes closed against the evil carvings, a reminder of the danger we faced.
It worked. We entered the dungeon a few moments later. I passed several cells that must have once held some unfortunate miscreants. I shuddered, feeling empathy for the poor souls who’d departed this life from here. It was a dark place that reeked of human misery.
We stopped at the fourth cell and looked for the stones that would give way to the secret passage. We pushed for awhile. After several unsuccessful tries, we looked hopelessly at each other.
I paused, counting. It was five stones from the bottom, I was sure. Perhaps they were stuck?
Both Damien and I pushed together, and one of them budged, but just barely.
We looked at each other, a little panicked. This was going to take forever, and Lamia could be on her way to the tower at any moment. We needed to find a way to move the stones now.
Damien searched the cell and found what looked like a hammer lying beneath some old, tattered cloth. Who knew what method of torture it had been used for? Or, for that matter, whose cloth it was. I shuddered when I saw the deep stains on both, but I knew it was our only chance.
Damien took off his sword, handed me the torch, and took the first swing. We both jumped, startled at the sound of the metal hitting the stones.
“Stand back,” he ordered.
I took two steps back, and he began hammering in earnest. I kept a lookout for anyone who might have heard the racket, but
no one came. When I looked back, Damien had created a small opening, just enough for us to crawl through to the other side, where I hoped we could stand up. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to crawl the entire way on my hands and knees.
Before going through, Damien tried taking the hammer with him along with his sword, making it awkward for him to maneuver at first in the small aperture in the wall.
“We may need them both,” he said with a grimace as I handed both through the space he’d created for us.
Once we were on the other side, which thankfully gave us more room, we began lifting the heavy stones and putting them back in place, hoping they wouldn’t appear amiss to anyone coming down there to search for us.
“There, last one,” Damien said. His words echoed in the tunnel that formed the secret passage.
We began the mile-long trek through the dark. I tried not to think about what I was stepping on; I was convinced I felt rats underneath my feet.
Damien took my hand in his, still holding the torch ahead of us.
“Don’t look. Just close your eyes; I’ll lead you,” he said, threading his fingers through mine. I was glad not be alone.
I decided to take his advice and not look down. In any case, it was dark, the flame not giving off much light, so I wouldn’t have seen anything except shadows cast by the torch light. We walked on in silence for awhile, and I tried to remember that I would be a married woman soon and far away from danger. As happy as that thought made me, I knew I’d never see my father again, never hear his voice or feel his arms about me. Lamia had done this, had taken him away from me forever, and he was as dead to me as my mother was.
Damien seemed to read my mood and the direction of my thoughts.
“Don’t think about it, Emmeline. Just remember how much I love you,” he said, the words “love you” echoing around us.
“I love you too,” I replied, merging my words with his and smiling at him. I’d forgotten for a moment that he couldn’t see me. He seemed to sense it because he turned around to kiss me, despite our seemingly dire circumstances.